It’s been two days since I’ve seen anyone, including my father. He’s disappeared. I asked Eloise this morning if she knew where he was and she shook her head, leaving me alone with my breakfast. He has to show his face today. I can’t imagine he’s still grieving over Grandma. I was closer with her than he was the last few years.

It all started when my mother died. He withdrew from everyone, including me. Grandma never approved of my mother, but I didn’t know that until after she passed. I overheard a conversation between her and my father after the funeral.

“She’s better off, Michael. She can’t hurt you or Madison anymore. I never understood why you stayed with her this long to begin with. You should have seen this coming.” Grandma’s voice was soft and caring. Her words were anything but.

“You didn’t know her like I did, Mother. She was a good person. I loved her and she loved me. Why can’t you accept the fact that we were happy?” I could hear my father gasping for air between each word, attempting to restrain himself from crying.

“If she was happy, if she loved you, she wouldn’t have taken her own life. She would have fought harder to get better. For you, and for Madison.”

I walked away at the mention of my name. I loved my mother. She had her good days. I don’t remember them as clearly as I remember her bad ones. Depression is a disease. Some people are able to fight it with drugs or willpower, and overcome. Others, like my mother, only see one way the suffering can end.

I still miss her. It’s been five years and my father still can’t talk about her. We have no pictures of her in our house. It’s as if she never existed at all. His heart is still broken, and now with Grandma passing, I’m not sure what his mental state is.

My plan was to talk to him today. I want to stay here. I’ve already told him this, and he agreed to request a transfer, but that was the last I’d heard. Did he get the transfer? Are we going back to California? I have to register for school if we’re staying, and that would need to happen soon. I think classes start in a few week.

We meet with Grandma’s lawyer tomorrow and he’s going to read her will. I already know most of what it says. Grandma was open about what she was leaving me. Not that it matters right now. I’d trade it all to have her back.

My plane ticket, for our return flight tomorrow, is where I left it on my dresser—if I need to use it. I pray that my father took me seriously when I said that I wanted to stay. I know his job has to take priority, so I try not to ask for much. This is the first time I’ve asked to stay anywhere. This is something I want. I want to be here. I feel close to Grandma here.

I hope he understands that.

A knock on the door startles me. “Come in,” I call. It can only be one of two people. Eloise or my father.

“Your father would like to speak with you in the den, Miss Madison,” Eloise says, her voice muffled by the door.

“Thank you, Eloise. Please let him know that I will be down shortly.” I wait for a response, but no other words are spoken.

Eloise has been with my grandmother since she built the house. I’m hoping that my father has made her an offer to stay. To some, she may be the maid. To me, she’s a friend. My only friend right now. We barely speak, or rather Eloise barely speaks, but she’s here.

My plan for today is to go into town, check out some of the shops and pick up a few things. I need some new clothes before I start school—wherever that may be—and a few personal items. We’ve been here for almost a month, and I’ve been rotating the same five outfits. Before I head out, I stop in to see my father.

He looks distressed. His head is propped up with his hand, his elbow resting on the desk, and he’s reading from a stack of papers. Judging by the look on his face, he’s displeased with what they say.

“You wanted to see me?” I don’t bother to say hello. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, and now that I know he’s here, I’d rather not be.

“Yes,” he states without looking up. “There is a set of keys in the dish on the table in the foyer. I’ve purchased you a car. The moving truck will be here tomorrow morning. Please make sure you are available. They will need to know where things go. I’ll meet you at Mr. Finch’s office for the reading of Mother’s will. If there’s time after that, we need to get you registered for classes.”

It’s as if he was reading a checklist as he spoke. No emotion. Just the facts. He bought me a car. We need to do this. I need to do that.

“Thank you. I’m going into town. Do you need anything?” I don’t know why I offer. He wouldn’t have done the same. I’ve been shopping for myself, alone, since Mother died.

“No. Please drive carefully.” You can hear the finality of the conversation in his voice. I have been dismissed.

A brand new, shiny, white convertible is sitting in the driveway with the top down. It’s beautiful, but not my style. If my father paid attention to me in the slightest he would know that. This is the kind of car my mother would have liked. The black SUV with the tinted windows sitting next to it, my father’s vehicle I’m guessing, is more my style. My taste in cars is one of the only things I got from my father.

The fifteen-minute walk takes less than five minutes by car. As I turn onto the main street that runs through downtown I begin searching for a place to park. Downtown seems busy for a Monday morning. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. There are people milling about, couples my age walking hand in hand down the sidewalk, business men in suits talking on their cell phones.

I see a parking spot up ahead and pull in easily. Parallel parking has never been my strength. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had to parallel park.

I’ve parked in front of a pharmacy, how convenient. A bell rings above my head as I open the door, and a female voice from across the room hollers “hello” as I enter. I turn to find the source of the voice, but can’t locate anyone.

Grabbing a basket, I start my hunt for the basics. If my stuff is going to be arriving tomorrow, I won’t need much. I grab a few necessities for the shower, some deodorant, and a toothbrush. When I head to pay, I find the source of the voice that welcomed me when I walked in. She can’t be more that fourteen or fifteen years old, and it appears that she is running the store. After thanking her I drop my bag in the car and start down the sidewalk in search of a clothing store.

