Not Our Summer by Casie Bazay (best ebook reader for ubuntu .TXT) 📕

“I trust that your trips have been going well?”

“Sure, sure. They’ve been great. I’m ready for the next one.”

“Oh good. That’s what I was calling about.” He pauses as if he expects me to say something else.

“Okay,” I prompt.

“So your last letter mentioned that you and Rebecka would be driving, and that’s what I needed to speak with you about.”

“Yeah, about that, I don’t have a car, and my mom needs hers for work and stuff.”

“I understand. Listen, this wasn’t spelled out in the will, but your grandfather set aside some extra money for the purchase of a vehicle for this trip.”

“Okay…”

“So I took the liberty to go ahead and purchase one. It’s a Honda Accord, about ten years old, but it’s tagged and ready to go. I had it temporarily insured and added both you and Rebecka as drivers.”

“You did?” I glance at Mom, who’s watching me with full interest now.

“I need to get the vehicle to you somehow. Would you and your mother be able to come pick it up?”

I pull the phone away from my ear for a moment, looking at Mom. “Can we go pick up a car?”

Her eyes widen. “Sure.”

“Alrighty,” I tell Mr. Sisco. “We can do that.”

“Seven-thirty, okay? At my office?”

“That works. See you then.”

After hanging up, I look back at Mom. This is unbelievable. “Grandpa and his never-ending flow of cash… I don’t get it.”

Her eyes crinkle around the edges and she gives a little laugh. “Me either.” Dog-earing her book, she places it on the coffee table beside her. “So who gets to keep this car?”

“He didn’t say, but it’s probably just for the trip.”

Mom’s lips pinch up, but I can see the wheels spinning in her head, and I’d bet all of Grandpa’s money that she’s already trying to work out a way to keep the car for herself. She stands and then disappears down the hallway. “How about we grab something at Dee Dee’s Drive-In on the way?” she calls.

This must be cause for celebration in her mind, and I’ll take it. “Sounds good to me.”

Roughly a half hour and two orders of perfectly greasy fries and breaded chicken tenders later, we pull in to Mr. Sisco’s office, a few minutes before seven-thirty.

“That must be it,” I say, pointing to a silver Honda parked a few spaces down.

Mom’s eyes have gone wide again, like she’s spotted a hundred-dollar bill on the ground and no one’s around to claim it. “Ooh, it’s really nice.”

We both hop out to inspect the car. The outside is in near-perfect condition. The doors are locked, but we peek inside the windows. The interior is super clean, and a strawberry-shaped air freshener hangs from the rearview mirror.

“This looks great,” Mom says. “Plus, Hondas are so reliable. It’s a good choice for your trip and it probably won’t break down on you like my car does all the time.”

“I hope not.” I move around to the other side of the car, still taking it all in. “I wonder why he called us and not Becka and RaeLynn to come get it?”

A devilish gleam shines in Mom’s eyes. “I’m sure there’s a good reason.”

We both look up as the low rumble of another car approaches. Mr. Sisco waves from behind the wheel of a black BMW. No surprise that he’d have a car worth more than everything we own put together.

He steps out and comes to shake our hands. “So here she is, ladies. I hope you approve.”

Mom grins. “Definitely, thank you for calling us.”

Mr. Sisco looks slightly baffled for a moment, but then fishes a set of keys out of his pocket. “Well, it’s what Mr. Walker wanted. He left instructions for the two of you to pick it up.”

Mom gives me a knowing glance.

Then he hands the keys to me. “Have a look inside. The insurance papers are in the glove box, and there’s a manual if you have questions about how anything works. The guy at the dealership said this car only had one owner, and it’s been well taken care of as you can see.”

Mom laughs. “It looks practically new!”

Mr. Sisco pushes his hands into the pockets of his tan slacks. “I hope it works well for your trip, but let me know if you have any issues with it.”

Mom slides into the driver’s seat, folding her hands over the steering wheel. “Thank you so much, Mr. Sisco.”

I walk around to the passenger side and climb in, the scent of fake strawberries filling my nostrils. A million times better than rotten bologna. “Wow—it really is in perfect condition.”

Mom pokes her head out the still-open door and looks at Mr. Sisco. “So what are the girls supposed to do with it after the trip?”

“Your father left instructions for that in another letter. It’s in the glove box, too.”

Mom rubs her hands together, looking positively giddy. “I knew it!”

“Have a nice evening,” he says with a wave. “And call me if you need anything.” Then he climbs into his car and drives away.

“Get the letter out,” Mom says.

I pull open the glove box, finding the envelope right away. “It’s addressed to me.”

“Read it aloud, then.”

“All right.” I pull the two pieces of folded, mint-colored paper from the envelope and clear my throat.

CHAPTER 17ELI

Katherine,

It most likely hasn’t been long since you read my last letter, but this one I’m writing specifically to you. Yes, it’s fine if your mom reads it, too. It wouldn’t surprise me if she were reading over your shoulder right now, in fact.

I know your life hasn’t been easy. You and your mother have struggled financially, and there were many times when I was overcome with guilt, knowing this, especially when I had the means to help and didn’t. Well, that’s not entirely true. I have helped your mother out on several occasions (just ask her), but I was trying to save my money with the