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  “Well, that’s better, I suppose. I thought perhaps you’d moved on as quickly after Phillip’s death as you did after Dad’s.”

  Ouch. My eyes darted toward the bar, in the hope that Cute Guy with Ponytail was there to offer a distraction, but he was nowhere in sight. I then looked at the chair next to me—anything to avoid catching either set of eyes at the table. Sharp pinpoints of light from the medallion were shining out from the tiny holes in the weave of Katherine’s bag. It looked like an ice-blue porcupine sitting in the chair, and between that silly image and my already-frayed nerves I struggled to keep a straight face.

  It seemed for a moment that Katherine was going to let Mom’s snarky comment pass, but she finally gave a long sigh. “Deborah, I don’t want to hash through old history with you, but I’m not going to let you toss out snide remarks in front of Kate without giving her my side of the story.” She turned to me and said, “I married Phillip three years after your grandfather died. Clearly, your mother felt that was too soon. But Phil was my friend and colleague for many years, and I was lonely. We had fifteen good years together and I miss him very much.”

  I decided the safest course was just to smile politely. From my perspective, three years was a pretty long time.

  “Why don’t we focus on the issue of the house then, Mother? Why buy a house if you’re so ill? Wouldn’t it make more sense to check into an extended-care facility?”

  I thought that was a pretty cold statement, but I kept quiet. Katherine just shook her head, and then reached for her handbag.

  “I have my library to consider, Deborah. They don’t have much space for books in old-folks’ homes. And I’d like to enjoy the time I have left. Shuffleboard and penny-ante poker aren’t on my to-do-before-I-die list.”

  She opened the purse and blue light flooded the table. I watched Mom closely. I could see light reflected in her eyes, but her expression didn’t change at all. I didn’t understand how it was possible, but it was clear that she really couldn’t see the light from the medallion.

  “Here’s the situation in a nutshell. I have a brain tumor. It is inoperable.” Katherine didn’t pause for reaction but continued, her voice brisk and emotionless. “We’ve tried chemotherapy and radiation, which accounts for the lack of hair.” She ran her hand across the top of her head. “I’m told it would have been considered chic a few years ago. The bad news is that I probably only have a year—a bit more if I’m lucky and a bit less if I’m not. The good news is that with a few exceptions, the doctor says that I’ll be able do pretty much anything I want in the time that I have left.”

  She pulled a long envelope from her bag and removed the contents—several sheets of paper, very official looking. “This is my will. I inherited a substantial sum when Phillip died. Everything I own goes to Kate, including the house. If I should die while she is still a minor, Deborah, I am asking you to be executor of the trust until she turns eighteen. There is only one stipulation. You must continue to employ Connor so that my work goes on. Kate will be free to change that once she is of age, but I hope he’ll be allowed to stay as long as he wishes. If you decide that you do not want to be executor, I will ask Harry.

  “I also have one request,” she added. “I would not want to make this a requirement. The new house is huge and is less than a mile from Kate’s school. I am hoping that you’d both be willing to move in with me.” Katherine stared for a long moment at Mom, who had flinched visibly at the suggestion, before continuing. “If you’d prefer to stay closer to the university, Deborah, then I’ll make the same request of Harry. Either way, Kate would be with me for part of each week and that would give us time to get better acquainted.”

  Katherine pushed the papers toward Mom. “This copy is for you.” She squeezed my hand, then stood and picked up her purse. “I know that you need to think about all of this. Please, finish your dinner and have dessert, if you’d like. I’ll take care of the check on my way out.”

  And then she was gone, before Mom or I could say a word.

  “Well, she hasn’t lost her flair for the dramatic.” Mom picked up the legal document by one corner, as though it might bite. “I do not want to move in with her, Kate. And don’t look at me like I’m evil incarnate. If you want to fulfill the ‘one year in a haunted house’ clause in your grandmother’s will, you’ll have to work it out with your dad.”

