One-Way True Daughter Comes Home

Chapter 3 The Neighbor

"Rachel?" The voice was older, familiar, and warm. "It's Mrs. Pruitt. Are you all right? You didn't come by yesterday."

I sat up in the bed at Pelican Bluff and looked at the unfamiliar ceiling. For a second I forgot where I was. Then the smell of the ocean came through the open window, and I remembered.

"Hi, Mrs. Pruitt," I said. "I'm okay. I'm sorry I didn't call. I had to leave town."

"I figured. The whole block figured." She paused. "I made pork tenderloin yesterday. I saved you a plate. You always come by on Sundays."

I had been living in a small apartment above a garage, in a town two states away, ever since my mother died. Mrs. Pruitt lived in the house next door. She had fed me more meals than I could count.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know I was leaving until the last minute."

"Don't apologize." Her voice softened. "I saw the story. I saw what that woman said about you. I want you to know that nobody here believes it. You're not confused, Rachel. You've never been confused about anything in your life."

I pressed the phone to my ear and did not say anything.

"Do you have a place to sleep?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Do you have food?"

"Yes."

"Good. You call me if you need anything. And when you come back, I'll have the pork tenderloin waiting."

When I hung up, I sat for a long time. In this house, I was a stranger. In my old town, I was a neighbor. The contrast made me want to leave and made me want to stay at the same time.

I went downstairs. Delia was already in the kitchen, dressed in a white blouse and a slim skirt, holding a cup of coffee. She looked at me and smiled.

"You're up early," she said.

"I had a call."

"Everything okay?"

"Mrs. Pruitt," I said. "My neighbor. She wanted to know why I wasn't there for dinner."

Delia's smile thinned. "Oh. That's sweet." She took a sip of coffee. "So you have a whole life back there."

"Yes."

"With neighbors who make you dinner every Sunday."

"Yes."

Delia put down her cup. She looked at me with a new expression, one I had not seen before. It was not hostility. It was calculation.

"I'm glad you have people who care about you," she said. "It must be hard, leaving them."

"It is."

"But you came anyway."

"Yes."

There was a pause. Then Delia said, "I've been thinking about the trust."

I did not react. I had learned to keep my face still.

"Margaret's trust," Delia said. "The one that names any biological child of Graham's. I assume the lawyers have told you about it."

"They have."

"It's not much," Delia said. "The house, the business, the foundation, those all go to Graham's estate. The trust is separate. It's small. It won't change anything."

"I know what it is," I said.

"Good." Delia smiled again. "Because I don't want you to think that you're here for the money. You're here because you're family. And family means we tell each other the truth."

She picked up her cup and left the kitchen.

I stood there for a moment. Then I went back upstairs, closed the door to the guest suite, and called the lawyer.