“Right now?” Harley was surprised.
“No time like the present,” Emma said succinctly. Another Mom-ism.
Harley looked happy. “Okay.”
“Wait. Maybe we should just try the bangs first?” Jamie suggested, seeing this was going to happen.
“I can do it,” Harley said again, a bit more belligerently, following after Emma.
Jamie couldn’t help glancing at the tabletop, unerringly finding the place where she’d carved her initials, JW, into the maple top. Mom had tried to sand them off, but even with her ministrations they were still visible. A stupid, childish whim that had caused one of their huge fights.
Emma said now, “It’s still there,” and Jamie looked up to realize her sister’s eyes had followed her gaze. “You should talk to Mom about it. It will make you feel better.”
Jamie’s pulse jumped, and she wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “Well, Mom isn’t here. . . .”
“Oh, yeah, she is.” She flung out an arm and pointed to the mantel. “There.”
A plain wooden box sat in center place.
“Are those . . . ?” Harley’s lips pressed into a grimace.
“Ashes.” Emma nodded importantly. “Mom went to the funeral place and signed up for it, so that she would be with us when we got together. She paid for it herself. The man told me.”
“The man?” Jamie asked.
“At the funeral place. He said she was in good hands. Theo agreed. She took me and Mom home and put Mom there. You should talk to her. It will make you feel better,” she said again.
“Well, that’s creepy,” said Harley, definitely put off.
“It’s not creepy,” said Jamie.
“Yes, it is!” her daughter disagreed. “Really creepy. I can’t even look that way. Where are your scissors? Do you have some?” she asked Emma, turning a cold shoulder toward the fireplace.
“I’m not supposed to use them. Mom said.”
“Could you just show me where they are?” Harley asked.
“Okay.”
Emma led Harley down the hallway to the downstairs bathroom. Jamie could hear the medicine cabinet open and shut, and then several drawers pulled out and slammed closed again. She wandered toward the wooden box, reaching a hand up, then closing her fist before she could touch its smooth sides. It wasn’t her mother. Her mother was gone. What remained were only ashes.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” said Jamie when Harley had Emma seated in one of the kitchen chairs, scissors in hand.
“Could you get that out of my sight?” Harley asked, half-turning away as Emma was facing the mantel with a full-on view of the box.
“We are supposed to spread her in the garden,” Emma said. “Theo said that’s what you’re supposed to do. Spread her out. Mom loved the garden, so we need to spread her out there. I was waiting for you.”
“Sooner the better,” muttered Harley. “And I think I’ll pass.”
“No. You come, too,” stated Emma.
Jamie could see her daughter’s expression even if Emma couldn’t, and she had to smother a smile, the first moment of levity she’d felt in a long time. Harley was horrified, but didn’t find it as easy to put off Emma as she could her mother.
“I’ll start getting things from the car.” Jamie headed away from the makeshift beauty shop.
“Can we get a dog, Mom?” Harley’s voice floated after her.
“No dog. Mom won’t allow it,” said Emma.
“We’ll see,” Jamie called back.
“Mom won’t allow it!” Emma stated more emphatically.
Well, Mom’s not here.
Jamie stepped into the cool October evening. She stood outside for a minute, inhaling the sweet, heady scent of the roses that lined the side of the detached garage and bobbed their heads toward the yard. They were almost over, the leaves nearly gone, the petals growing limp. She recognized the brilliant red of Mr. Lincolns, her mother’s favorite.
This experiment of stepping in and taking care of Emma was going to be . . . different. A challenge, for sure, but maybe also a taste of family for Harley in a way she’d never had before. Paul had been gone too long for Harley to remember him as anything but a dim figure, more lore than reality. Jamie wasn’t sure how long she planned to stay, but it didn’t look like Emma could really live by herself. She was compromised and always would be.
Heart heavy, Jamie hefted out several boxes and set them on the driveway, which was spiderwebbed with cracks. For all the beauty of the garden, the house and garage, the drive and walkways, all looked like they could really use a good handyman. A good handyman and a cheap one. Jamie wasn’t entirely sure what her mother’s finances were, but she’d been contacted by one Elgin DeGuerre, the lawyer Theo had mentioned, and undoubtedly he’d be able to clear things up.
Before she’d left LA, Jamie had gone online and learned what her requirements for teaching would be in Oregon, and was planning to get started right away. Tomorrow morning, she was registering Harley in school. That was priority one. Preliminary information had been filed, but the school needed to see both Jamie and Harley to admit her.
Paperwork and more paperwork. A lot to be done to resettle. Just thinking about it made Jamie tired and dispirited. What she could really use was a nice glass of wine, something crisp, clean, and dry. A glass of rosé, or Pinot Gris.
But not yet. There was still too much to do.
“Ta da!” Harley said, tossing her hands in Emma’s direction as Jamie came downstairs after her second trip to the car.
Emma’s bangs looked all right, good even, but one side of her shoulder-length hair was noticeably higher than the other. Jamie debated on what to say and decided to hell with the truth. “Looks good,” she stated brightly.
Harley regarded her suspiciously, then looked at Emma. Her face clouded. “It’s shitty.”
“Don’t swear,” Jamie and Emma said together, with Emma adding, “Why is it shitty?”
“It’s uneven. I might have to make it a little shorter on this side.” She pointed to the longer
