How Sweet It is

by Sophie Gunn

  She had moved the plywood with shaking hands.

  The diary was still hanging from its hook—

  —Under a humongous bag of cash!

  No way.

  No, no, no, no, NO WAY.

  Now, ten minutes later, Paige was still sitting on the hardwood floor, staring at the humongous pile of cash in the bag, trying to figure out something, anything that would explain this.

  She picked up one of the bundles of money and counted it. A thousand bucks. She eyeballed the stacks.

  There might be a million bucks in there.

  She stared at it for another long time, unable to move. She was thinking about leaving behind her fingerprints and being arrested and holding out as long as she could to protect her aunt, but finally having to give in and tell Tommy that it was his wife who had done it.

  Done what?

  Paige ate a few chips to steady herself.

  Aunt Annie has a superrich boyfriend and they’re hoarding cash so they can run away to Mexico. Yeah, right. Not in this town. Who’d be stupid enough to date a woman whose husband walked around all day with a gun?

  Aunt Annie won the lottery. Could be. But then, her aunt wasn’t the kind to keep a secret. As soon as she was preggers, she was running around town, waving that disgusting pee-soaked stick as if it were a flag. Privacy wasn’t something Aunt Annie was good at.

  Aunt Annie robbed a bank. But then, wouldn’t Paige have heard about a bank robbery? Everyone would be talking about it at school and Tommy would have told her all the top secret details. Plus, Aunt Annie was a goody-goody wuss married to the Prince of Boring. She’d never do anything like that.

  Paige got up and paced, trying to piece it all together.

  Hypothesize; think outside the box, Mr. Denning had said.

  Maybe the money wasn’t Aunt Annie’s.

  Maybe it was her mother’s.

  Maybe this was the money her mother had been saving all her life.

  But then, why would it be in a bag in the closet? Wouldn’t it be in the bank? No, it didn’t make sense.

  My father sent the money. It was a random thought that jumped into Paige’s head, and it stuck fast. He is smart and rich and wants to see me. Maybe he was helping her and her mom out already. Maybe he thought the same thought Paige couldn’t stop thinking, especially late at night, when she couldn’t sleep: It wasn’t fair to leave her mother with nothing when Paige left for Switzerland with him. So her dad had given her mother a bunch of money and it was in the closet because—

  Okay, so that one didn’t make any sense either.

  She looked out the window to see if her mom was coming. Sometimes she’d stay to talk to her friends at the diner. Or sometimes, the diner was superbusy, and it was hard for her to get away.

  Paige went back to her money. She was already starting to feel as if it were her money. She lay back on the hardwood floor and stared up at the ceiling. She was so sick of grown-ups telling her how her life was going to be and how she had to do the right thing. Yeah, right. The right thing.

  Then there’s a stash of cash in the laundry chute?

  The more Paige thought about it, the angrier she got.

  She dumped the money onto the floor and counted it. It was one thousand shy of two hundred thousand dollars.

  One thousand shy…

  Paige sat up.

  Aunt Annie wasn’t hiding it; she was stealing it. She must have snatched a stack of bills.

  But it was in her diaper bag.

  Paige’s thoughts jumbled around in her head. She had made so many guesses, she couldn’t sort them all out. Each one felt simultaneously true.

  She looked at the clock on the bed stand: 6:15. Where was her mother? She tried not to feel angry that her mother wasn’t there. It was too babyish to be angry about something like that. She was old enough to be home alone, to fend for herself. She wasn’t a stupid kid anymore. She deserved to be treated like a grown-up. She deserved to be trusted to go with her dad, away from Galton. To follow her dreams.

  She put the money back into the diaper bag. She’d stick it back into the chute while she thought about what to do next.

  But just as she put back the plywood, she stopped.

  Her life was so not fair. Her life was always in the hands of grown-ups and you couldn’t trust them. Just look at this money. It wasn’t cool, somehow, even if she didn’t know how or why.

  She took out one bundle. Just one. Her heart pounded. She wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans.

