Chapter 4

Before my mother died, she left me the key to the old house. It was the only thing she'd left me — and my one permanent fallback if everything else fell apart.

Three years ago, I'd given that key to Julian for safekeeping. I texted him asking for it back, and it took a long time before he finally called.

"I used it for something. Don't be mad."

"What did you do?"

"Camille said she liked the location of the old house — wants to build a studio there. I gave her the key so she could take a look."

"What gives you the right to send her to my mother's house?"

"Just to look. If it works for her, she wants to buy it. She's offering a good price."

I didn't say anything to him. I called Camille directly.

"Give the key back."

She laughed on the other end. "Vera, what's the rush? I only went to look. Julian said the house is just sitting there empty anyway, so I might as well buy it."

"That's my house. Not his."

"You gave him the key, though. Legally speaking, that's authorization. But don't worry, I'm not actually interested in your house. Since Julian and I both happen to be here right now, you're welcome to come get it."

She hung up.

I caught the last bus of the night back to my hometown. The door of the old house stood open when I arrived, every light on inside. I walked in and found the place in ruins.

The walls had been torn open, the floorboards pried up, and the furniture dragged out into a heap in the courtyard. The art print my mother had pasted on the wall hung half-torn, dangling loose. The potted amaryllis I'd kept on the windowsill lay shattered on the floor, dirt scattered everywhere. It had been my mother's favorite plant — she'd made me promise to take care of it before she died.

I crouched down and started picking up the broken pieces, one by one.

Camille stood in the middle of the living room, Julian beside her.

"What gives you the right to tear my house apart?"

Camille leaned in closer to him. "Vera, this place is too run down. Julian and I talked it over — we're just helping you fix it up.

"Besides, is this house even under your name yet? Your mother passed, and you never finished the transfer, did you?"

She crouched down, pinched up a broken leaf of the amaryllis, and tossed it aside as she stood back up.

"The flowers your mother grew are just like you — pretty to look at, and completely useless."

I got to my feet, fury surging through me, and slapped her across the face before I could stop myself.

She staggered back, hand pressed to her cheek, and bumped into Julian, tears springing to her eyes instantly. Julian shoved me away, hard.

I stumbled and fell backward onto the concrete just outside the doorway. My palm scraped into a pile of loose gravel and started to bleed. My knee split open too.

He stood over Camille, shielding her, and looked down at me, his voice cold.

"What's wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? Why did you touch her? Take it out on me if you want.

Camille cried behind him, hands over her face.

I sat on the ground and looked up at him. My palm and knee throbbed, a fine, spreading pain that made my whole body shake. But watching him plant himself between me and Camille, I suddenly stopped feeling any of it.

I got up off the ground, looked at him once, and turned to walk away.

I bought a train ticket to a small town down south. As the train pulled out, the sky outside the window was just beginning to lighten. I leaned back against my seat and closed my eyes. All I could think of was my mother's hand in mine, on her deathbed, and the words she'd said.

Don't waste your life on someone who makes you wait.

The next day, when Julian showed up at my apartment, the door happened to be open, with the cleaning lady inside tidying up. He froze.

"Where's the tenant who lived here?"

"Moved out. Ended the lease yesterday."

He stood in the doorway and realized the apartment was already empty. A bag sat on the coffee table, holding most of the things he'd ever given me. He reached for it and found a note pinned to it. Just three words.

"Congratulations to you."

He clutched the note, and his hand began to shake.