Meant To Be Hers. Joan Kilby
Larry dispose of Irene’s personal effects but didn’t relish deciding the fate of her aunt’s collection of art objects and furniture.
“I don’t know.” Brenda shrugged. “It’s not like he needs it. He made a pile of dough when he sold his tech company.”
“The reading of the will is next week,” Carly said. “Maybe you should be there since your father can’t.”
“Sorry, I really do need to get back to Portland,” Brenda said. “Let me know what happens and I’ll pass it on to Dad.”
“Sure.” Carly nodded. “Have either of you seen Rufus? He went missing last night. Finn and I searched the whole neighborhood this morning.”
“No, I was wondering where he’d got to,” Brenda said. “That’s terrible.”
“I haven’t seen him, either.” Frankie straightened to wring out the mop. “Have you called the animal shelter?”
“Not yet. I’ll do that.” Carly pulled her phone out of her hoodie pocket and flicked it on to find a dozen messages. Her father; Althea, a friend in New York; Herb, her boss; a celebrant she’d contacted but not used in the end. She would reply to those TEXTs later. Finn’s message she opened and read aloud, “Checked the animal shelter. Rufus hasn’t been brought in.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up. Never knew that dog to miss a meal.” Frankie took the bucket and mop out to the laundry room. When she returned she glanced around the clean kitchen and nodded, satisfied. “I’ve got to take my son to soccer. ’Bye, Brenda. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I wish it had been under different circumstances.” Brenda turned to Carly. “I’m going, too. Sorry I can’t stay and help some more.”
“It’s fine. Thanks again.”
Carly walked them out, leading the way down the hall to the foyer. While Brenda ran upstairs to get her suitcase, Carly gave Frankie another hug. “I’m glad I got to talk to you last night. Now I know why my aunt liked you so much.”
Frankie squeezed her shoulders. “Come over any time for coffee. How long are you staying in town?”
“Not long,” Carly said. “A few more days.”
“With Irene’s passing I don’t suppose you’ll come west as often.” Frankie started down the steps. At the bottom she turned and looked up at the house, a wistful expression softening her pointed features. “I’ll miss hearing the music. In the evening, after her students had gone, she would play the piano for hours.”
“I remember.” Carly leaned on a post, smiling. “When I was young and had to go to bed early, I would lie awake, listening.”
“Mom!” A boy of about nine in a soccer uniform of a white jersey with green shorts and socks ran out of the house next door. “I’m going to be late.”
“Coming!” Frankie waved goodbye to Carly and hurried down the sidewalk.
Brenda bustled out, wheeling an overnight bag. “Take care and keep in touch, okay? You have my email. My cell number is in Irene’s address book next to the phone. Call me any time.”
“I will.” Carly hugged her and waited until Brenda had driven off in her rental car. Before she could head inside, a red Mini packed to the roof with overflowing boxes pulled out of the parking spot Brenda had vacated.
The door opened and a tall young man unfolded his thin limbs and emerged. In his midtwenties, he had dark blond hair neatly combed from a side part and wore thick glasses. His blue cardigan looked hand-knit and the pocket protector in his cotton shirt bulged with pens, a small ruler and a calculator.
He pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and consulted it, looking up at the house.
“Can I help you?” Carly asked.
He wiped his palms on his pants and approached the open gate in the picket fence. “I’m Taylor Greene. It’s April 30. I’m a day early. I hope that’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
He adjusted his glasses and squinted at her. “Are you Irene Grant?”
“No, I’m her niece, Carly. Irene passed last week.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He made as if to drag his hand through his hair then carefully patted it instead. “The thing is, I rented a room in her house.” He gestured to his car. “I’ve brought all my stuff, ready to move in.”
Carly’s headache returned, tiny hammer blows to her right temple. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I had no idea she’d rented out a room or I would have contacted you to let you know it’s no longer available.”
Behind his thick lenses panic flashed in his eyes. “You don’t understand. I really need this.”
“The room isn’t available,” Carly repeated. “I don’t know what’s happening to the house but I imagine it will be sold.”
“I have a rental agreement,” he insisted. “I viewed the listing online and deposited the first month’s rent directly into her bank account.”
How could he not understand? Her aunt was dead. “I’ll return your money, of course.” Carly turned her palms out. “I wish I could help you but—”
“She was so kind and welcoming.” Taylor’s tone hovered between hope and despair. Behind his thick glasses his eyes beseeched. “Breakfast and dinner were included.”
“I’ll talk to her bank manager tomorrow and arrange a repayment,” Carly said. “You must see it’s impossible.”
“Please don’t say that. I’m doing my PhD and starting a new phase of my research tomorrow. I’ve booked the telescope. If I miss my slot I won’t get another chance for months. I don’t have time to look for another place to rent.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Anyway, I can’t go back.”
“Back where?”
“H-home.” His voice cracked.
Carly had a strong urge to run inside and lock the door. She didn’t want to know, didn’t want to feel sympathy for him. All too easily she got entangled in people’s lives and tried to help them.
“Did your marriage end?” she asked reluctantly. “Did you break up with your girlfriend?”
His fair skin suffused with color from his collar to his hairline. “I still live at home. My father left my mother for another woman last year. Since then I’ve been all my mom’s got.” He broke off to take an asthma puffer from his pocket, sucking in a couple of deep pulls. “If I go back now I may not have the guts to leave again.” He stood there, arms slack at his side, resignedly awaiting her verdict.
Carly sighed. “You’d better come inside and we’ll talk about it.”
Taylor followed her into the house, craning his neck to glance around as she led him straight to the kitchen. “It’s even nicer than it looked online.”
“Have a seat,” Carly said. “Do you want a cup of coffee, or a beer?”
“A beer sounds great.” He sat at the table. “That’s something I should buy for myself, though, right?”
“If you were staying, yes.” She handed him a beer from the fridge and crossed her arms. “You say you’re doing a PhD. What’s your thesis topic?”
“Astrophysics,” Taylor said, “Pulsar activity.”
“Pulsars. What are those exactly?”
Behind his glasses, Taylor’s eyes glowed. “When a star explodes it leaves behind pieces no bigger than a grain of salt. Yet each grain weighs more than the sum total of every human being on Earth.”