“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded. “Just full of Braxton Hicks contractions all day.”
“Warm bath,” I suggested.
“For sure. I’m going to head out early and do just that.”
Hannah hugged her goodbye, and we left, heading first to the store and then carrying our groceries home while Hannah chatted about Cassidy, the food, and the cookbook. When we finally reached home, she skipped over to the laundry room door keeping Molly at bay and released the hound. The dog spun around Hannah several times before the two of them took off for the kitchen at a run, the maroon shawl flying like a superhero cape. My daughter was a superhero. Resilient. Strong. Some days, I wasn’t sure where she got it, because I rarely felt that way.
I felt weak all the time.
After dinner, I helped Hannah with her bath, we read through several of the recipes in the cookbook, and then I tucked her into bed with the latestEllray Jakesbook by Sally Warner. Because of Stacy, I was putting stories with people of color as the protagonists in front of my daughter. It was yet another reason Stacy was going to be an incredible teacher and administrator. She was going to change the world one life at a time.
My phone rang, and Hannah saw Nash’s face on the screen before I did. She picked it up. “Hi, NaNa,” she said with a smile. Her nickname for Nash from her baby days sent warmth through me as did his nickname for her.
“BoPeep! How the heck are you?”
“We’re making chocolate cake tomorrow,” she said, and Nash chuckled. I let them chat for a minute and then told Nash I’d call him back after putting Hannah down.
I kissed my daughter on the forehead and tucked the blankets around her like a phyllo roll before turning on the lava lamp on Hannah’s side table. I’d leave it on until she fell asleep and I came up for bed. I brushed a hand over Molly’s fur at Hannah’s feet and then shut the lights off with the door cracked open.
I went back down the stairs, determined to tackle the mountain of paperwork and bills that I’d been ignoring ever since my mom had left. She’d been here for almost a month, helping do all the most important things after Grams’ death, just like she’d helped me through it all after Darren had died. But after the will had been read and everything had pretty much been left to me, there had been a wall that had come up between me and the rest of my family.
Mom hadn’t wanted to hear about anything related to the store or the house. So, I’d shoved it aside while waiting for the official death certificate and documents from the lawyers in order to switch everything over into my name.
Two hours later, I pushed a hand through all the papers spread out on the antique rug in frustration. I collapsed on my back next to the paperwork. How could Grams not have told me things were so bad? I’d been here for over three years, and she’d never once let on that she was a beat away from losing the store. Instead, she’d done the opposite. She’d gotten the loan for the small remodel and to fix the roof. She’d insisted that Hannah, Molly, and I live here rent-free. She’d barely let me buy groceries or pay for utilities.
Guilt ate at me.
Her love for it all was why I didn’t understand how she could have allowed things to get so out of hand. She’d continued to give lessons even when people weren’t paying, she’d still ordered new albums and CDs—even when she rarely sold the stock she did have—and she’d ordered a bunch of instruments to give to the public school. In the meantime, she hadn’t paid her property taxes in over a year, and there was now a lien on the store.
It didn’t seem like her at all, and yet, it did. My ever-optimistic grandmother had thought everything would come right again with the proceeds from the Apple Jam Music Fest. It was slated for the weekend before Memorial Day, and she and I had been working on it for over a year. But since she’d passed, I’d not opened one thing in regards to it. I hadn’t answered any of the emails from people who were scheduled to play, those who’d purchased vendor tables, or even attendees asking if the three-day event was going to go ahead as planned without her.
I hadn’t answered because I hadn’t known.
The first year I’d moved in with her, she’d already had the plans for the festival well in hand when I’d arrived. I’d just helped after the fact. I’d basically been a gopher, going where she’d told me to go, making sure people knew where to set up their booths, ensuring the green-room catering arrived, and guiding the volunteers to their positions. She’d been ninety years old at the time and proved all the age-ists wrong. She was as whip-smart and firm in her old age as she’d been when she was younger. At least, that was what I’d thought. When she’d started planning for the event this time, I’d been glad I was there to help even when it hadn’t seemed like she really needed me. One thing was certain: I couldn’t fill the shoes she’d left behind. Elana Johnsonwasthe Apple Jam Music Fest, and now she was gone.
My phone buzzed with a text from Stacy, making me remember I hadn’t called Nash back. They would both be a welcome relief from the pile in front of me.
STACY: Jay says he can watch the kids Friday night. You up for a PAR-TAY?
ME: You mean a drink at Mickey’s?
STACY: There may or may not be karaoke involved.
I was not a singer. I warbled and rarely knew all the words, but it was Stacy’s night, and I’d do just about anything she wanted if it meant celebrating her.
ME: If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do.
Jin wasn’t a karaoke-lover either, but he would do anything for his wife.
STACY: You’re a real friend.
ME: Remember that when we have pretzels thrown at us because no one can stand my frog croak.
STACY: We’ll put Jin in front. He can deflect them for us.
ME: You’re lucky he loves you.
