Page 3 of The Neighborly Thing To Do
“Call me when you’re ready to make plans, honey,” Mom continues. “I know change can be scary, but maybe it’s for the best. It’s time for you to stop putting your life on hold for other people. It’s time for you to finally get a chance to live.”
That fucking hits like a punch to the solar plexus, and I don’t know what to say. Thankfully, I don’t have to figure it out, because my phone beeps.
“I have another call. Gotta go,” I mutter, hanging up on her and accepting the other call without even a look. It’s either G or work, and I’d much rather talk to either of them than my mother right now.
“Cee!” Georgia squeals, voice too high and loud. I pull the phone away from my ear.
“Hey, kiddo,” I say, standing and running a hand through my hair. I need to get it together in more ways than one. I can’t let on to G that any of this is happening, and I need to look like a functional person when I go to work in thirty minutes.
I put G on speaker and walk to my bedroom, pulling out clothes as I ask her, “What’s up? First day okay?”
She laughs freely, then begins to tell me about the stupid team bonding activities they’re doing, which vaguely reminds me of my own seven months at college, except her and her new friends all have fucking magic to add to the messy equation.
I pull on clean-ish khakis and feel my shoulders loosen as G keeps talking. This, right here. This is why I can’t let this go yet.
Chapter 2
Finn
Idon’t like being up at barely after dawn, but sometimes, when inspiration strikes, I can’t get it to shut the fuck up and let me sleep.
I’m not one of those artists who is all woo-hoo, at the whims of fate or the universe or whatever. I’m pretty methodical in my work. Plan something, make it happen. Mess up and try again. It’s worked out well for me so far.
But sometimes, I wake out of a dead sleep knowing how to fix a problem and my brain can’t take no for an answer.
Which means I’m walking out of my apartment that’s over my workshop, ready to go downstairs and fix this sculpture, when I see Davies and a man I haven’t seen in a long time knocking on the door at the next house over.
I frown, checking my watch to be sure, but it’s way too early for a social visit. Not that Hugh Saunders should ever be a person socializing with Cassidy Prylor.
The one single time I’ve seen Hugh since the end of high school was the funeral a decade ago, and I can’t imagine why he’d be back now. He’d always been convinced he was too good for this place. My mother, who knows everything about everyone because she refuses to conform to the gargoyle stereotype of stoic silence like my father and I have, probably knows what he’s been up to, but I definitely don’t.
I flare my wings, a nervous gesture I can never quite shake. Must be nice to pass well enough as human to be able to wander around their world.
But none of this gets me any closer to knowing why the hell he’s here to bother Cassidy this early in the morning.
I rarely leave my property, but even I know Georgia just left for school. I saw Georgia and Cassidy shove a shocking number of boxes and bags into Cassidy’s tiny little car two nights ago, and the car was gone before I woke up yesterday morning. Why the hell are they bothering Cassidy today of all days? Doesn’t she deserve a rest?
I divert directions and stop walking toward the front door of the workshop, plans forgotten, and use a tree as partial cover to keep watching the proceedings. I can’t hear their voices from this distance, but I’m not exactly inconspicuous, and any closer and they’ll certainly spot me.
Cassidy lookspissed, but she also looks tired. I’m not close enough to make out fine details, but everything from her posture to her clothing says someone who’s in need of a long nap. And really, who could blame her? The woman raised a kid from eight to eighteen, all on her own, and she was barely out of childhood herself when she started it. She deserves the longest rest in human history.
Then she slams the door shut and the two left on her front step look around utterly lost for a minute. The sense of triumph I feel at that is both ridiculous and undeserved; it’s not like I did anything.
They eventually wander away, and something inside me eases when I see their backs. Whatever they want that pissed Cassidy off so badly, they’re not going to get it today.
I make my uneasy way back over to my workshop, determined to get something out of this morning. But, even though I keep reminding myself that what happened is none of my business, it won’t stop plaguing my mind.
I get some of my groove back as the morning wears on, and by the time noon rolls around I’m fully engrossed in work. This sculpture has already sold, sight unseen, which is pretty damn gratifying. I’m highly motivated to get it done and do my absolute best with it.
It’s interesting building a business when most customers can never see me. It was easier when my father started carving here in town, because eventually, everyone needs gravestones. He could build a whole business and never have to leave the supernatural community. But when I’d developed a passion for carving sculptures instead of graves, I couldn’t stay constrained to this small town. I’ve sold a few sculptures in our town borders or in other supernatural communities, but I’d never make a living that way. So now I sell sculptures primarily to humans via the internet, and I’m damn lucky that they like my work enough to buy it. Some of them even pay me obscene amounts of money for it.
I come to a natural stopping point some time around two, going back upstairs to my little apartment to try to put together a lunch.
And it’s only because my kitchen is a little light on lunch ingredients that I put my shoes on to go to the grocery store. No other reason. Certainly not because I know Cassidy will be there this afternoon, and not because I’m looking for answers.
I usually do my best to stay out of town gossip, despite my mother’s best efforts to drag me into it some days. I have no need to know who’s upset with who and what the romantic entanglements are, but I do want to know why Cassidy was pissed so early this morning.
Like everything in Hearthstone, the little market is close enough to fly to, so I take to the sky and land in front of the store within minutes.
