Page 113 of Road Trip
“Sometimes that’s not a bad thing. We had a great time in Ireland. Can’t you just leave it at that? We took the trip Mom wanted us to take, and got the answers we wanted…”
“And one of us met a super-fine guy…”
“Enough already,” Maeve said wearily. “We’re not living in one of your rom-com fairy tales. It’s reality time, Therese. We’re out of money. Neither of us has a job, or prospects, and yes, hopefully we’ll be able to sell the portrait soon, but we can’t count on that for income.”
“I can,” Therese said, arms crossed over her chest.
“Just navigate, okay? I don’t want to miss our turn for the rental car return and have to loop all the way around again because you’re in pout mode.”
“Whatever.”
Five minutes later, Therese’s cell phone rang. She glanced down at the caller ID and her mood brightened. “It’s Scotty. But also, you’re turning in two kilometers, whatever that means.”
She tapped Connect. “Hi, Scotty. What’s shakin’?”
“Therese, it’s great to hear your voice,” Scotty said. “How’s Ireland?”
“Awesome. We’re flying out for home first thing in the morning.”
“Perfect timing. I think I have some moderately good news for y’all.”
“Put him on speaker,” Maeve said.
“Okay, Scotty. I’m putting you on speaker because Maeve isdriving. What’s the story? Did somebody arrest Reverend Jerome and force him to give us back the money Mary Helen donated?”
“Hi, Maeve,” Scotty said. “I’m afraid the news isn’t that good. I did want to let you know that I was finally able to track down Arletha, the bank teller. She was staying in Jamaica, helping her sister recuperate from surgery, but she’s back in Savannah now. I’ve been driving past her house every day, leaving my business card. She finally called yesterday. I explained why we were reaching out to her, but she seemed pretty wary of me. I guess she doesn’t trust lawyers. Anyway, she did say she’d be willing to talk to y’all.”
“That’s great,” Maeve said. “One of us will call her as soon as we get back to Savannah. Have you heard anything from anyone at the bank, like Hoot Wooten?”
“Not a peep,” Scotty said. “Hoot’s definitely dodging my phone calls.”
“He won’t be able to dodge me,” Therese said. “I’m gonna march my ass right into that bank and demand answers. And if I have to cause a scene, well, that’s something I excel at.”
“Ask me how I know,” Maeve said.
“Whoops! Here’s the rental return exit,” Therese said. “Scotty, I’ll call you after I get home.”
“We’ll both call,” Maeve said. She was in the middle of changing lanes when her own phone, which was sitting in the car’s console, dinged with an incoming message.
“See what that is, okay? I don’t want to miss a text from the airline.”
“It’s from an international number,” Therese said, tapping on the bubble.
She glanced over at her sister. “Want me to read it?”
“Yeah.”
Hi Maeve. This is Angela Grogan. I meant to send you these photos earlier. Thought you might want theseto remember us by. Lovely meeting your sister, by the way. Fondly, A.
The first photo showed a pair of red-haired little boys, their faces smeared with chocolate. The second was of Maeve, with a little girl sitting on her lap, holding a kitten. The next photo was of a long picnic table littered with plates and platters of food, both sides filled with grinning adults and children, including Maeve, hamming it up for the camera. There was another, of what Therese assumed was Liam and another brother, arm-wrestling with family members cheering them on.
Therese described each photo as she tapped it, watching her sister’s face to gauge her reaction, which so far was Maeve’s version of feigned disinterest.
The last photo showed Maeve and Liam, standing in a bright green meadow. His arms were wound around Maeve’s waist. They were both smiling blissfully, their heads haloed in the late-afternoon sun.
“Oh my,” Therese said. “This one is frame-worthy.” She enlarged the photo and held it in front of her sister’s line of vision.
Maeve glanced at it, then back at the road.
