She Left Me in Traction, Then the Will Made Me Her Boss novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Boxes on the Lawn

Tobias reaches the carriage house on crutches and finds his life in boxes on the lawn; Hannah drives him away, and Marissa texts that she is nine weeks pregnant with Lyle's child.

I called the lawyer from the curb outside St. Anne's, balanced on two crutches.

An assistant answered and said he was in court until tomorrow morning.

"Tell him Tobias Carrow called," I said. "Tell him it's urgent."

"He left a note," she said. "Nine tomorrow, at his office. And he said to tell you not to sign anything anyone gives you before then."

"Too late for that one," I said. "I refused."

She was quiet for a second.

"Good," she said, and hung up.

I had forty dollars in my wallet, a phone at nine percent, and a cast I couldn't bend.

The carriage house behind the Carrow place on Prospect Avenue had been my home for six years.

It was the only place I could think of, so I took a cab there.

The driver helped me out of the back seat and stood looking at the lawn.

"Rough move?" he said.

Every box I owned was on the grass.

My books, my winter coat, the kitchen lamp, the framed photo of my grandfather and me on his boat.

One carton had tipped over, and my shirts were spilling out onto the wet grass.

I swung over to the carriage house door and put my key in the lock.

It didn't turn.

It was a new lock, brass, still shiny from the box.

"Tobias."

Celia stood on the main house porch in her charcoal coat with her silver cane, which she carries and doesn't lean on.

She had come out to watch.

"Mother," I said. "The lock on my door has been changed."

"The carriage house belongs to the company, and the company needs it." She came down two steps. "Lyle says you refused to sign a perfectly reasonable document this morning."

"He cancelled my health insurance yesterday."

"Policies get restructured," Celia said. "You are not the center of every decision."

I looked at the boxes.

"I'm in a cast to my hip."

"You are twenty-nine years old," she said. "Your grandfather was kind to you, and I allowed it. We took you in at nine. That was generous enough for one lifetime."

She had never said it plainly before.

I think she had always wanted to.

"Marissa and I were getting married in three weeks," I said.

"Marissa has come to her senses."

Behind me a car turned in at the gate, and the engine stopped.

Lyle got out of his black sedan with a folder under one arm.

He came across the gravel with his hand already out for mine.

"Tobias. Let's not do this in front of the neighbors."

"There's no one here but us."

"You'd be surprised who has windows." He held out the folder. "Notice to vacate company property. Thirty days, which is more than generous. I'd just like your signature on the receipt."

I looked at his hand with the folder in it.

Then I put both of mine back on the crutch grips.

"No."

"You'll sleep in your car, then?"

"I don't own a car," I said. "You sold it to the company in June for my own good."

That got a laugh from the cab driver, who was still standing by his door.

Lyle's smile went tight.

"Take your boxes, Tobias. Stop making a scene."

A grey Subaru came through the gate fast and stopped on the grass.

Hannah Brooks got out in scrubs and a cardigan, her glasses on their cord.

I had told her once, in a haze of painkillers, that I lived on Prospect Avenue.

She had found the house by the numbers on the discharge sheet.

She looked at me, then at the lawn, then at the lock.

She didn't ask a single question.

She opened her trunk, walked to the nearest box and carried it back.

"And you are?" Celia said.

"The surgeon," Hannah said. "He's still my patient. He can't lift anything."

"This is a family matter."

"Then your family is welcome to carry the boxes."

She picked up the tipped carton of shirts from the wet grass, one arm underneath it.

Nobody on that porch offered to help her.

The cab driver, who had a belly and a bad back, put down his cigarette and started loading the lamp.

"I'll get the books, doc," he said.

Lyle watched all of it.

When I turned around he was typing something into his phone.

He did not look worried.

Hannah and the driver filled her back seat and most of the trunk.

She opened the passenger door and waited while I got the cast in.

Celia was still on the porch.

She had not come down the steps once.

I didn't look back at the carriage house as we pulled out.

My phone buzzed against my leg, down to its last five percent.

It was a text from Marissa.

The first line was one I could read before the screen dimmed.

I'm thirteen weeks pregnant. It's his.

I did the arithmetic with my thumb pressed against my eyes.

Thirteen weeks ago was my grandfather's funeral.

That was the night Marissa said she was too tired to stay at my place and went home to the main house.

Hannah glanced across at me and drove on without a word.

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