knowing how Dan’s mind worked, they’d list airtight arguments for staying. Next would come the trial. But, still, the triplets would stand their ground. And all through this, they’d continue living in my house.
Just thinking of this exhausted me. It would take forever, not to mention the stress. Hell, I could even imagine them filing a personal injury lawsuit and suing me for emotional distress—by letting them live in their childhood home and then mercilessly kicking them out.
I wanted my life back. My house, my car. The triplets sat like young royals on thrones in my castle. They had all the power.
Meanwhile, there was the added problem of the buried money. What was I meant to do?
Maybe, with all their snooping around, they’d even found it by now.
Forty-Seven
With Pippa still out shopping, I wandered downstairs to the kitchen, and Beanie eagerly followed me. He needed to go out. That was something Pippa had been taking care of all this time. She’d walked and fed him. Had showed herself to be a real friend.
My heart drummed against my ribs at the thought of opening the back door, let alone going outside with the dog. Kate or Dan could be lurking behind a bush and come out and grab me. But if I simply let Beanie out without a lead, he might run off. Pippa’s house was set back from the road but wasn’t wild like Cliffside. The road was pretty close, her driveway short.
Pulse-pounding decisions.
Beanie whimpered and spurred me into action. I was done with them ruling my life. I clipped on the leash Pippa had kindly bought him, which was hanging on a coat rail, and, leaving the kitchen door ajar and checking the latch to make sure I wouldn’t lock myself out, I braced myself for a little walk in Pippa’s garden. Beanie lifted his leg immediately on a nearby rosebush. The second he had finished, I pulled him back inside. I locked the door behind me again.
Not knowing what to do next, not even what to think next, I picked up the phone and dialed a number I knew by heart.
My poor mother hadn’t heard from me in weeks. I owed her a call.
“Mum,” I said, eyes misting, throat lumping. My mother and I had little in common, and she’d hardly treated me with kid gloves when I was growing up, but she was still my mum. I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear and filled the kettle. Perhaps a cup of tea would help me think straight.
“Darling, I’ve been worried silly about you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Why did you change your number without telling me?”
“I didn’t, Mum.”
“Every time I called, they told me it was the wrong number!”
“Who did you speak to?”
“Whom, darling, whom. I spoke to different people every time I rang. Sometimes a young man, other times his wife, sometimes the daughter. And your mobile number always goes to voicemail. I left so many messages. I’ve been watching the Big Sur floods and landslides on the news and was beside myself with worry, although I knew you must be all right.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Mum. So sorry I didn’t call, I was really sick with flu.”
“Anyway, I did call the police and they promised they’d send someone from Highway Patrol to pay you a visit.”
I almost laughed. There was no way, with bridges collapsing and trees falling down with these wild floods the police would have time to venture all the way down my driveway and check on little old me. They had more important stuff to do.
“That was sweet of you, Mum, but you needn’t have worried. I’m staying with my friend Pippa till the bad weather gets better. I’m closer to civilization here. It’s safer.”
“Well you should’ve let me know that, darling! Ahead of time. Selfish, stupid girl.”
“I had a terrible flu, Mum, that’s why I didn’t call. Was out like a light, so sorry I was too ill to call.”
“Not ill enough to waste your time on Facebook.”
“What do you mean? Since when have you been using Facebook, Mum?”
“It’s fun, I’ve reconnected with so many friends, made new ones. It’s no good liking my posts, darling, sending stupid hearts and smiley faces without actually getting in touch.”
“But I didn’t—” I stopped myself, realizing that of course my phone wasn’t “lost.” The triplets had stolen it and were sending my mum bloody hearts and smiley faces! I almost wanted to laugh. I changed the subject. “Anyway, I’m thinking of selling