Chapter 1
Cassy
All the way from the train station, I couldn’t help dreading the nightmare looming ahead. I knew it was going to be bad, but looking out the window at the tree-lined streets, the picture-perfect families walking their dogs, and those little neighborhood shops made me want to turn back at once.
“You’re going to love it here, Cassy,” Aunt Ellen said with a smile. “This town hasn’t changed much since the last time you were here.”
I bet, I thought sarcastically as I gave the old woman my best “good girl” smile. I had to be on my best behavior if I ever wanted to get back to the city and to my life.
“You probably don’t remember,” she continued as she drove the old beat-up hatchback. “You were only a little girl then, perhaps around six. After that, your dad got so busy building his empire in the city he never got to visit his hometown again.”
“Yeah, well, Mom doesn’t like this place much,” I said without thinking. “It’s too, uh, backward and slow-moving for her.”
“I’m guessing you take after her,” Aunt Ellen answered, glancing at me.
I shrugged. “What can I say? I thrive in the city.”
She actually leaned toward me and squeezed my hand. “You’ll get used to Burchnell, Cassy.”
I sure hope not, I replied silently as the narrow street we were on widened and stretched into a gravel road in between fields and farms. There were actual barns with haystacks and animals in this area, plus a couple of old trucks and tractors. As for people, I could probably count those that I saw on my fingers.
Sighing, I turned to check out the person whom I was expected to spend the rest of the year with--- Dad’s old maid sister. Aunt Ellen seemed nice enough with her long blonde hair in a classic bun, a friendly twinkle in her blue-green eyes, and a dimple on one cheek. She actually resembled my dad a lot and seemed to look like me too, except that I’d probably be wearing Chanel and Gucci at that age with my hair done in a salon and maybe even a tattoo at the back of my neck.
The vision made me want to laugh, but it also reminded me of all the beautiful clothes and shoes I’d left behind at home. I brought some, though, but they weren’t going to be enough.
Looking down at my cracked pink nail polish, I suddenly wondered if there was even a decent nail salon in this place where I could have a manicure done. That little thought made me feel shitty all over again. Dad sure knew how to punish me.
As we pulled up into the driveway of a two-story countryside home in rustic beige and blue, with flowers all around and a spacious patio that even had a cozy swinging couch, a tinge of hope seemed to glimmer somewhere within my heart. The artist in me seemed to have been stirred. I had to admit that the house was very pretty and well-kept, sort of like a scene straight out of a rural home décor magazine.
“Cassy, I know you’re going to have a lot of adjusting to do,” Aunt Ellen began as I followed her into the house, hauling my Louis Vuitton luggage behind me. “But you must know that there are rules to follow here.”
Here goes the lecture. I simply nodded, though it was difficult to maintain the “good girl” smile plastered on my face the entire time. “I’m very tired, Aunt Ellen,” I said. “Can you please show me my room first before we have the, uh, orientation?”
Mom would have given me an exasperated look. But to my surprise, Aunt Ellen gave me a sweet smile and said, “Of course, my dear.”
Grateful, I went after her to the second floor where all the bedrooms were located. I was given a rather large room facing the road (not that there was anything interesting to see out there), with a wooden four-poster bed, a huge closet, an old school dresser, and walls covered in cream paper with tiny yellow flowers. Not bad, I thought, nodding.
I lugged my stuff inside, wanting to be left alone for a while. That was when I saw an old sewing machine sitting by the window. It wasn’t ancient yet, but the model was probably older than I am. Nevertheless, it would surely be useful for the project I was planning on doing while cooped up in this town.
Aunt Ellen immediately noticed that I was scrutinizing the machine. “You know, this used to be your Aunt Sherry’s room. We both loved to sew back then. But if you don’t want it here, I can transfer it to the other room.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I quickly said. “I mean, I think it suits the overall interior design.”
I was actually surprised to discover that dad’s sisters had been fond of sewing. Perhaps I got the talent from them. However, I wasn’t ready to let anyone know just yet that I was into that sort of thing.
“All right,” Aunt Ellen said. “I’ll leave you to unpack and rest while I prepare lunch. We can talk about the rules and your chores later.”
Chores? Ugh. I wanted to dig a hole in the backyard and hide in there until the year was over. And it was only the first quarter.
Once the old woman was gone, I got my phone out and was about to call my best friend Charlene when it rang first. It was my dad.
“Hey, Dad,” I greeted. “I’m in the hellhole now. You win.”
“Cassy, this isn’t a contest or an argument,” he told me in a stern voice. “I care about you, and I don’t want you wasting your life partying and mingling with all the wrong people. You’re too smart and talented for that, okay? You just need to straighten out your act and learn to take responsibility. And unless you prove to me that you’ve outgrown your overspending and partying habits and are finally ready to become a real grown-up, then you’re going to keep staying there.”
He really meant business. I could tell by the way he spoke. This time, he wasn’t going to be sweet-talked by his one and only daughter. I guess I’d gone overboard and he was finally fed up.
“Okay,” I answered. “But what about my daily expenses? Do I even get an allowance?”
“I’ve given Ellen allowance for your food. That’s it. She’ll be paying you for the work you help her do in the farm, so you better do it if you want any money. And if you want more, then it’s time for you to get a job.”
“A job!” I couldn’t help saying with a tone of disgust. Jobs are for lowly people who don’t have a penchant for adventure. I couldn’t imagine myself being employed and answering to a boss!
“You’re twenty-five, Cassy, not twelve,” he pointed out. “You graduated from an ivy league school, which is kind of a miracle, given the amount of partying you did. Do you know how many others would die to have that credential on their resume?”
“No,” I answered flatly, just wanting to annoy him further.
I heard him sigh impatiently. “If you keep this attitude up, you’re going to be stuck there forever.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “You’re right. And just to let you know, I was actually part of the top 20% of my class. I can get a great, high-paying job in the city! Just let me go back and I’ll even rent my own place and prove to you I can make it on my own---“
“Too late for that,” he said, cutting me off. “You should have done that after college instead of using up all of my credit cards for nonsense parties, clothes, and vacations.”
“Right.” Suddenly, I felt so down I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. This was all too real now. I didn’t have the energy to argue anymore.
“You have the remaining year to prove to me you can be a responsible grown-up there in Burchnell,” Dad said in a firm, quiet voice. “Then maybe you’ll have your chance to build a good life here.”
“I thought you wanted to train me to run our IT business,” I muttered, getting a little desperate. “Isn’t that why you let me take that course at the university?”
“Yes, but you don’t seem to have what it takes to run this business,” he said outright. Ouch.
I could feel tears of frustration and anger welling up in my eyes. I tightened my heart and forced them back. I didn’t want to feel defeated.
“I’d offered you a job in our company, Cassy, but you didn’t want to take it,” he reminded me. “You didn’t want to work your way up and learn the ropes like I did. Now you’re on your own. Prove me wrong.”
“Bye, Dad,” was all I said before hanging up. I stared at my phone for a long time after that, my head spinning and my heart aching. A tear rolled down my cheek, and I hastily brushed it away.
I couldn’t even log into my Facebook account and post about the pretend vacation I had gone on. My father had let me bring my smartphone at least, minus the Internet. I had loaded the memory with movies and e-books instead. Plus I had my music and memories to keep me company too.
Somewhere outside, a dog began to bark and a tractor roared to life. Hello, boring existence. Hello, rural Cassy.