  She felt like a millionaire.

  She could buy the snowboard she needed to get her jumps to the next level. Get the right gear, not so she’d look cool—although that would be a bonus—but so she could stay out longer, work harder before her toes went numb. Maybe she could even buy some lessons from Paulie Jones, the best boarder on Meeks Peak. Then, when her father came to take her back to Geneva with him, she’d have the gear and the moves and she could show her mother how good she really was, how she could make boarding her life, how she didn’t need stupid school, which she stank at anyway but she did need Geneva, where the mountains were huge, not puny like the anthills in New York.

  You had to make a wish, and if you did, the universe made it come true.

  She stuffed the bills down the front of her shirt, shoved the bag back into its hiding spot, put the plywood back with her X in the right place, and straightened up the row of bags so that her mother, or her aunt, or whoever had stuffed that money there wouldn’t suspect a thing.

  CHAPTER

  18

  Two days later, Jill and Lizzie stood on the sidewalk, facing Lizzie’s house. Jill had a clipboard in her hand.

  “You sure you want to hear all this?” Jill asked. She wore four-inch heels, and Lizzie feared for her on the uneven brick path. The leaves were coming down with a vengeance today, making the walk slippery and covering the holes where bricks had been. “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Enemy Club rules, babe. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” Lizzie said, trying to hold her optimistic tone. She had no idea how she was going to fix up her house before Ethan Pond arrived on Christmas Day. But damned if she wasn’t going to try.

  Jill sighed. “Okay. Let’s start at the curb. The fence is a mess. Five thousand at least. Maybe just tear it down.”

  Jill pushed through the gate. She scribbled notes on her clipboard. “Oh, I like what you did with that bluestone. Much better than that sinkhole of bricks that I always used to trip over.”

  Lizzie looked to her feet. For the past twenty years the walk had begun with an unfortunate dip in the bricks, like a warning. Now, she stood on a brand-new slab of bluestone, perfectly square, perfectly level with the sidewalk. The single, pristine blue stone glowed next to the ancient bricks that wobbled and dipped their way to her front steps. “I didn’t do that,” she said. “Damn it, I bet Tay came in the middle of the night and put this in!”

  “I’ve been tripping in that hole for years. That stone’s a beauty.” Jill walked up the path. “And so’s that man, or so I hear from Chrissie. This walk is a mess, hon. The bricks aren’t the right kind for walking, that’s why they’re crumbling. Two thousand to lay a new brick path at the least. It’s important. Paths are key. You can scare off a buyer with a lousy path before he even opens the door. It’s psychological.”

  “Ethan’s not moving in, he’s just visiting for a few hours, giving Paige everything she wants, then leaving.”

  “Good.” Jill turned her back and walked to the porch.

  “Good? Jill, I’m joking. I’m doing this to show Paige that we can fix things ourselves. That we can take limited help from men, if we make it even.”

  But Jill had moved on. She wobbled the rail post with enough intensity to break it free. “Sorry. Shoot. That needs fixing.” She noted it on her pad.

  Lizzie sat down on the top step and watched her friend. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you? Something’s wrong.”

  Jill c
ontinued scanning the porch. “Scrape down the whole thing, repair the rotted wood and the bee holes, repaint. It’s a mess.” She sat down next to Lizzie. “Yes, I’m mad. Okay, I wasn’t going to say anything, because you’ve been kind of wired lately. But Ethan doesn’t deserve Paige. Why would you throw an innocent child into the jaws of the beast? Some people don’t deserve forgiveness, Lizzie. You need to chase him off, not encourage Paige to ally with the enemy. I think this is stupid.”

  “He was a kid. I was a kid. We were dumb, but we weren’t beasts and we weren’t enemies. And yes, he should have called or something in the last fourteen years.” Lizzie leaned on the broken post, but then thought better of it. “But if he’s grown into a kind, thoughtful man then this could be Paige’s big chance to get out of Galton and be someone. I’m going to help her.”

  Jill harrumphed. “You have to get rid of all these bird feeders.”

