“The longer you allow yourself to stagnate, the more difficult you will find it to get rid of these things.”
“I’m not stagnating.”
“You still have that wretched wedding dress, like some modern-day Miss Havisham, and I will not stand idly by while you rot and further waste your—”
“I helped solve a murder last month!” Saga exploded.
It was difficult for Audrey to decide which to address first: the impropriety of shouting or the absurdity of the statement. At a loss, she chose the latter. “You what?”
Saga’s face was a dissertation on the dangerous side effects of a hot temper when attempting to keep a secret. She had never been very skilled at keeping secrets, ever since she was a child. She rather resembled that child now, eyes averted, fidgeting with her sleeves, still in her pajamas—even her ridiculous pink hair was childish.
The memory of that child was a hazy one, and it fizzled against the cold reality that Saga was not a child. She was a few years shy of thirty and trying to sabotage her own life as if it were a parlor game she was no longer enjoying. “Saga.”
“I was a medical consultant on a murder case for one of Reza’s colleagues,” she said quickly.
To say she was pleased would be going too far, but Audrey finally found herself outside the vicinity of disappointment. This was a real profession. This was something worthy of her daughter’s mind, her talent. This was something that would secure her future. It would keep her safe. “Indeed? So you haven’t given up on medicine then.”
Saga hesitated. She was always hesitating. Had she been born this uncertain?
It was difficult to say where she had picked up that trait. Certainly not from Audrey. Or Saoirse. She couldn’t even blame it on Saga’s father. She could scarcely remember his face, but his lack of hesitation in all things, she remembered—though she did not like to dwell on the few fragments of Viggo Trygg that lingered in the corners of her mind. “I am relieved to hear it. Forensics is a useful field of study. I know a few of the best coroners in the country that would take you on for your second foundation year.”
“I didn’t say I was going to finish.” Saga began digging through one of the boxes, picking up the useless tchotchkes and replacing them on the shelves.
It was Audrey’s turn to sigh, knowing all the progress she had made was about to be undone. “Then help me understand what you are saying.”
“I’m feeling things out,” came Saga’s vague, unsatisfying, and decidedly stubborn answer. She pulled out a picture frame, her brow furrowing in that predictably disappointed manner that it always did before she’d turn a look on Audrey like a wounded animal. “Why were you throwing this out?”
It might have been meant to be a family portrait, but whomever had taken the photo had the skill of a drunken monkey. The image was out of focus and off-kilter. “Because that is what you do with garbage, Saga.”
“Isn’t this you and Dad on the end? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of you together. When was this taken?”
“It’s nothing, Saga,” Audrey insisted. “If you want to keep it, then do so. Keep the nugatory knickknacks, the terrible photograph, and the notebook full of your grandmother’s rambling nonsense.” She was starting to get a migraine.
“What notebook full of nonsense?” But she was already digging into the box until she found it. She flipped through a few pages before clutching it to her chest like it was something precious, rather than mad notations about spells and goddesses.
Her mother’s dedication to superstition had always given Audrey pause.
“Mom, tell me you haven’t actually thrown anything out yet.”
Audrey rubbed her temples. “I have not taken anything from the room yet.”
“I want your key back.”
Audrey cut her eyes to meet Saga’s, daring her to repeat herself. Though it meant Saga was digging her heels into her wallowing further, it was, at least, a definitive statement.
The younger woman raised her chin. “Mamó2 left the house to me.”
“So you can let it become a museum? A place you’ll haunt from time to time when you’re feeling sentimental?” Surely her daughter could see how ridiculous she was being and how unhealthy this behavior was, if not how unproductive?
“If I wish. Per her will, it is mine to do with as I see fit.”
If Audrey pressed too hard, she would be seen as cruel, and Saga would close herself off entirely like a woodlouse until Audrey gave up and went away. “It would be imprudent to keep a property in this neighborhood just to let it decay. I can help you navigate the paperwork. My firm often deals with issues of estate.”
“When I decide what I want to do, and if I need your assistance, I will let you know.”
Audrey clung to her patience. “Surely, you have some idea of what you want to do with the place.”
Saga took another stalling breath. “I have a self-defense class in about an hour, so perhaps we should continue this discussion another time?”