  “Now who’s being dramatic? Me staying there isn’t part of the will. She said it was just a request. And I don’t think you’re being ‘evil’—but jeez, Mom, she’s dying. She’s not a monster and she seems very…” I paused, looking for the right word. “Interesting, I guess. And maybe if you spent some time with her, you two could work out your differences so you won’t feel guilty when she’s dead.”

  That earned me a dirty look. “Kate, I’m not in the mood for amateur psychoanalysis right now. There’s a lot that you don’t understand, and probably won’t understand until you’re a parent. Truthfully, I’m not sure I want you even visiting her, much less staying there. She’s manipulative and selfish, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “I don’t see how you can say she’s selfish when she’s leaving us a lot of money. At least, I assume it’s a lot of money.”

  Mom glanced down at the envelope. “I think that’s a pretty safe assumption. But I hope that I’ve taught you that money isn’t everything, Kate. There’s such a thing as giving of yourself when someone needs you. Time, attention, sympathy…”

  She finished the last of the wine in her glass before continuing. “I was always closer to my dad than I was to Mother, but I needed her really badly after the accident. I lost my father and I lost my twin. I barely got a chance to say good-bye to Dad—and Prudence was just gone. No good-bye, nothing. I felt so alone. We both suffered the same loss, but Mother closed herself up in her bedroom and I hardly saw her. She came out for the funeral and then went right back into the bedroom.”

  Mom ran her finger thoughtfully around the edge of the empty glass. “Maybe that’s why I was drawn to your dad. Harry was the first person I ever knew who understood that kind of loss.”

  Both of my dad’s parents were killed in an auto accident when he was only five; he was lucky to have survived the crash himself. No one I loved had ever died, and both Mom and Dad had always been there, physically, when I really needed them. But I could definitely sympathize with feeling alone. After each of the “panic attacks,” I felt as though no one understood what I was going through. I was furious that Mom and even Dad tried to dismiss them as normal and explainable events, when I knew without a doubt that they most definitely were not.

  “I’ve always believed,” Mom continued, “that a mother should worry first about her child, not about her own needs. But I probably don’t always put that into practice as well as I should, either. And… I don’t want you to look back twenty years from now and be as angry at me as I am with her.

  “I don’t want to live with my mother and I don’t want her money. But,” she added, “you’ll be an adult soon, and you’re old enough to decide for yourself. I won’t stop you from seeing her if that’s what you want. You and your dad can work out the rest of it. Does that sound fair?”

  I nodded. I had been expecting her to mull things over for days or even weeks, and was surprised to actually have a decision. “You want to split a dessert?”

  She smiled. “No way, kiddo. I want my own. I need something big and gooey, with lots and lots of chocolate.”

  2

  “You’re late, young lady.” Dad shoved a bowl of vegetables into my arms the second I walked in the door. “We’re going to have to hustle to get the jambalaya ready before Sara arrives. The knife is on the table. Chop-chop.”

  I rolled my eyes at the lousy pun, even though I really don’t mind them. If Dad is making bad jokes, it means he’s in a good mood.

  We both like to cook, but on school nights there’s rarely time for more than soup and sandwiches. On Sundays, however, we go all out.
Usually Dad’s girlfriend, Sara, joins us to sample whatever gastronomic experiment is on tap for the week. Unfortunately, the kitchen isn’t really designed for anything more adventurous than microwave pizza. There’s barely room at the counter for one person, let alone two. So I sat at the kitchen table chopping the “holy trinity” of Creole cuisine—bell peppers, celery, and onions—while Dad stood at the sink doing his share of the prep work.

  The envelope with Katherine’s will was on the far side of the small table so that it wouldn’t get spattered as I chopped the vegetables. I glanced over at Dad as I pushed the last bits of celery into the bowl. “Mom said to tell you hello. So did Katherine.”

  Dad’s smile twisted a bit. “Ouch. How deep am I in it this time?”

  I grinned and began slicing the pepper into narrow ribbons. “About chin-deep, I’d say. Katherine said that you helped her find a realtor.”

