The Lucky One

by Caroline Overington

  ‘Tea,’ echoed Penelope. She was picking up the chicken plates now, putting them back into the fridge. ‘Iced tea or hot tea? I can make either.’

  ‘Hot tea.’ Mom crossed her arms over her golden cleavage. ‘If that’s not too much trouble.’

  ‘It’s no trouble at all,’ said Penelope, not sounding like she meant it. She lifted a timber box out of one of the high cabinets. ‘I have a selection of teas. Green tea. Peppermint tea. Liquorice. Cranberry. Chamomile,’ she said, flipping testily through the sachets. ‘There’s definitely going to be something here you like.’

  ‘Peppermint. No, chamomile.’

  ‘Chamomile it is,’ said Penelope, running water into the kettle.

  ‘It’s amazing how much has changed in Paso,’ I said, in an effort to ease the mood. ‘It’s got a real hipster vibe going on.’

  ‘It’s the foodie people. They’re making it very expensive, too,’ said Penelope, agreeably.

  ‘I’ll say things have changed, especially in this house,’ said Mom. ‘So many things are missing. Like, where is the Eames chair?’

  ‘The which chair?’ asked Penelope, feigning confusion.

  ‘The Eames chair. You know perfectly well, Penelope. The big Eames chair with the ottoman,’ said Mom, circling a manicured finger to indicate the space where the chair had once stood. ‘Black leather. Timber frame. Very stylish. Expensive. It used to be here, in this corner.’

  Penelope picked the tab off a tea bag and dropped the bag into a pink mug.

  ‘Well, some things have been sold,’ she said, cautiously.

  ‘Some things have been sold?’

  ‘Not too many things from the pavilion. But plenty of things from Alden Castle.’

  ‘Sold? Why?’

  ‘I guess the debt, Jesalyn,’ said Penelope. ‘I’m not privy to the finances but that’s what I understand. Debt being the price you pay, I suppose, for such a lovely house! I must say, I love it.’

  ‘You love it. Everyone loves it!’ said Mom. Her voice was high, and her blonde head was doing a little dance on her slender neck. ‘And yet everyone’s living in the house that I built!’

  * * *

  It was after 9am the next day when Mom rapped on my door saying: ‘For goodness’ sake, are you ever going to get up?’

  I opened one eye. Mom had nudged the door a fraction and was peering in at me.

  ‘They can’t possibly let you sleep this late at Briar Ridge,’ she said. ‘I’ve been waiting patiently. You have to get up. I need you to go to Paso. How can you still be asleep?’

  ‘I’m awake,’ I said.

  ‘Well, could you please get out of bed? And hurry? I’m going to starve here unless somebody goes and gets me some food.’

  I said, ‘Okay, okay,’ but as soon as Mom let the crack in the door close, I pulled the linen back up over my head. It was no good. I was now awake. There was a small steel plate on the wall beside my bed with a single button that brought the electronic blinds up and down. I came up from under the covers, located and pressed it to expose an old, familiar view: miles and miles of rolling hills, studded with majestic oak trees, withered vines, hiking trails and boulders, all of it still and perfect under a brilliant blue sky.

  I reached down and moved my hand around on the floor like a giant spider until it bumped into my smartphone. I examined the screen. No service. There rarely was any on the estate. I pushed back the covers and padded, barefoot in my puppy-print pyjamas, down the polished concrete corridor to the kitchen.

  ‘Something smells good.’

  ‘It’s eggs,’ said Penelope, her face grim over the pan. ‘Do you eat eggs, Eden?’

  ‘I do,’ I said, pulling up a stool.

  ‘Yes, but I don’t,’ said Mom. From her tone, it was obvious that she and Penelope had been bickering back and forward like alley cats.

  Mom went on: ‘That’s why I needed you to get up, Eden. I need somebody to go into town and get me some food. There’s not a single thing in this house that I can eat.’

  ‘Oh, that is not true, Jesalyn,’ said Penelope, defensively. ‘We have yoghurt. Or I can make pancakes for you.’

  ‘Yes, but is any of it organic?’

  I said: ‘How am I going to get into town?’

  Mom turned her attention to me. Although I was seventeen and old enough to have my licence, I’d been boarding at Briar Ridge, so I’d never got around to taking a test.

