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“A damn shame,” I breathe out.
The rest of the night is spent laughing, dancing, and reminiscing with all my friends and family. Syd and I even get up and sing with the band a couple times. There is nothing that could have made this night better. As the night ends, I get emotional telling everyone goodbye. After all I’ve been through in my life, the love that I feel from these people makes me believe that the good in this world far outweighs the bad. I wish my mom was here with me, but I know that she’s watching over me with a smile.
“She’d be so proud of you,” Amy says, reading my mind as she wraps her arms around my waist. We both stare up at the twinkling stars in the pitch-black sky.
“She’d be proud of you, too,” I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“When do y’all leave?”
“Monday morning.” Syd is helping me move my stuff to New York in Jeff’s SUV, and then he’s flying there in a week to drive back with her.
“I have to give you something so don’t let me forget tomorrow before you leave,” she says quietly still staring at the stars.
“Amy…” I hesitate. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes, sweetie. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s nothing bad.” She reassures me, slightly brushing my cheek with her hand. “Go, finish saying your goodbyes. I need to clean up a little.”
* * *
“Mmm… I’m going to miss your cooking,” I mumble with biscuits and gravy in my mouth. Amy laughs. I can’t cook worth a darn. I seriously burn water. Amy tried to teach me numerous times but finally gave up.
Thank goodness Syd is a great cook. Although, I’m not quite sure what I’m going to do in New York. I’ve never lived without a personal chef.
Amy takes a seat at the table, watching me eat. “I’m really going to miss you, Addie,” she says, smiling.
“Me, too. But this gives you a reason to come to New York City,” I say, grabbing her hand. “There is so much I want you to see there so don’t wait too long.”
“I won’t, sweetie. I’d love to come out. Maybe for Christmas? I’d love to see New York City then. Or Thanksgiving… for the Macy’s parade. Or New Year’s Eve,” she says excitedly.
“Probably not all in one year. You’d hate New York by then, but we’ll do them all.”
I finish eating my food and push off the table to stand up. Amy grabs my hand, stopping me. “Wait, you sit. I need to give you something. I’ll be right back.” She picks up my plate and drops it off in the sink on her way out of the kitchen. I think back to the day I thought she was giving me a car. I shake my head.
Boy, did I have that wrong.
The scraping of the chair pulls me from my thoughts as Amy sits down across from me. She’s smiling a genuine smile. I breathe a sigh of relief; my memory made me wonder if this was bad news again.
Amy fidgets with a manila envelope that she has laid on the table. I sense that she’s nervous but whatever it is it’s not bad. I tilt my head, lifting an eyebrow, waiting for her to start.
“Addie. Don’t be mad.” She laughs, taking a pause. She flicks up the corner of the envelope. The noise distracts me so I look from her hands to her face, back to her hands. Waiting.
“Spit it out, Amy,” I say, tapping my hand on the table.
“Okay, okay. When your mom died, her insurance policy left you a trust.” I nod, already knowing this because I received it on my eighteenth birthday. “You only received the first part.”
“I don’t understand.” I furrow my brows.
She slides me the envelope. Now it’s my turn to toy with the envelope. I look at the envelope and then to Amy. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I’m nervous as hell. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
When I was eighteen I received two hundred thousand dollars, which I still have over half that left. That is what I’m using to find a place in New York City. I also received a letter from my mom that she had written to me when she set up the trust. I had to stop taking it out and reading it so often because the paper was starting to thin and rip at the folds. After that, I laminated it to make sure it wouldn’t get ruined. The letter was the most important thing, much more than the money.
My breathing picks up. “Is there a letter?” My voice cracks as anticipation takes over my senses.
“Open it, sweetie,” she whispers.
I’m afraid.
I’m afraid there won’t be a letter.
