Free 1503951243 by Laurel Saville

the dog, two cats, and a parakeet had died in the fire, she added, but thankfully the bastard shot himself in his truck in the driveway while the trailer burned.
    “The one thing he did right in his whole life,” Tiffany said as she grabbed a tray and left the room.

    Miranda got a real estate agent and put the Connecticut house on the market. It sold quickly, above the asking price, but her father had taken out a large second mortgage on the place and invested the resulting proceeds poorly, so after the taxes and Realtor’s fees, Miranda was left with a sum that seemed to be missing a couple of zeroes at the end of it. Between these funds, the proceeds from a life insurance policy, the much-reduced assets in her father’s once-hefty investment portfolio, and his Social Security due to her mother, Miranda and Warren were able to pay off some back debts, settle a couple of lawsuits, provide her mother adequate care, and put $75,000 into an account for herself. She accurately saw this as a sum that would merely buy her a bit of time to get settled, and then provide a buffer as she found her way into some sort of a modest job and new life. When she tried to imagine what that new life might look like, she could conjure only the image of an empty blackboard, smudged with the recent erasure of whatever guidance might have recently been scribbled there. She told herself, and Warren told her, too, to just focus on the tasks at hand. The rest would sort itself out soon enough.
    The log home seemed beyond salvage. The expenses to get it up to code would be too great. It could no longer be lived in, but it likely would not sell with all its encumbrances. There were plenty of other places in the area rich people could buy that were just as pretty and a lot less burdened. Fortunately, since a bank would never have loaned money for a property like that, her father had paid cash. It was debt free. Miranda could just walk away from it. Dix helped her close it up. He drained water lines, sold the mower, tractor, and her father’s lightly used tools. They took a few truckloads of furniture, clothes, books, and other items to Goodwill. Anything of value went into a storage unit while Miranda “sorted herself out.”
    When the day came for the final walkthrough, Miranda watched Dix survey the grounds, check doors, locks, and faucets, sweep the garage and barn. She didn’t cry. She had no tears left. She knew Dix was also watching her, careful and gentle with his gaze, and she felt swaddled by the snug pressure of his attention. She reached over and squeezed his arm. His limb felt to her like a young tree with the bark stripped off. She knew he was concerned for her. She didn’t allow herself to take it too personally. She knew he always cared for things that were broken, and she accepted that she fell into this category.
    “I’ll be OK,” she said, trying for a smile.
    “Where will you live?” he asked.
    “I’m renting a little place in town.”
    “The Lewises’ house?”
    “Yes.”
    She had gotten used to Dix knowing things. She had stopped wondering how he knew so much and yet told so little. They stood in the yard in the late-afternoon stillness. A raven croaked from somewhere overhead, a desolate sound that somehow became companionable when another answered. A chipmunk ran under the porch. Miranda noticed that light was low. The days were short. Summer had come and gone without her noticing. The leaves had bloomed with color, faded to brown, and fallen to the ground. Snowflakes blew through the air. She shivered. Dix removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders. She shrugged herself into it gratefully.
    “It’s like a graveyard,” Miranda said.
    “Yes,” Dix answered. “A peaceful place full of memories.”
    “Funny, that’s not how I think of a graveyard. More like a place filled with ghosts.”
    Dix nodded slowly.
    “I got some good news from Warren,” she said, scuffing a toe in the dirt.
    Dix lifted his