Free Anywhere But Here by Stephanie Hoffman McManus Page B

so much for her to make sure she got every chance she could to succeed.
    If only he’d fought as hard for himself.
    Or us.
    No, I couldn’t go there. It was a slippery slope.
    Trinity stuck around into the afternoon until I looked at the time and realized I had to get ready for my meeting. “I’m really glad you stopped by Trin. I have to meet a real estate agent at Didi’s shop and I still need to shower, but maybe we can grab coffee or lunch this week before I go back to New York.”
    She rose from the couch. “So you’re really selling the shop?”
    “Yeah. I don’t know the first thing about running a business, and I’ve got a life in New York.”
    “Of course.”
    I walked her to the door and we traded cell numbers so we could make plans during the week. Once she was gone, I intended to take a quick shower and get down to the shop a little early so I could dust and straighten up in case she wanted to take a few pictures. Once I was under the hot water, my quick shower stretched into almost half an hour. By the time I got out, I had to throw on the first things I found in my suitcase, do a half-assed blow out on my hair to keep it from dripping down my back and skip make-up entirely.
    I made it down to Fourth Ave with only minutes to spare. I kept my eyes away from the shop across the street, and did my best ten minute tidy up while I waited for Judy Parker. She was right on time and the meeting went quickly. She did snap a few pictures and then we went over property values and what I hoped to get out of the place.
    We went over a few other details and then she left me with a small stack of paperwork to fill out and return to her office as soon as possible. I let her know I could have it to her by the end of business today and then she was off to another appointment. We made plans for her to come by and see the house on Monday.
    I pulled up a stool behind the counter, letting my eyes linger on the few photos Didi had back there. The two of us in her back yard gardening. Me as a little girl on Papa’s lap. The three of us at the beach. And then one that had been taken at Papa’s sixtieth birthday, when Dad was still alive. The five of us were all there and smiling. I was standing in front of Daddy, he had his arms wrapped around my shoulders and my head was tipped back smiling up at him instead of the camera. Mom was leaning her head on his shoulder and Didi and Papa were holding hands at the end. It was one of the last times we were all together. It wasn’t even a year later that Dad died in the accident and everything changed.
    I searched around for something to tuck the pictures away in it to take with me, and I uncovered another one buried under some papers on a shelf under the counter. My heart clenched and I felt myself being sucked into the past as I stared at the photograph of him. I placed it in the small box I found and then laid the rest on top.
    It didn’t take long to skim through the paperwork and get everything signed. My phone rang just as I was scribbling out the last signature. Dropping the pen, I grabbed for my purse, cursing the size of it as I dug for my phone. It was a wasted effort when I saw who was calling. I had nothing to say to her. Not now. Not after years of enduring her silence, especially when I’d needed her most.
    Ignoring her calls every day last week had led to me missing the funeral. It was only on Thursday night that I finally caved and listened to one of the many voicemails she’d left. It was my own fault that I had to find out that way, and yet part of me still wanted to blame her. She’d caused this rift between us that had spread into an unbreachable chasm.
    She knew I was in town because I’d called her back Thursday night only to let her know that I would be coming down to take care of everything. Our conversation had gone no further. There was nothing left that she could have to say to me now, so I let it ring and ring until my voicemail picked it up.
    Needing