The House Guests

by Emilie Richards

  Savannah was surprised at Gen’s tone. She’d known that Gen and her parents weren’t close, but she hadn’t realized the depth of feeling.

  “Are they unhappy about the change?”

  “I see them so rarely it’s hard to tell. Growing up as their daughter was tough. I lived exactly the way the children in the orphanage they’d built from the ground up lived. They didn’t want me to feel privileged when so many others weren’t. So I slept in dormitories with other girls, learned what they learned, ate what they ate and sat through religious services every night, where my father made sure we understood we were all sinners.”

  Savannah tried to imagine. “Your whole childhood?”

  Gen took her time explaining, pausing from time to time as if she needed to figure out how to convey her history. “Luckily, later they sent me to a boarding school for the children of missionaries. More dorms. More lectures, but a better education and a real understanding of love and compassion. Anyway, the education was good enough that between the funds our church raised and scholarships, I was able to attend college in the U.S. But childhood marked me. First and always, Africa will always feel like home to me. Second, I vowed that someday I would go back and do real good for children there without breaking their spirits. Third, I vowed I would spend the rest of my life making my own decisions and enjoying peace and quiet and as much time alone as I wanted.”

  Their food arrived and it took a few minutes to settle it, order the drinks they’d forgotten and get extra napkins.

  Savannah tried the nachos, which were absolutely delicious, before she spoke. “That explains why you became a doctor, and why you spend so much time in Africa.”

  This time Gen’s smile lost its twinkle. “I’m afraid it also explains why, when you were born, you went to live with your dad.”

  “Why did you get married in the first place if you needed to be alone?”

  “Your dad and I met when we were residents in the same hospital. I’d like to say we fell in love. Every child deserves parents who love each other, but we didn’t. We were friends, then briefly we were lovers, and then, after we said goodbye and wished each other well, I discovered I was pregnant. I might not be religious in the standard sense of the word, but I did know I wanted to have the baby. And when I told your father, we decided it would be better for all of us if he and I married, even for a short time. Today we probably wouldn’t have. But all those years ago, a child born out of wedlock would have been a bigger deal.”

  “Did you know you were going to divorce? Even when you got married?”

  “No. We gave the marriage a try, Vanna. We really did. But after you were born, I suffered from postpartum depression that was so serious, I went into a hospital for a few weeks. And when I got out, it was clear to both your father and me that taking care of a baby was going to put me right back in. Please don’t think I didn’t love you. I did. Right from the first minute I saw you, I loved you. I just didn’t know what to do with you. In the end it was clear I was the wrong person to raise you. I’d never had a mother. I didn’t know how to be a mother.”

  “You didn’t want to be a mother.” Savannah could feel her eyes filling with tears.

  “Maybe not, but I would have given anything to be a good one. I just didn’t seem to have it in me.”

  “So you turned me over to my dad.” Savannah wiped her cheeks.

  “Not as bloodlessly as that sounds. We found a wonderful nanny. Your dad and I took care of you together in the evenings, but when he got the offer to join the practice in Manhattan and I got one here in California, we both knew where you belonged and with whom. Everything that was so hard for me was simple for your dad. He loved everything about being a father.”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “I really envied him that. Anyway, we worked out the custody arrangement. I cheered you on from the sidelines. I believed that once you were older, and especially once you were an adult, I might have something to offer you. I still hope that’s true.”

  Savannah thought that at this moment, Gen should be comforting her. That’s what mothers did. Instead, she covered Gen’s hand with her own. “I think I knew most of this, without the details. But thanks for the context.”

  Gen looked up, and her eyes were sparkling with tears. “Context is a pretty sophisticated word coming from a teenager. But yeah, that story is really the context for your life.”

  “I’m glad you had me, even if it wasn’t what you planned. And I’m glad you knew my dad should raise me.”

  “He did a superior job. He and Cassie.” She tilted her head, and then she threaded her fingers through Savannah’s. “I wasn’t jealous Cassie had you every day, that she dried your tears and went to your recitals and bought your Halloween costumes. But I was jealous I couldn’t be Cassie. That none of my abilities and talents lent themselves to doing those things. You were lucky to have her. You know that, right?”

  Savannah shrugged.

  Gen’s grip tightened. “And you know your father wasn’t perfect, don’t you? That Cassie sometimes had a lot to contend with? But as much as she loved Mark, and she really did, she would never have said or done anything that would endanger his life.”

  Savannah pulled her hand from Gen’s. “Are you trying to convince me to go back?” She could hear her tone growing sharper, but she was powerless to change it. “Am I still that much of a problem for you, even at fifteen?”

  Gen took her time answering. “I have never for one moment of your life thought of you as a problem. You are the daughter I love, the person I love most in the world. But I want things to be right for you. You can live with me as long as you want to. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. But honestly? I don’t see it happening.”

  “It might if you fire Pauline.”