  ‘There must be somebody who can drive you,’ said Mom. ‘I definitely can’t go. I have things to do here. Important things. Do we still have people on the estate, Penelope? What about Rex? Does he still drive?’

  ‘Rex can’t do it,’ said Penelope briskly, lifting an egg to test the colour underneath, ‘but Earl can take Eden.’

  Mom turned in front of the open refrigerator. She had a carton of juice in her hand and a surprised expression on her face.

  ‘Don’t tell me Earl still lives here?’ she said.

  ‘Of course he does,’ said Penelope.

  ‘Of course he does,’ said Mom whose habit had always been to repeat things she could hardly believe. ‘Well, that must be nice for him. And where exactly does he live? Please don’t tell me – here in the pavilion?’

  ‘Of course not. He’s in the cottage,’ said Penelope. ‘Where he’s always been.’

  ‘Well, imagine that,’ said Mom, opening the carton. ‘How old is he now?’

  ‘He’s twenty-two,’ said Penelope.

  ‘Is he really?’ said Mom. ‘How time flies.’ Sniffing at the carton, she said: ‘What even is this?’

  ‘It’s orange juice,’ said Penelope.

  ‘It’s not orange juice,’ said Mom, closing the carton again. ‘It’s orange something, but it’s not juice.’

  Penelope opened her mouth as if to say something, then changed her mind.

  I jumped in, saying: ‘I’m happy to go with Earl. Is he coming up now? Have I got time to go up and see Pop before we go?’

  ‘Of course you’ve got time,’ said Mom, but Penelope said: ‘Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Eden. I’ve just been up. He’s not great today.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ said Mom.

  ‘Well, he has good days and bad days,’ said Penelope, lifting one fried egg after another onto a white platter. ‘Today is one of the bad days. He’s grumpy. He’s vague. Maybe we should wait for Fiona to arrive before we decide if he should have visitors. She’s taken over his care now.’

  ‘Okay, but it feels weird being here and not seeing him,’ I said. ‘I haven’t seen him for ages and I miss him. Can’t I just look in?’

  ‘Yes let’s go up,’ said Mom. ‘It will be fun to see him.’

  ‘No, honestly, it’s not ideal,’ said Penelope quickly. ‘I told him you were here, and he didn’t really seem to understand. I don’t want you going up there and him having no idea who you are. Why don’t you go to town, Eden, and I’ll see about bringing your pop down for dinner?’

  ‘Not for dinner,’ said Mom, quickly. The sharpness in her voice took me by surprise.

  ‘What’s wrong with that plan?’ I said.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong with that plan. It’s just that we have important things to discuss tonight,’ said Mom. ‘Things I don’t want to bother Owen with, and certainly not over dinner. But if you hurry into town, Eden, maybe you can see him after lunch. That would be okay, wouldn’t it, Penelope?’

  ‘He could well be better this afternoon,’ she said, doubtfully.

  ‘Good. Now, for God’s sake, where is the coffee?’ said Mom.

  ‘I can make coffee.’ Penelope turned away from the bench to place the egg pan back on the glass-top cooker. She moved across the kitchen to pat a sleek machine. ‘You’ll like this, Jesalyn. This machine makes proper coffee. Fletcher bought it for Fiona last Christmas.’

  ‘Good for Fletcher,’ said Mom flatly.

  ‘You know he’s studying to be a doctor,’ said Penelope. ‘And he has a girlfriend, or so I’m told.’


  ‘As I said, good for Fletcher.’

  ‘I should get dressed,’ I said, sliding off the stool again.

  ‘But you’ve hardly eaten. Won’t you have some eggs?’ cried Penelope, pushing the platter with golden yolks closer to where I’d been sitting.

  ‘I’ll take some toast with me. Should I call Earl?’

  ‘No, no, it’s all right. I’ll call Earl,’ said Penelope, looking forlornly at all she’d prepared that wouldn’t now get eaten.

  ‘Yes, somebody please call Earl, and don’t be all day, Eden,’ said Mom. ‘Tell Earl you have to hurry. I’m starving. And you want to see Pop, remember? So hurry back.’

  * * *

  •BEEFSTEAK tomatoes (the BIG ones)

  •Mozzarella (a LARGE ball)

  •Basil

  •Fresh pasta

  •FRUIT

  •Bread – the NICE kind – loaf or baguette

  •GIN – I’ll give you a note saying it’s okay

  ‘I don’t think they’re going to let me buy gin.’

