Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
My one and only brother died in a horrific car accident, and while some preacher read his eulogy and a crew of funeral home workers lowered him into the frozen ground, I celebrated with beers and strangers at a pub in Glasgow.
It’s not the kind of thing I expect anyone to understand.
“Just got back to the States,” I say. “Thought I should tie up some loose ends with his estate before I figure out my next move.”
“Ooh, a worldly gentleman now, are we?” She lifts a shoulder and gives me a teasing wink.
“Nah. Just wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.”
Her demeanor shifts. She gets it. No need to rehash what took me from point A to point B.
“Well, are you at least having a good time?” Lynnette takes a long drag. “Seeing the world?”
“The best.”
She exhales a plume of opaque white smoke before stubbing her cigarette against her crystal ashtray. “Then that’s all that matters.”
“Say, what’s the deal with the house?” I scratch my temple. “Drove by earlier, and it looked like someone was living there? Saw lights on inside and someone standing by the window.”
I had to slow down to make sure I wasn’t seeing something.
My guess is it’s a squatter.
Her forehead creases. “Yeah. That’d be Donovan’s . . . fiancée. I guess that’s what you’d call her? She’s not his widow since they weren’t married . . . anyway, I hear she’s finishing the renovation they started.”
I chuff. “She realizes she doesn’t actually own the place, right?”
“Honestly, I’ve never talked to the girl. And actually, I didn’t even know Donovan was engaged until after he died and someone at the coffee shop was talking about his fiancée. I was going to introduce myself and offer my condolences to her at the funeral, but the poor thing was inconsolable. Since then, I’ve only ever seen her around town in passing. She mostly keeps to herself. Just works on that house day and night. It’s sad, really.”
The sad part is that anyone would be that heartbroken over losing Donovan.
“So wait. Why is she pouring money into that dump?” I’m still confused. The thing leans to the left and needs a new roof, a full electrical rework to bring it to code, and a complete gut job inside. You look up money pit in the dictionary, you’ll see a picture of that shithole. Maybe it was a beacon of beauty in its first life, when some local 1900s doctor built it for his growing family, but once my mother passed and my father was left to care for it, it took a one-way trip downhill.
“You’ll have to go straight to the source on that one,” she says. “Like I said, I’ve never talked to her. I think her name is Annie? Annielynn? Something like that.”
“Hate to break it to Annielynn, but I’m about to raze the damn thing. Hope she hasn’t put too much time and money into it . . .”
Lynnette cocks her head. “You can’t do that, can you?”
“My father left Donovan the house after he died,” I say. “Donovan died childless and unmarried and, as far as I know, without a will. As his closest living relative, that makes anything and everything he owned legally mine. Once I get the paperwork in order, I’m donating it to the fire department, watching them burn it to the ground; then I’m out of here.”
“Oh, come on, kid. You really want to cause all that trouble over a house that isn’t worth anything anyway?”
“It has nothing to do with what it’s worth,” I say.
“Oh, honey. I know you want to burn your past to the ground and you think it’ll make you feel better, but it doesn’t work that way. In the end, there might be a pile of ash where that house once sat, but you’ll still feel the way you feel right now.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“That poor girl is so heartbroken.” Lynnette splays a bone-thin hand over her heart. “I wish you could’ve seen her at the service. The way she cried, you’d have thought they’d been together a lifetime.”
“Obviously she didn’t know him very well.”
“Still.” Lynnette doesn’t disagree. “Just because your last name is Byrne doesn’t mean your life needs to be all fire and brimstone all the time.”
“Is there any other way?” I give her a wink, keeping a straight face.
“You need a place to stay while you’re here?” She changes the subject. “I can make up the pullout couch in the basement. My sister’s coming later this week, but it’s yours for the next couple of nights if you want it.”
“I got a room at the Pine Grove Motel.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Oh, hell no.”
“What?”
“That’s the last place you should be staying. Nothing but hooligans hanging out on that side of town.”
I choke on my laugh. “Hooligans. You’re really showing your age, Lynnette.”