Page 54 of Falls From Grace
As she was blow drying, her phone rang again. Brynn steeled herself to answer it.
“Hi Mom.”
“Hi darling. How’s Nashville?”
“I’m actually back in LA.” Brynn swallowed, feeling lower than low. “Things didn’t work out.” She stared at herself in the mirror, telling herself she could cope, that she was more than her mother’s estimation of her.
“Oh.” There was silence down the line. “I’m sorry to hear that. You’ll have another opportunity though, if it’s what you truly want to pursue.”
“Thanks… Mom.” Brynn’s reflection looked somewhat startled.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks though.” Was her mom dying? “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I was just calling to see if I could entice you home for Christmas, after all. The whole family will be there and we’d love it if you’d join us.”
Brynn paused. Christmas with her family was never her favorite time of year. It wasn’t exactly that her siblings bragged, they were simply confident and successful doctors, just like their family wanted. Not to mention with picture perfect spouses and children. And it wasn’t that her parents nagged her… no, it actually really was that they nagged her. Another year of Brynn sitting around the table, feeling like a failure.
And yet, couch surfing alone in LA, heartbroken with a bottle of whisky calling her name?
“Sure, that sounds great. I’ll drive up and see you on Christmas Eve.” Jesus, if she had enough money left for fuel for a twelve-hour return trip to Palo Alto.
“Don’t be silly, darling, I’ll book it now and send you your flight details.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Her parents had enough money, they’d barely notice the cost of a fare, but it still rankled to accept their support; she was supposed to be a damn adult. After she’d dropped out of med school, her parents had retaliated by insisting she repay them the college fees they’d covered for her, in full. It had hurt in more ways than one, but this weird reversal felt strangely even lower. She wondered if her parents paid for things routinely with her siblings or if it was just her. She told herself to be grateful for their generosity. She needed to save every penny she could while she had no income coming in.
After she hung up with her mother, another anxiety hit her. Her mom and dad, grandma, her two siblings and their spouses, two nephews and a niece. She had to buy gifts. Last time she’d checked her bank account she had around $350 left to her name. She was just hoping to keep herself in food and fuel until she got a new job. Feeling nauseated, she opened her banking app.
She blinked at the screen. The balance now read $20,346.50. A business named SG Domestic had deposited $20,000 into her account yesterday afternoon. She remembered Lane’s weird comment about money and scratched the back of her neck again and searched her contacts.
“Chester?” She reached him. She heard a guitar and the kick of a drum in the background, and she wondered with a pang if he was in the same room as Savannah.
“Hello, Ms. Marshall,” he said neatly, walking away from the music, and Brynn let her head fall back for a moment. She wasn’t imagining his tone as he called her by her real name. “What can I do for you?”
“Did… did someone put money in my bank account?” she asked, feeling very uneasy.
“Oh good, it arrived,” he noted. “No problems then?”
“Um, yeah, one. What the hell’s it for?”
“It’s your back pay,” he said, like it was obvious. “For the nannying job. Savannah said to make sure you got paid for all your work.”
Brynn sat down with a thump.
“Well, I don’t want it,” she said roughly.
“I’m afraid that’s no concern of mine,” Chester said politely. “I just pay the bills, and Savannah’s instructions were quite clear.”
Brynn swallowed. She had been relegated to Savannah’s paid staff. Ex-staff.
“What kind of nanny earns 20K for a couple of months' work?” she asked, still reeling.
“A valued one,” Chester said shortly, “as I think is clearly evident.”
She was mulling over the meaning of that statement and just about to hang up when Chester spoke up again.
“You should probably get used to it, Ms. Marshall.” His voice was a fraction warmer. “The album’s on its way. You co-wrote what looks to be a smash-hit with a major recording artist; the royalties on that are nothing to be sneezed at. Merry Christmas.”