  I had changed out of my puppy PJs into yesterday’s torn shorts with the floppy inside pockets. I’d also put on a bikini, under a halter, in the vague hope that it might be warm enough to have a swim in the pavilion pool, later in the day, and I’d knotted my hair into a loose bun on top of my head.

  ‘Don’t be so pessimistic,’ said Mom. ‘I said I’ll give you a note. Or else just tell them it’s for Owen Alden-Stowe at Alden Castle. That should do it. They all love him in Paso. Or they did, back when he had all his marbles. And money.’

  ‘There’s hardly any of the old folk around anymore. It’s all new people. But even the oldies won’t give her gin,’ said Penelope. ‘She’s not even eighteen, let alone twenty-one.’

  ‘God, doesn’t anyone lie about their age anymore?’ said Mom, reaching for her purse, ‘When I was young, we all had fake IDs. Don’t you have a fake ID, Eden? I’ll be so disappointed if you don’t.’

  ‘I don’t,’ I said, although, like every kid at Briar Ridge, I did.

  ‘Whose daughter are you?’ said Mom. ‘I was so bad when I was your age, and you’re so good. But no, it’s fine. Your father would be proud of you being so good. Here, take this,’ she said, handing me fifty dollars. ‘And bring me the change. And don’t be all day. And don’t eat a big lunch. Penelope’s making a special dinner for the family tonight. For the boys, I presume, since it’s lamb. But there will be something we can eat too, I’m sure. Unless it’s your intention that I starve here, Penelope?’

  ‘The boys love it when I make lamb,’ said Penelope, defensively. ‘Fletcher in particular. But don’t worry, Jesalyn. I haven’t forgotten you. There’ll be potatoes, and all kinds of lovely salads. And Earl’s on his way up from the cottage, Eden. He should be here any minute.’

  ‘I was trying to think of the last time I saw him,’ I said.

  ‘Well, you’ll be surprised. He’s grown up,’ said Penelope, a touch of pride in her voice, ‘You’re not going to recognise him. But I mean, look at you. You’re a young woman. Everyone’s changed. Jesalyn’s the only one who hasn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ snapped Mom, looking up from the box of coffee capsules.

  ‘I mean you’re still tiny,’ said Penelope, generously. ‘Like a little bird.’

  ‘Well, I work at it,’ said Mom. ‘I eat healthy. No meat. Plenty of vegetables. Nuts. No sugar. And I make sure to get my exercise. You should take up some exercise, Penelope. Something gentle to start with, maybe, and go from there.’

  ‘Perhaps I will,’ said Penelope. ‘But it hasn’t been easy, being on call for Owen.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have plenty of time off with Fiona living here now,’ said Mom, airily. ‘You could walk up here from your cottage instead of driving your car. Plus, it’s a big property. Get out and explore it.’

  ‘I know it rather well,’ said Penelope pointedly. ‘I was here before you arrived, remember?’

  ‘Can you two please stop?’

  I was sitting at the kitchen bench, rubbing the two sides of my forehead with two fingers. ‘No, really, can you please, please cut it out?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly, Eden. We’re not serious. We’re just two old friends having a nice little squabble,’ said Mom.

  ‘Your mom’s right,’ said Penelope. ‘And look, Jesalyn, you don’t have to wait for Eden to come back before you eat anything. I have some banana chips in the freezer. I have some coconut water. You could make a nice smoothie. I know you took that whizzer thing when you left here, but we have a little hand-held one. You always liked a smoothie.’

  ‘What do you mean, I took it with me? It was mine.’

  ‘Okay, that’s it.’ I stood up and shoved Mom’s money into the back pocket of my torn shorts. ‘I’m going to go outside and wait for Earl.’

  ‘Oh, baby! Give me a kiss first,’ cried Mom, opening her arms.

  I stepped across the kitchen and hugged her, feeling the bones in her arms and the tightness of her chest. I collected my purse and my phone and went out through the bi-fold doors to wait on the deck. Mom’s design had called for two, white-painted Adirondack chairs to be positioned there, with their sloping backs towards the house, so guests could watch golden sunsets at the end of the day.

  I sat down. It was peaceful, almost to the point of dreamy. A butterfly came bopping by. I had slept well but it would have been easy to close my eyes and slip back into a little dream.