The next block has exactly what I’m looking for. A thrift store catches my eye right away, two racks of clothing sitting on the sidewalk out front with no one attending them.

There are a couple of girls looking through the racks and I join them. I pull a button-down shirt and a zip-up hoodie off the rack. Fall is going to be arriving in a few months and it’s been years since I’ve lived somewhere that celebrates the changing of the seasons. I’m going to need to invest in warmer clothing.

After looking at every item on the racks, I make my way inside the store and stop dead in my tracks when I spot the cutest pair of cowboy boots I’ve ever seen. One of the girls that were outside holds them in her hands. The look on her face tells me that she’s debating whether or not to buy them. She pulls the price tag from inside the boot and flips it over. That made her decision for her. The boots go back on the rack she pulled them from and the girls make their way past me and out the front door.

Trying to act natural, I walk over and pick up the boots she was just holding. I close my eyes and hope they’re my size. I could care less about the price, or the fact that someone else has worn them before me—they broke them in.

Size seven. Perfect!

Taking a seat on the bench behind me, I lay the clothes I’ve already picked up next to me and slip off my sandal. I look around for a bootie to slip over my foot, but I don’t see any. Hoping the boots have been sanitized, I slip my foot in one and then the other. As I stand, a smile breaks out across my face. They fit perfectly.

Gathering all my items, I slip my sandals back on. I’m loving this store already and there’s so much more to check out. Aisle by aisle my hands grow fuller, my arms burning from the weight. By the time I finally make myself head to the cash register, the pain is almost unbearable. The girl behind the counter has been watching me for the last twenty minutes trying to carry all my items without dropping them. She’s still smirking at me as I place everything on the counter in front of her.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” Her words are laced with humor. She knows damn well that I tried to pick up a few things that I couldn’t handle with my arms full.

“I found plenty for today, thank you,” I reply, pleased with myself.

“Not from around here?” she asks as she begins scanning tags and folding clothes. Why is everyone asking me that question? “It’s the accent that gave you away.”

“What accent?”

“Exactly.” She giggles to herself as she keeps scanning my items.

“Did you just move to town?”

“Yeah. Actually, my stuff won’t be here until tomorrow so I needed to pick up a few things in the meantime,” I say, gesturing to the pile growing smaller by the second.

“Just a few things?” she asks, raising her eyebrow suspiciously.

“For now.”

She finishes ringing up my items and takes my credit card. She studies the card for a few minutes and then asks for my I.D. before handing it back along with the four bags of items that I just purchased. I thank her for her help and make my way out of the store and back to my car.

As I load the bags in the backseat, I contemplate my next move. I have nowhere to be, no one to meet. My afternoon is completely open, but I have no idea what I want to do with it. I scan the surrounding stores and spot a bookstore down the block. Perfect.

After locking the car, I cross the street and make my way through a crowd of people my age and into a coffee shop. I order and wait patiently for my cappuccino. Once they call my name, I push through the crowd again and head toward the bookstore.

I swear I hear someone call my name, so I stop and scan my surroundings. I take in all the faces, but no one is looking in my direction. Not recognizing anyone, I turn and continue down the sidewalk. Scanning the sidewalk for anyone familiar one last time before I walk through the front door of the bookstore, I cause another bell to ring as I enter.

* * *

The sun is about to set and my feet are finally starting to feel a little relief. I’ve been sitting in the gazebo for the last hour, resting and reading after walking around town for the entire day. I ended up buying a handful of books, snagging another coffee, and heading into another clothing store. I now have an entirely new wardrobe for fall. I bought a dozen new shirts, four pairs of pants, two pairs of shoes, the cowboy boots, and two new purses. Not to mention the copious amounts of accessories I bought. Hair pieces, jewelry, scarfs, and so many other things. I spent enough money that my father may actually have a conversation with me about the limit on my credit card.

None of that matters right now. All I’m thinking about right now is the fact that I’m sitting in our spot, mine and Grandma’s, and I’m about to watch the most beautiful sunset. You would think that with as many of them as I’ve seen over the years I might tire of watching them, but I don’t. No two have ever been the same. No two have ever made me feel the same.

My phone alerts me to a text message just as the sun sinks behind the horizon. I wait a few beats, enjoying the beautiful sight in front of me before I dig my phone out of my purse. It’s from my father.

You missed dinner. Please reply and let me know you’re safe.

I shake my head at his formality. I know that he wasn’t always this way. There was a time when he was more personable, a time when he was fun. He used to be an energetic, upbeat, and happy person. That part of him died with my mother. Since her suicide, he’s serious and everything is treated as if it’s a business transaction. Even his dealings with me.

I’m sure this makes him better at his job. I’m sure the Marine Corps don’t mind he is completely focused on them and the job he’s been trained to do. There are times when it doesn’t bother me, either. Most of the time, though, I wish he would ease up, pull the stick out of his ass, and wrap me in a bear hug like he used to.