  “I gave her the website of someone that Sara knows and said he might be okay. That’s hardly aiding and abetting the enemy.” He returned to the ham he was chopping. “So is she going to buy a place here?”

  “She’s already bought it. Walking distance from Briar Hill, so it must be pretty close by. I thought you knew.”

  He chuckled. “No. I think Katherine decided that my life might be easier if I knew less rather than more about her plans. But I will say I’m happy she’s back.” His eyes, the same deep green as my own, darkened. “How is she?”

  “You know she’s sick, then?”

  “Yeah. She told me in her last email. Really sad. I’ve always liked Katherine, despite your mom’s feelings about her.”

  I stacked the thin strips of green pepper and turned them around to start dicing. “To look at her, you wouldn’t think she was dying. Her hair is super short—she said it was from the treatments. I can’t remember what she looked like before, though, except for some really old photos.” I paused for a moment. “Did you tell her about my… panic attacks… or was that Mom?”

  “Um… that was me. I hope that’s okay? She emailed me a while back and asked how you were doing. I was worried about you and I wondered if maybe your mom went through something like that when she was your age. I guess I could have asked your mom directly, but getting that sort of information out of Deborah is like pulling teeth.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I just wondered. Did she tell you about the will?”

  “No. Didn’t know there was a will. Is she trying to get your mom to take money again?”

  “Well, not exactly.” I slid the diced peppers into the bowl with the back of the knife and started on the onions. “Katherine says she’s leaving everything to me, including the big house she just bought. A lot of other stuff, too. And unless Mom has a serious change of heart, I think you’re going to need to be executor or guardian of a trust or something like that.”

  Dad narrowly missed slicing his forefinger. He set the knife down carefully on the cutting board and pulled up the other chair, wiping his hands on the dish towel. “A trust?” I handed him the envelope, and he was silent for a moment as he glanced through the legal documents. “I didn’t even know Katherine had enough money to buy a house, especially around here. I thought maybe she’d be looking at a townhome or something. Sara’s friend owes me a beer—hell, a six-pack—for sending him that commission.”

  “There’s more,” I said. “Katherine wants me to move in with her—well, Mom, too, but I think she knew what her answer would be. She knows I’m here part of the week and with Mom the other, so she said if Mom said no, she would ask you instead.”

  “That’s a condition of the will?”

  “No. But I want to do it.”

  Dad looked at me for a long moment. “Are you sure, Katie? I doubt the next few months will be easy ones for your grandmother. And this may sound a little cold, but the closer you get to her, the more it will hurt when she’s gone. I mean, I care about Katherine, but my first consideration has to be you.”

  “I know, Dad. But I think she’s lonely.” I considered mentioning the medallion to him, but I wasn’t sure he would believe me. He wouldn’t think I was lying, but he might start worrying about whether I had a screw loose. And even though she hadn’t sworn me to secrecy or anything, it seemed like a breach of faith to talk about what I had seen with anyone else before Katherine had a chance to tell me more. “I want to get to know her. Before it’s too late…”

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “What does your mom say?”

  “Mom won’t move in with her, even on a part-time basis. But other than that, she says it’s up to us. And you could stay here on the days I’m with Mom so that you can spend some nights with Sara…” Dad’s face turned a deep shade of red and I mentally kicked myself. I’d realized months ago that Sara stayed over on the nights I was with Mom, but that probably wasn’t the smoothest way of letting him know that I knew.

  “Um. Right.” He stood up and went back to the cutting board. “I think I should have a chat with your mom before we discuss this further. Since I’m in chin-deep already, I’d like to avoid making things worse. But if she’s really okay with this and you’re sure it’s what you want…”

  Once the jambalaya was bubbling fragrantly on a back burner, Dad picked up his cell phone and the will and went into the bedroom. I pulled my astronomy book out of my backpack and tried to read the assignment, but concentrating wasn’t easy. I kept expecting to hear raised voices coming from the bedroom—although that was probably silly since Dad never yelled, and it would be pretty hard to hear Mom over his cell even if she was screaming at the top of her lungs.