  “No! Why? They’re pretty.”

  “They’re eccentric. Sorry, dear, but pretty is feeding the birds with a lovely feeder or two. Eccentric is putting up a twenty-four-hour, all-you-can-eat buffet for every kind of bird on the planet. Look at them all! This porch is like the diner.” Jill peered into the conical container hanging nearest her. “A million things on the menu. To impress Ethan, you need to run a class establishment, with just a few choice items to offer. Ethan will not be impressed by a crazy bird lady. Talk about making him turn and run for the hills.”

  Lizzie scowled. “The feeders stay.”

  “Then, baby, so does Paige. Ethan Pond is a blueblood. You think he wants to take some nature child with him back to Europe?”

  “She’s not—” Lizzie began.

  Jill interrupted. “I’m in the business of first impressions, honey. Folks decide everything in the first five seconds of seeing a house, or a woman, or a kid. Especially people like Ethan Pond. Believe me, I’ve seen enough houses sit on the market for ages to know all about how people make decisions. You want Ethan to help Paige—God only knows why—you’ll take down all of the feeders but one. Two max.”

  Jill continued her ferocious house appraisal, but Lizzie had lost her fervor for the project. What if Jill was right, and she was making a terrible mistake? She looked out over her lawn, the grass splotchy, marred by brown patches. The new bluestone caught her eye. She was sure Tay had replaced it in the middle of the night.

  She smiled.

  It was sweet.

  Really sweet.

  Like his kiss.

  Still, she had to tell him to stop. She was taking over this fix-it project until he came up with something that they could trade besides kisses and vague notions of smelling the coffee, whatever that had meant.

  Jill was still talking and noting things on her pad, but Lizzie was getting overwhelmed. She pleaded exhaustion and coaxed Jill inside with an offer of Diet Coke and popcorn, two of the only foods Jill would eat outside her Lean Cuisine regimen. “Don’t start with what needs to be fixed in here,” she said as they went inside. “Ethan won’t get past the living room.” Lizzie sprinkled the popcorn with sea salt.

  “I wouldn’t take anything from Ethan,” Jill said when they were settled around the popcorn bowl.

  “You would if you had a kid to worry about,” Lizzie said, trying to tamp down her irritation at her friend.

  Jill’s face went to stone.

  “Look at us, Jill,” Lizzie went on. “We all wanted out of Galton and none of us made it. I’m going to do everything I can to help Paige. And if it means forgiving Ethan, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “What happened to do good in school and go to college and make something of yourself? Why do you have to depend on a stupid, irresponsible, immature man?” Jill asked.

  Lizzie was surprised by the vehemence in her tone. “Let’s face it, in the real world, we all need a little help.” She thought of the bluestone set into her walk. “And Ethan owes us.”

  “So tell him that. Tell him what a shit he is and that he owes you. Don’t try to impress him, Lizzie.”

  “What if he’s not a shit? What if he’s sorry?”

  “Then he should have been here fourteen years ago. It’s too late,” Jill said.

  Lizzie raised her eyebrows at Jill’s vehemence. “Look, I appreciate the solidarity, but Paige needs this. I can’t blow it. And by the way, I still need a man. You haven’t set me up with anyone.”

  “And I won’t. I don’t want to see you fake a happy life for a jerk.”

  “I already have a happy life. I’m faking the kind of happy life that a person like Ethan will understand.” Lizzie took a deep breath.

  Jill shook her head. “I wish you’d just tell him not to come.”

  “It’s not up to me, hon,” Lizzie said. “It’s up to Paige.”

  “Did you tell her?” Nina whispered to Jill later that day.

  They were in Nina’s two o’clock yoga class, Jill in downward-facing dog, Nina walking the room, correcting her four students gently. Jill insisted on keeping her cell phone next to the mat, and it kept vibrating, much to Nina’s irritation. Jill was supposed to be one with the universe, ignoring worldly distractions, giving her self a break. But Jill still pushed all Nina’s buttons. Nina suspected that Jill did it on purpose.