  Gen managed a smile. “Pauline may be a problem, but the big one? It’s Savannah. Because Savannah needs her real mother, and that person is not me. If nothing else, Savannah needs to make peace with her mother, because she loves her, and this is tearing them both apart. Do that, and then decide where you really want to spend the rest of your school years. I’ll support any decision made out of love, but not one from misplaced anger. Because I think that as you’ve grieved, you’ve wanted to blame somebody for your dad’s death, so you chose the person who was safest.”

  “I don’t see it that way.”

  “At least think about what I’ve said?”

  Savannah shrugged.

  Gen appeared to think that was good enough. “Whether you stay in California or not, I’m going to find us a better place to live when you’re with me. A house or condo with a real bedroom for you, one with families nearby. I’ll give up summers in Africa unless you’d like to go. But I can find a larger place and still take you to Africa, whether I’m your main address or not. Either way it’s time for us to be together more. But without Cassie in your life?” She shook her head.

  “I can really stay? It’s my choice?”

  “Nobody else’s.”

  Savannah frowned. “Giving people choices isn’t what you do best.”

  “I can learn. I will have to, one way or the other.”

  “I don’t know what I could say to Cassie if I called her.”

  “You’ll think of something.”

  “What are you hoping for?”

  Gen considered. “Here’s the honest to God truth. I’m hoping you do whatever will make you the happiest.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “You have time to decide. In the meantime I’ll ask Pauline to leave every day after lunch. She’ll be happier, you’ll be happier, and we’ll eat dinner every night at any restaurant you want. I might even try cooking. Deal?”

  She raised her hand and Savannah slapped it, palms together. “Deal.”

  “I really do love you. I’ll always be here for you, Vanna, no matter w
hat.”

  “Can I ask a favor? Please don’t call me Vanna. Whenever you call me Vanna, I think of Wheel of Fortune.”

  “What’s that?”

  This time Savannah smiled. “We’ll watch it together.”

  Gen took her hand and raised it to her cheek. “You know what? You look like me when you smile, Savannah. You have my smile. It’s so nice to see a little of me in you.”

  “I’m glad it’s there, you’re there.”

  “Me, too.” Gen kissed Savannah’s hand before she released it. “Me, too.”

  36

  AMBER WONDERED HOW MANY people actually kept financial records as carefully and meticulously as Mark Westmore had. He must have been at least a little obsessive. And maybe, when it came down to it, that was a good quality in a physician. But every single bank statement? Every single receipt? She couldn’t imagine her own life if she’d kept that much paper. She and Will wouldn’t have had room in their car for anything else, including them.

  After hours of patiently going through multiple boxes, she had finally caught up to the year right before Mark’s death. So far the most interesting thing she’d found was a detailed log of every gift Mark had bought for Cassie and Savannah. He’d been neither extravagant nor cheap, but he’d obviously paid close attention to what he bought each year, as if he’d worried about repetition. She’d had to smile. Mark didn’t like to make mistakes.

  Now Cassie came into the dining area buttoning the cuff on a long-sleeved shirt, tricky under any circumstances since she was also clutching her cell phone. She had another job interview, and while she wasn’t excited, she was going anyway. Cassie wasn’t excited by much right now. Savannah wasn’t returning her phone calls, and her life was in limbo.

  Amber used her arrival as an excuse to stand and stretch. “If they offer you the job, will you take it?”

  “If it doesn’t involve leaving flyers in the doors of strangers, I’ll give it some thought. It’s an entry-level position in a realty office with a salary that’s just over minimum wage. But it will give me a peek at the field. I might want to get my license.”

  “Really? And for Pete’s sake, let me button that!”

  Cassie set the phone on the table and held out her arm so Amber could finish. “You have tiny hands,” Amber said. “Next time button it before you put on the blouse and slide your hands through.”

  “Thanks, and no, I don’t really want to sell houses, and I’d sure have to improve my driving skills. But at least it would be something.” Cassie finished tucking the shirt into her skirt. “Find anything I should look at before I leave?”

  Amber waved paper in her direction. “You don’t have to look at these now. Luckily most of your bank transactions were done electronically, and the info is right on the statement, but not the checks. Things were easier when canceled checks were included. Now there’s no information about what the checks were for or who they were made out to, just that they were written. So unless the amount and date jiggle a memory, you’ll have to go online for details. The bank will have a photocopy.”

  Cassie took the statements. “Every check?”

  “That seems pointless. I’ve just marked the ones that were sizable enough to make me wonder what they were for. And that brings up another issue. I checked to see if any of these amounts might be listed as deductions on your taxes for that year, if they were written to charities, etc. I looked through that file and didn’t find the most recent. Would that 1040 be somewhere else? I’d like to have them all together so I can compare.”

  “I have mine somewhere. I don’t know what happened to Mark’s. We always filed jointly, but that time, we filed separately, and he gave me copies of mine. He claimed we would save money.”

  Amber wasn’t an expert on the changing tax code, but filing separately surprised her. “He handled your taxes?”

