“When my grandfather asked me to stay the whole summer at Lake Wisteria, was he specific about how long?”
“I don’t recall off the top of my head. Would you like me to check the will?”
“Yes, please.”
“Give me a moment.” Papers rustle and Leo breathes heavily into the microphone, his confirmatory noise only adding to the growing tension in my shoulders.
“One hundred and twenty days.”
Shit.
“Is there any way of getting around that?” My molars smash together.
He only grumbles to himself.
That can’t be good.
“What’s the rush?” he asks. “You only have a month left.”
“I need to check myself into rehab next week.”
“Rehab?” His voice perks up. It’s a strange way to react to someone who clearly has an issue with alcohol, but Leo was always a weird guy. That’s why he and my grandfather got along so damn well.
“Yes. I have a place lined up in Arizona, but the will is holding me back from going.”
More papers shift in the background. “I see.”
“Well, I can’t, so do you mind sharing?” I shut my eyes and take a deep breath to calm my fraying nerves. Without any alcohol to take the edge off this conversation, I’m stuck facing my anxiety head-on.
Lovely.
“Your grandfather was willing to adjust the time period on one condition.”
“Let me guess: If I go to rehab.”
He laughs. “No.”
My shoulders slump. “Then what? Does he want me to take a breathalyzer test every day for the next however many days? Or maybe he wants me to be homebound with a babysitter?”
“Nothing quite that severe. All he said was the required four months at Lake Wisteria could be null and void if you earn a green chip.”
“A green chip?”
“From AA.”
My lips press together as I consider my two other times attending Alcoholics Anonymous. Green was a color I achieved yet lost not long after.
My grip around the phone tightens. “And you didn’t think to tell me this before I moved in?”
“I wasn’t at liberty to say unless you came to me first regarding sobriety. Your grandfather emphasized the importance of you making this choice on your own, so he didn’t want you to feel enticed to get sober for an inheritance.”
I close my eyes to stop the world from spinning around me.
Leo clears his throat. “Your grandfather already chose an AA program for you as well.”
My laugh comes out forced. “Of course he did.”
The motherfucker set me up.