HELEN
This past week had been absolute hell. During the rare moments I wasn’t bawling my eyes out, I was pity baking an unhealthy amount of cookies and muffins. I had definitely put on a few pounds.
I no longer felt like I had a purpose. I didn’t have a job, an inheritance, and I was too upset to write anymore. The two weeks I had told Wally I’d stay in this home were up and I had no idea what to do. I texted him saying I needed a few extra days to move out, to which he responded with a single thumbs up emoji. He had given me space and time to make the decision without too much pressure, which I had appreciated. But the reality was, I couldn’t stay here if I wasn’t willing to follow through with Dudley’s will, no matter how crazy it was.
I debated telling everything to Wally, hoping he’d just give me the house considering what I was supposed to do was illegal. That way I could sell it myself and use the money to dig myself out of the hole my firing had created, but Wally had told me he was under strict orders. Even if he agreed that Dudley’s idea was crazy, he would have to sell the house to the highest bidder. I considered buying the house, but that plan flew out the window quicker than it came in because I had no job and minimal savings to be able to afford it. Besides, I didn’t want to stay here, living next to the conniving man who had lied to me.
Only one thing was for sure: I had to make sure Wally wouldn’t sell this house to my family. There had to be something he could do to avoid them getting their slimy fingers on it.
I moped around the house with these thoughts spiraling through my head all weekend, getting more depressed by the minute. Then, on Monday I noticed a basket on my front porch. It was filled with apples and coffee. At first, I debated bringing it back to Brenton’s, leaving it on his doorstep to show how angry I still was at him. But, it was the nicest thing that had happened to me in over a week, so I brought it in and brewed myself a cup of Brenton’s coffee immediately. I peeled the apples and let them soak in cinnamon milk for the day, the first step in my apple crumble recipe.
I went about my day, crying and pouting, only to find another basket that evening. This time there was a note inviting me to dinner with him and his daughter. My immediate thought was to reject the invitation. There was radio silence from Brenton for over a week, and before that he hadn’t even tried to mention that he had a daughter. Now all of a sudden he wanted me to get to know her? Unbelievable.
I debated how I was going to respond to Brenton all evening. I went back and forth between saying no, saying yes just to yell at him the moment I arrived, and not responding at all. Brenton deserved to squirm a bit, but who was I kidding? I had absolutely nothing going for me right now and something in me still pulled me to him. It was infuriating but hard to ignore. Maybe this dinner would pull me out of the rut I had been in or at the very least it would allow me to say goodbye to Brenton before I left. I went to bed debating my options.
My emotions got the best of me the next morning when I saw Samson running the fenceline. I quickly wrote my note and called Samson over. I spent the rest of my day packing up my belongings in boxes and getting ready for dinner.
I arrived at Brenton’s a little after 7, opting to knock on the front door rather than just go back to the patio like I had in the past. After a few moments, the door opened and I was met by a stony stare.
“Um, hi. We didn’t get properly introduced before. I’m Hel—”
“I know who you are. I’ve heard plenty.”
The girl walked away, leaving the door open. I just stared for a moment, not entirely sure what had just happened. I stepped in slowly, searching for Brenton. I walked back towards the patio and found him stationed in front of the grill.
“Hi,” he greeted me.
“Hi.”
“Did Candace let you in?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Where’d she go?”
“No clue. She disappeared rather quickly.”
“Hm, alright.”
I made my way to Brenton’s side by the grill, not knowing what to say. I twiddled with my thumbs until he spoke again.
“I hope she wasn’t too rude to you. She’s peak teenager right now.”
“She was fine.”
“So—” I began just as he began speaking.
“Oh, sorry. You go first,” he said.
“I was just going to say that I brought dessert.” I held up my apple crumble.
“Awesome, thank you.”
“No problem. I made it from the apples you gave me.”
“Even better.”
“What were you going to say?” I asked him.