  “Nope,” Jill whispered back. “Tried. Couldn’t.” Jill hated yoga, but she hated not fitting into her clothes more, so she was trying it. This was her third class, and every part of her ached.

  “Right leg up,” Nina said to the class. Then she pretended to correct Jill’s form and whispered, “You need to tell her. The whole truth and nothing but—”

  Jill kicked Nina in the leg. “Oh, so sorry! My bad.”

  “And bring the right leg between your hands,” Nina said to the class, scowling at Jill, “and rise into warrior one.”

  “It’s not right,” Nina whispered, adjusting Jill’s hand. “Just tell her. She needs to know.”

  “I know. I will. When I’m ready.”

  “It’s been fourteen years.”

  “Yeah, exactly. So what’s another few days?”

  CHAPTER

  19

  The next few days, Tay didn’t show.

  Lizzie told herself that she didn’t care. This was good. If he didn’t show up, then she didn’t have to think anymore about those ridiculous dreams she’d been having all week. They involved her and Tay kissing just the way they’d kissed in the bar, only in her dreams, they didn’t stop there…

  Lizzie was slipping on her shoes to leave for work when someone knocked on the front door. She carefully went to the living room, not making a sound, hoping against all her better judgment that it was Tay.

  Also hoping it wasn’t.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d say to him, how she’d tell him she was done telling him to leave.

  She peered out the front window. Tay was sitting on the porch swing, gently rocking, the heel of his boot not leaving the ground.

  She should answer the door. But she didn’t. She was mad at him for pulling away from that kiss even though the last thing she had wanted was a kiss.

  But still.

  She opened the door, but didn’t come out. Before he could speak, she held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to be your charity case. I can’t handle that right now. It makes me feel like a loser.” Your kissing me and then pulling away like I’m a leper makes me feel like a loser. “I think that you should find someone else to help. It was nice meeting you, Tay.” She picked up his map from the table by the door and tossed it into his chest, then shut the door.

  She leaned her back against it. She could hear her own breathing, feel her blood pumping, her heart pounding.

  She had done it. She had told him to leave and this time, she didn’t let him get a word in.

  Or a kiss.

  They were done playing games.

  She had started to walk away when she heard his boots clump across the wooden porch toward the door. She froze. The mail slot opened and a piece of
folded yellow paper floated to the floor, landing in front of her bare toes. She considered it, but didn’t move to pick it up. She heard him settle back on the porch swing. She stared at the paper and listened to the creak of the rusted chains.

  This impossible man!

  She picked up the slip of paper and unfolded it carefully. It had a phone number written on it in a careful, slanted hand. She sat on the couch, watching him through the living room window.

  She had never seen anyone so completely, absolutely alone.

  Her house hummed around her. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked, echoing through the big, empty rooms.

  Tick, tick, tick…

  This was ridiculous.

  She dialed the number.

  She heard the faint sound of his ring tone, muffled through the windows, something classical. Mozart? After a few bars of violins, he answered. “Hello. Tay Giovanni here. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “What do you want from me, Tay?” she asked.

  “I need to know what color paint you were thinking for the fence. I’ll finish it, since I started it, and then I’ll go. I hate to leave a job half done.”

  She took a deep breath. Of course that was all he wanted. Why would she think he wanted more? “White, I guess. But then you need to go. For good.”

  He looked right at her through the window. Could he see her in the darkened living room?

  “I will. But first, you deserve the whole story, Lizzie. If you want to hear it.”

  “Yes.” No. I don’t know…

  He got up from the swing and walked to the window. He leaned against the frame. He felt as close as if he was standing right next to her. “It’s not going to make you feel any better about me. In fact, it’ll probably make you call your brother-in-law again.”

  “Great.” She said it sarcastically, but she liked his straightforward manner. She settled deeper into the couch. Surely, he couldn’t see her.

  “You want to ask questions, or do you want me just to talk?”

  “Talk.” She wanted to hear his story, his way.