Page 22 of Play Nice

“Tom,” Leda says, jaw clenched even more tightly than usual, an angry vein appearing on her forehead. She’s going to break something.

“I’ll go by and check it out. See what work needs to be done. What potential there is. I could spend time there over the summer. Paint, rip up carpet,” I say. “I’ll throw in some sweat equity, and then we can put it on the market in the fall. List it for way more. No one’s going to want to buy it as is, especially with its history.”

There’s a lull, and I notice the volume on the TV has been lowered and realize Dad and Amy are eavesdropping from the other room.

“You’re assuming it’s still in rough shape. Alexandra might have…” Daphne trails off.

“Might have what? You know she didn’t take care of that place,” I say. “She didn’t have the money, and she didn’t live there, and that wasn’t her thing.”

“You’re underestimating the amount of work it takes,” Leda says. “It’s not just about the cosmetic. It probably needs a new furnace. A new roof.”

“I’ll hire people to do that stuff,” I say, walking over to the fridge to get a seltzer.

Leda follows me. “It’s expensive.”

“I have money. I made five K off a single post last month. And besides, I’ll make it all back when the house sells,” I say, offering her the last can of lemon. She accepts it, and I take a cherry. “Daph, you want a fizzy?”

“No, thanks,” she says. “I mean, I agree you’re underestimating what it takes to flip a house.”

“See?” Leda asks, self-satisfied.

“But…” Daphne says, and Leda’s smugness suddenly disappears. “If you really want to do it, if you think you can, that’s your call. I have no objection to you trying.”

“Great,” Leda says, slamming her seltzer down on the table. “Thanks, Daffy.”

“What? She’s going to find one spider or spot of mold and immediately give up,” Daphne says.

“Hey!”

“Prove me wrong, then.”

Leda taps her nails on her can. “It’s so Alexandra to do something like this.”

“What? Die?” I ask, opening my seltzer and taking a sip. They all stare at me.

“No. Leave us with that house,” Leda says.

“That fucking house,” Daphne says.

“It’ll be money in the bank soon enough. Out of our lives for good. Forever.” I wave my hands like a magician after disappearing something into his sleeve.

My sisters exchange a look. Leda relents. “Okay.”

“Cool,” I say. “I’m going to go change into comfy cozies. You want to watch a movie?”

I don’t wait for them to answer because I know it’s a yes. I know they can’t say no to me.

—

Everyone sleeps in the next morning except for me. I set my alarm early, put on a pair of jeans and a vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt, find some old Adidas in my closet with the soles worn smooth. I also discover a hoodie that once belonged to some guy I hooked up with in high school, a band geek with good hair whose name I can’t remember. Sean? Scott? Sam?

The hoodie is big in just the right way and still smells like Axe. Makes me want to go to second base.

Last night, after a viewing of Thelma & Louise, I opened the little pouch from Roy to find one of my mother’s rings—chunky silver with a white stone. It’s beautiful, and I think it would fit, but I’m hesitant to wear it, considering there’s a nonzero chance she had it on when she died. I pretty much suspect that the contents of the pouch were all things taken out of her pockets or off her body while she still had one, prior to cremation. Also inside was a strange silver coin, some sage, a vial of clear liquid that I sincerely hope is holy water, and the key to a haunted house.

At least, I assume it’s the house key.

I grab the key, and the sage and holy water because why not? I put them in my purse along with my cell, then head downstairs wondering whose car I’ll “borrow.”