  I had just gotten up to give the pot a stir when Dad returned. He handed me the will and a small scrap of paper, on which he’d jotted a phone number.

  “That went better than I expected. Your mom seems kind of… subdued, I guess. And she says this decision is up to us… just leave her out of it as much as possible. The only time she got angry was when I suggested that she might want to think about spending some time with Katherine. She told me to mind my own business. Not in polite terms, either.”

  He pulled the plates from one of the small overhead cabinets—a complicated process that required him to first move the cereal bowls and a small colander. “Sara will be here any minute. Why don’t we all have dinner and then you can call your grandmother with the news? I just hope she bought a place with a nice big kitchen.”

  I was up well before dawn on Monday, with much more energy than I usually have in the early mornings. I showered and dressed, and then tapped on Dad’s door. He was awake, but he didn’t look happy about it. “You need to hurry, Dad, or we’ll be late.”

  He yawned and stumbled toward the shower. “Patience, grasshopper. It’s a five-minute walk.”

  When I called her with the news the night before, Katherine gave me directions to the house and asked if we would stop by for a quick breakfast before school. “I know it won’t give us much time to talk—really talk. I just want to see you. I’m so happy you’re going to be staying here. And I want you to meet Connor—and Daphne, too, of course.”

  I didn’t have a chance to ask who Daphne was before she hung up, but I found out the second that Dad and I walked through the front door of the huge greystone house. A large Irish setter jumped up, placed both paws on my shoulders, and gave me a long, wet slurp on the side of my face. She had big dark eyes and little specks of gray on her auburn muzzle.

  “Daphne, you beast, get down! You’ll knock Kate over!” Katherine laughed as she pulled at the dog’s collar. “I hope you aren’t afraid of dogs, dear. She’s really a sweetheart—just doesn’t think before she leaps. Did she hurt you?”

  “No, she’s beautiful! She’s so light for such a big dog.”

  “Yes, well, she’s mostly fur. And she’s a bit overexcited, I’m afraid. She’s been cooped up in a kennel while we were moving in. She’s so happy to have a whole new house and yard to explore that she’s acting like a pup again.”

  Katherine cl
osed the door behind us. “Harry, it’s wonderful to see you. Come, put down your things and let’s head to the kitchen so that the two of you can make it to class on time.”

  The kitchen was a big, open space. The first tentative rays of sunlight were shining through the sliding door, which opened onto a small patio. At the far end of the room was a large bay window with an upholstered seat that looked like the perfect place to curl up with a good book on a rainy day.

  “Harry probably remembers that I am the world’s worst cook,” Katherine said. “I decided it would be better to feed you bagels than to torture you with a grandmotherly attempt at blueberry muffins. There’s cream cheese, fruit, orange juice, and coffee. And yes, Harry, I do have the kettle on for tea. Earl Grey or English breakfast?”

  I looked toward the counter where she was pointing, and at first glance I thought there was a lamp behind the big bagel box. Then I realized it was the medallion, shining as brightly as it had in the restaurant.

  I was surprised to see Dad stop looking through the bagel options and pick it up. “You still have this!”

  “Oh, yes,” Katherine said. “That goes everywhere I do. My lucky charm, I guess.”

  “This really brings back memories for me. Katie, I’m sure you can’t remember this at all, but you were totally fascinated by this when you were a baby. Every time Katherine came to visit, you’d crawl into her lap and stare at it. I don’t think there was anything you liked better. You would smile and laugh like this thing was the best toy in the world. You used to call it…”

  “Blue light,” Katherine said softly.

  “That’s right,” Dad said. “We weren’t sure what you were saying at first—it sounded like ‘boo-lye.’ Even after you knew all of your colors, you still called this your ‘blue light.’ When your mom or I would correct you, you would get all serious and say, ‘No, Daddy, that’s a blue light.’ We finally gave up.” He tousled my dark hair, the way he’d always done when I was small. “You were such a cutie.”