  “He always did them. He liked trying to make sense of all of it. If he ran into a problem, he had people he could call. I’ll be using an accountant this year.”

  Amber could see how a man fascinated by record keeping might find taxes fun, even though the remainder of the planet despised it. “We can file for copies. I’ll get the form for you to fill out. But you should have his, too.”

  “I have a little time before I have to leave.” Cassie took the chair beside Amber and started riffling through the statements she had given her.

  “There are just a couple of anomalies, but they were large enough to catch my eye. One in June that year for ten thousand dollars. Do you know what that might have been for?”

  “No idea.” Cassie leafed through some more. “Here’s another you marked. Oh, I remember this one. Twenty-five hundred dollars. It was for a fundraising art auction at Savannah’s school. I remember the date and the amount because I thought it was ridiculously expensive.”

  She handed that statement back to Amber and looked at the next one. “And I bet this one for forty-five hundred was a contribution to an upstate drug treatment program where he referred some of his patients. He said they ran the program on a shoestring but he thought they did a particularly good job. He even took some time off to volunteer there when their director passed away suddenly. He told me he was going to make a donation to help keep them up and running. It looks like he wrote the check when he got home.”

  “So both of these will probably show up on his 1040 when we get it. For what that’s worth.”

  Cassie handed that statement back, too. “I’ll go online later and get copies of the checks. Anything else?”

  “There were two withdrawals. Ten thousand each, two months apart and the first was a month after the check you’re going to look into.”

  “Just cash withdrawals?”

  “That’s all I see.”

  “I’ll think about it, but as great as it would be to have that money in our hot little hands right now, it’s a drop compared to what disappeared.”

  Amber considered her next words. “Cassie, is there any chance Mark had a gambling problem?”

  Cassie pulled a long face that said the thought had occurred to her, as well. “I know that sounds like a good way to lose a lot of money fast. But Mark never so much as bought a lottery ticket, not even when the jackpots were astronomical. He treated a few gamblers who lost everything—houses, jobs, families—and he said it was one of the saddest addictions because it could be absolutely invisible until the person’s whole life completely disintegrated.”

  “I’ll keep looking.”

  “You’ve earned a year’s worth of rent already.”

  “See? You may have trouble getting rid of me.”

  After Cassie left for her interview, Amber got up to make tea. She brought it back to the table and saw that Cassie had left her cell phone. With luck, Savannah wouldn’t choose the next hour to call, because Cassie would be devastated if she missed her.

  She picked up the phone to set it on a kitchen counter when she realized what she had. Cassie had kept her New York number. With no reason to change it, she hadn’t bothered. Now, if Amber called someone using this phone, their display would show New York, if it showed anything at all. She was hoping she remembered the code to block the number entirely.

  With a silent apology to her friend, Amber took the tea and phone to the closest sofa, then she keyed in the passcode to unlock the phone. She’d used Cassie’s phone once before to order a pizza, and she knew the passcode was their address. Amber had cautioned her to change it to something less obvious, but apparently she hadn’t bothered.

  Staring at the screen now, she thought about Betsy Garland. The last message she’d left for Betsy on the bulletin board hadn’t garnered a response, and when Amber had tried Tammy’s number at the requested time anyway, the phone had rung without anyone answering. Something was very wrong.

  Through the years she had so carefully avoided dialing Betsy directly, but sh
e’d reached a point when she had to try. She only needed a few seconds to be sure Betsy was okay. She would try to block her number, then she could pretend she was calling about a quilt, use their method to tell her when to be at Tammy’s for a real call and hang up. If Darryl was tracing Betsy’s calls, a short one might not be logged.

  Without overthinking the consequences, she punched in the blocking code, then Betsy Garland’s phone number. The phone rang until Amber finally disconnected without even the opportunity to leave a message.

  She debated, but not long. She tried Tammy’s number again, using the blocking code, too. At the very least, if Tammy was there, she could tell her if Betsy was all right.

  A woman answered on the first ring. Amber was so startled it took seconds to figure out what to say. “Hi, is this Tammy?”

  “Who’s calling? Why does my phone say unavailable? You’re not one of those telemarketers, are you?”

  For just a moment Amber bathed in the Appalachian twang of her hometown. “No, I’m sorry. I’m a friend of Betsy Garland’s, Sue Simpson, one of Betsy’s 4-H girls. I’ve been trying to get hold of her. We...we like to chat. In fact I think I’ve called her at your house a few times.”

  A pause ensued. Then a friendlier Tammy answered. “I see. Then I don’t reckon you know.”

  Amber closed her eyes and waited.

  “She’s doing okay, so no need to fuss, but Betsy was in an automobile accident while she was visiting her son. You know she has a son?”

  “Yes, I—”

  “Good. Anyway, a car struck her while she was taking a walk. It was a hit-and-run, too. Nobody saw it, and by the time someone found her, Betsy was almost a goner. But she pulled through. Our Betsy’s a fighter.”