Free Goodnight June: A Novel by Sarah Jio Page A

little annoyed.
    “Oh,” she says, “Rand and I are at the airport. We’re going to Vegas for a few days.”
    Rand. I’m not sure if this is his actual name, or maybe it’s short for Randy or Randolph, or something like that. But I don’t ask.
    “Oh,” I say. Mom and I don’t have the best relationship (if you can even call it a relationship), but we do talk, in fits and spurts. She calls every couple of months, sends a card on my birthday and at Christmas. And that’s enough for me, though I suspect she’s less than satisfied with the arrangement. Still, I find I can handle her best in small doses. “Mom, I’m in Seattle.”
    “Seattle?” she asks. But this time, her usual carefree voice sounds concerned.
    “Yes,” I say.
    “Are you at Ruby’s?”
    “I am.”
    “Oh, June,” she says. “So you know—”
    “That she died, yes.”
    “I wanted to tell you, sweetie, I really did, but I—”
    “Just didn’t think to mention it?” I don’t even attempt to mask my annoyance.
    “June, don’t snap,” she says. “I was going to tell you, I—”
    “But you wanted to wait and let the attorney notify me?”
    “The attorney?”
    “Yes,” I say. “I received a certified letter. Ruby left me the bookstore, everything.”
    “Wow,” Mom says. I can’t tell if she’s upset or just surprised.
    “I’m here now, sorting through her belongings before I decide what to do.”
    “Will you sell it?” she says. “June, you couldn’t possibly—”
    “I don’t know, Mom. I mean, yes, I probably will. I can’t stay here. I have a job, a life in New York.” It isn’t much of a life, but I don’t have to explain that to Mom, especially when I’m trying to prove my point.
    “I could help,” she says, sounding suddenly desperate. “I think it needs to stay in the family. Amy does too.”
    I’m momentarily stunned, then I feel a surge of anger. I made Mom promise she wouldn’t bring up my sister’s name to me again. My cheeks burn. “What does she care about the bookstore?” I say. “What right does she have to tell me what to do with it? It’s my problem to solve.”
    “Honey, she loved Bluebird Books too, don’t forget.” Mom lowers her voice. “And she misses you terribly. You really should call her. She said she’s tried calling you. Isn’t it time to end this nonsense between you two? You’re sisters.”
    I think of Ruby and Lucille, Margaret and Roberta. I want to feel the way they did about their sisters. But the only way I know I can is if I could find a way to turn back the clock, to erase the hurt, the pain I endured.
    “No,” I finally say. “Mom, I have nothing more to say to Amy. You know that.”
    “People change, June. I wish you’d see that.”
    “No,” I say. “They don’t.”
    Mom’s quiet for a moment. “You did.”
    I’m stunned into silence.
    “Sometimes I think I don’t even know you anymore, June,” she continues. “New York has changed you. It’s hardened you.”
    I bite my lip. She doesn’t have the right to talk to me this way, to talk as if she knows me, or ever knew me.
    I hear a voice on the airport loudspeaker. “That’s our flight,” she says. “We’re boarding. I’ll be back in a few days. I’ll come by.”
    I want to say,
Don’t, I can handle it
, but I hold my tongue.
    “Good-bye, Mom,” I say instead. “Hope you win the jackpot.” And then I hit the End Call button with more intensity than usual.
    I feel anxious, the way I did when I left New York. I find the prescription bottle in my purse, swallow a pill, then pull open my laptop. For someone who habitually checks her e-mail every four minutes, I’m shocked when I realize how little I’ve thought about work since arriving in Seattle. I open my in-box and see that the messages have stacked up. There are several flagged with red, high-priority exclamation points, and I open the one at the top first. It’s from Arthur. I feel a pit in my stomach as I read the one-line