“He didn’t say. But he wanted me to be sure to give the key to you and not Layla.”
I slip it in my pocket. “Now I’m really curious.”
“I’m here for you, Lil.” His face reddens. “Professionally, I mean. Call me if you need anything.” He hands me his business card with his cell number.
I take the card from him and hurry out of the office to the car.
On the way home, Layla, who is now in the passenger seat, says, “I’m not at all surprised. Dad was a great teacher. But he sucked at managing money.”
From the back seat, Trudy says in a tight voice, “I want you girls to take my share. I wasn’t expecting this, and I don’t need it. Isaac and I been saving for our retirement for years.”
I smile at her in the rearview mirror. “That’s very generous of you, Trudy, but that money is for you. Dad didn’t give it to you because he thought you needed it. He gave it to you because he wanted you to have it. You’ve earned it taking care of us all these years. This is our way of taking care of you in your retirement.”
When we get home, I follow my sister through the house to the drawing room. She grabs two glasses and a bottle of chardonnay from the minifridge and takes them outside to the piazza. We sit side by side on the small sofa. I can’t remember when I was last in such close proximity to my sister, and the scent of her expensive perfume is a reminder of her success.
Layla fills both glasses with wine and hands one to me. “It’s never good news when an attorney requests a meeting immediately following a funeral.”
“I admit, I’m floored. I was not expecting this.” Reality hits me like a bombshell, and I fall back against the cushions. “I’m flat broke, Layla. I have less than a thousand dollars in my checking account.”
“You’re going back to work, aren’t you?”
“I was hoping to take some time off to sort out my life. The past few months haven’t been easy, and I’m having a bit of a professional crisis.” I think out loud as I sip my wine. “My salary won’t begin to cover the costs of upkeep on a house this size. Commissions from the sale of some of my paintings would help, but there’s little hope of that happening anytime soon. I’ll have to figure out some other way.”
“Hold on a sec, Lil. If you’re thinking of keeping the house, you can forget it. We own it together. You would have to buy me out, which you obviously can’t afford to do.”
I shift my position so I can look directly at her. “Our forefathers built this house, Layla. Our mother loved this house. She loved Charleston. Her heritage meant everything to her. This house is our legacy. For crying out loud, she named us Lillian Stoney and Layla Stoney to ensure that legacy lives on.”
Layla fell back against the sofa. “Jeez. I didn’t mean to touch on a sore nerve. None of that legacy stuff means anything to me. I dropped the Stoney name when I married Roger. I’m Layla Alexander Payne now.”
“Seriously? We never even met our Alexander grandparents.” Shaking my head, I mutter, “How are we even twins?”
Layla punches me playfully in the arm. “You have no idea how many times I’ve asked myself that very thing. Maybe we were switched at birth.”
“Puh-lease. Have you looked in the mirror lately? We’re not identical, but we look an awfully lot alike.”
“Except that I’m the princess and you’re Cinderella.”
Layla says things like this in jest, but they hurt my feelings nonetheless. Maybe because there’s truth to them. “Bottom line is, we can’t sell the house.”
“We can, and we will. We have no choice.”
I scowl at her. “Your husband’s right. You have changed. Your success has gone to your head.”
Her nostrils flare as she glares at me. “How’d you know that? Were you eavesdropping on us?”
I drain the rest of my wine and slam the glass on the coffee table in front of her. “Hit me again. Being drunk is the only way I can tolerate being around you,” I say, repeating what I overheard Roger tell Layla on the porch last night. I immediately hate myself for being cruel. I never intend to hurt my sister. She just brings out the worst in me.
Layla jumps up. “God, I hate you, Lillian.”
I grab her arm. “Wait, Layla! Please, don’t go. I don’t know why I said that.”
She jerks her arm away. “But you did, and you can’t take it back. Why are you always such a bitch to me?
I stand to face her. “That’s the cat calling the kettle black.”
She looks away from me. “In my case, it’s different.”
“How so? Because you’re Layla, Princess of Planet Stoney?”
She used to laugh when I called her that. Now her lips spread into a sad smile. “Because I’m mean to everyone. You’re only mean to me. Why is that?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I say flopping back down on the sofa. “Sometimes you get under my skin, and I can’t help myself.”
She sits back down beside me and refills both of our glasses. “Now is as good a time as any to talk about the problems in our relationship.”
“Ha. Where do we even start?”
She thinks about it for a minute. “Maybe we should talk about the good times we had with Dad first.”
“I like that idea,” I say. And once we get started, we can’t stop. We cry and we laugh and we cry some more. We finish off the bottle of wine and open another. The orange ball of sun is beginning its descent below the horizon when Trudy arrives with a tray of sandwiches.
I jump up and take the tray from her. “I thought you’d already gone home. What’re you doing here so late?”
“I can’t bring myself to leave.” Her face is scrunched up, and I can tell she has something on her mind. “Your family has been good to me over the years. And now it’s my turn to pay it back. I’m gonna work for free until you figure out what to do about the house.”
“No way! We can’t ask you to do that.” I’ve been too self-absorbed to think about how recent developments might affect Trudy. Sure, she got a windfall today, but she earned every penny of it, taking care of three generations of Stoneys. She’s like my mother, but she’s not my mother. It has never occurred to me that our relationship might one day come to an end.
I burst into tears and fall into her arms.
“Come now, child,” she says, stroking my hair. “What’s this all about?”
“Everything’s changing,” I sob. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you. Please, don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I will always be here for you.”
I cry for a few minutes in the safety and comfort of her arms before finally pushing her away. “I’m sorry for my outburst. I’m letting my emotions get the best of me.”
“And the wine,” Layla says.
Trudy cuts her eyes at Layla. “It’s good for you to get it all out, sweet girl.” She removes a tissue from her apron pocket and dabs at my eyes. “Your daddy is smiling down on you from heaven, seeing you girls sitting out here together on such a pleasant evening. You have some important decisions to make. If you listen to your hearts, you’ll know what to do.” She hands me the tissue and moseys toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”