  ‘Don’t get too comfortable.’ Penelope had followed me out, with a plate and a dish towel in her hands. ‘Here he comes.’

  I pushed myself up, and looked down the drive. A cloud of dust had formed on the horizon, and it was growing larger by the second: Earl, presumably, barrelling towards the pavilion in one of the old estate pick-up trucks, maybe even one that my dad had once given me a lesson in when I was ten or twelve.

  We watched as he approached, parked on the white pebbled drive, stuck his head out the driver’s side window and said: ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey yourself,’ I said, stepping off the deck.

  Earl pushed his door open – it squeaked like it needed a good oiling – and stepped down. I barely recognised him. He was wearing a pale-coloured cowboy hat with a white T-shirt, faded jeans, and dusty boots that crunched on the drive. I’d never given him much thought before, but now he was older, taller, broader and darker than I remembered, with green eyes, and lashes longer than my own.

  ‘What about a hello for me?’ said Penelope.

  ‘Hey, Mom.’ Earl skipped quickly up the steps to kiss her cheek.

  ‘What’s with the cowboy getup?’ I said.

  ‘I’m hoping it’s a stage he’s going through,’ said Penelope.

  ‘What? You don’t like cowboys?’ asked Earl. He reached up to remove his hat and muss up his hair.

  ‘You look ridiculous,’ I replied, grinning.

  ‘That’s a nice welcome,’ he said. ‘And after I’ve come all this way to take you into Paso.’

  ‘Didn’t you just come from the end of the drive?’

  ‘I went to Paso two days ago,’ said Penelope tetchily. ‘I did a big shop. But nothing I bought is good enough for Jesalyn.’

  ‘Well, we better fix that,’ said Earl, positioning the cowboy hat back on his head with great precision. Turning to me, he said: ‘You ready to go?’

  ‘I am if you are.’

  ‘Okay, then.’ He stepped back towards the pickup truck and opened the passenger-side door. ‘Let’s hit the road.’

  I grabbed hold of the worn strap and dragged myself onto the seat. Earl jogged around the front of the truck, climbed into the driver’s seat and winked at me, saying: ‘Okay, let’s have some fun.’

  * * *

  When did I know?

  Sitting here now, trying to remember, I think I knew straightaway that things were about to change for Earl and me. That we weren’t going to be friends like we’d been as kids. That we were going to fall for each other hard.
I think I knew even on that first day, when Earl suddenly leant across my lap and banged the sagging glove compartment shut.

  It was like my whole body went electric.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, grinning. ‘Didn’t mean to scare you.’

  ‘You didn’t scare me,’ I said, but then he stomped on the brakes hard, throwing me forward.

  ‘Okay, now what are you doing?’ I said.

  ‘Hold up a minute.’

  He killed the engine, opened his door and jumped down, two boots landing simultaneously on the gravel drive. He left the driver’s-side door open, and trotted back the way we’d come.

  ‘Earl?’

  I twisted in my seat so I could see through the rear windscreen where he was going.

  ‘Hang on,’ he called back. ‘I just thought I saw something.’

  I watched him jog slowly towards a wooden crate by the side of the road, then lean down and scoop something up. It was a sleek, yapping dachshund.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked. My head was now out the passenger-side window as Earl ran back towards me, rubbing the dog’s silky ears.

  ‘Here, have one dog,’ he said, passing her through the window. ‘I thought I saw her curled up in there.’

  The dog was dark brown with coal-black eyes, loose skin and velvety ears, and a loud bark. I took her onto my lap and felt her sharp paws on my skin. Dachshunds had long been the dog of choice on our estate: my nan loved them, but when she died and we built the new house Mom banished them. They have claws, and she didn’t want scratches on the sleek modern furniture, and she didn’t want their hair on the white linens or their poops on the deck. I vaguely remembered Earl had taken a few into his cottage but I hadn’t known how many were left.

  ‘Who’s this?’ I said, checking the tag. ‘Queenie. Shush, Queenie. Be quiet.’

  ‘Yes, shut up, Queenie,’ said Earl, climbing back into the truck.

  ‘She’s coming with us?’ I asked. The dog was nipping my chin and licking my face so eagerly that I had to hold my head up to keep out of her way. ‘Whose even is she?’

  ‘She was your nan’s,’ said Earl, ‘but she seems to like you.’

  ‘How can she be Nan’s?’