Those days are gone, I’m certain.

I reply that I am on my way home before packing up my things and heading back toward town where I left my car.

When I arrive home, my father is nowhere to be found. Go figure.

It takes two trips to get all my bags inside and up to my room. Just as I’m about to close my door, Eloise appears with a plate of piping hot food in one hand, the steam rising and fogging up her glasses, and a diet soda in the other.

“Thank you so much. That was very kind of you,” I say sincerely as I take the plate and soda from her. Eloise smiles at me and then disappears down the hall toward her room.

I eat silently in my room, my back propped against the frame of my bed and the television on for background noise. Alone. Again. Grandma wouldn’t be happy about this situation. She wouldn’t like the fact that I’ve seen my father for less than five minutes since her funeral.

What Grandma didn’t realize is that this is how things normally are between us. The only difference between the last few days and any normal day… dinner time. We’ve always eaten dinner together, just the two of us. If my father had to work, he would come home, eat dinner and then go back to work.

I’m not sure why things have changed. Maybe this is his way of dealing with the loss of Grandma. Maybe he needs to be alone. Maybe this is how things are going to be from here on out.

I crawl into bed and close my eyes as I talk to Grandma. I tell her about my day today, all the things I discovered and the sunset. I do my best to describe it in detail; the colors as they blended together, the exact moment the sun hit the horizon, and that brief second before the darkness took over—that’s my favorite part.

There’s a loud banging on my bedroom door. I roll over to see that it’s a little after seven in the morning. I’m not sure what Eloise needs this early, but apparently, it’s urgent. She’s knocking again.

I pull the door open, to find a beefy, tattooed hottie standing on the other side. He looks nothing like Eloise. My mouth drops open for a second before I’m able to compose myself.

“Can I help you?” I ask as I cross my arms over my chest, remembering that I didn’t bother to put on a bra before answering the door.

“Madison Thompson.”

“Yes.”

“I’m Nathan with National Movers. The lady downstairs said that you would be helping us unload this morning.”

Damn it. I can’t believe they’re here already. “Yes. Give me just a moment and then I’ll be down.”

I close the door before he can respond. Rushing around my room, I pull a new shirt from one bag, pants from another, and my cowboy boots from a third bag. After freshening up and brushing my teeth, I head down the stairs to find three other men waiting with Nathan, each slightly less attractive than him.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t ready when you arrived. My father neglected to mention that you would be arriving this early. Where would you like to start?” I direct my question to Nathan who seems pleased with the outfit I’ve picked out. His eyes are wandering the length of my body.

“We’ll bring in everything. We’ll just need you to tell us where each room is. You won’t have to lift a finger.” Nathan’s eyes meet mine as he finishes his sentence, a devious grin appearing on his face. Is he flirting with me?

For the next hour, I sit in the foyer and sip coffee, pointing the burly men in the direction of each room they need. They’re quick, and before I know it, Nathan is shaking my hand and wishing me well. His demeanor changed halfway through the unload. He went from flirty to all business in the blink of an eye.

I stand in the foyer and watch as the truck pulls down the driveway. A feeling of sadness washes over me for a fleeting moment. I push it down and ignore it the best I can. Aside from the girl at the thrift store, I hadn’t talked to anyone as much as I did those four men for the last hour and they were paid to talk to me. I can’t wait for school to start. At least then I’ll be around other people.

Leaving my room in chaos, I head into town to meet with Mr. Finch and my father. It shouldn’t take long to read Grandma’s will. After all, aside from the Foundation, my father should be getting everything.

Oh, how wrong I can be sometimes. Two hours after my father arrived, we are finally leaving. Grandma left me more than she let on. The Foundation, her home here in New Bern, a trust fund, and a college fund. My father got money but nothing else of real value. It’s as if Grandma didn’t want to leave him anything. She even gave some of her money to a few of the women that work at the Foundation.

I can tell that my father isn’t happy. He hasn’t said a word since the lawyer pulled the papers out for him to sign. Since I’m not eighteen for a few more months, my father had to sign off on my inheritance to make it legal. I’d be a little pissed off if I were him too. He was her only child, and she left him practically nothing of what she worked her entire life building.

There were conditions that I had to agree to before my inheritance can be mine. First, I need to enroll in college. Since I have a few weeks before school starts I’m going to go on the trip that Grandma and I planned. I have meetings still set up with a few of the colleges, according to Mr. Finch. He’ll be handling all the payments for my tuition so I need to report back to him when I select a school and get accepted.

The next condition was simple. I need to stay involved with the Foundation until I graduate from college. Grandma wants me to be involved in all the decision-making, but she’s left a woman by the name of Lucy in charge until I meet the final condition.

Last, I must graduate from college in order to take my position as the head of the Foundation. I don’t see this being a problem at all, for I’ve always enjoyed helping Grandma at the Foundation when I’ve come to visit. Seeing how rewarding her work was, I’m excited to be a part of it. I can only hope that I fill her shoes with grace and dignity when the time comes.