“Very well, then.” My mother gets up but is interrupted by my brother yet again.
“A minute, Mom. Mr. Marlowe, there must be some way Hawthorne Estate can support Clem. My father did it for me when I was with the band.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Hawthorne, there are very clear statements from your father about this. After you left.” He rephrases, “I mean, after you went to work with the music band, it was Mrs. Hawthorne who purchased the house for you from her inheritance.”
Now, this is news to me. But I’m not really surprised. My mother’s disapproval and lack of confidence are exclusively for me.
“After that—” Mr. Marlowe chews on his lip, mulling on his words. “—incident, your father made it clear that in future if a Hawthorne decides to take the world on their own”—he shows most likely my father’s words to Oscar on the paper—“no family member can buy assets for him or her.” He looks at me with sad, affectionate eyes. “So, if Miss Clementine leaves Cherrywood next month, she is all on her own.”
“But next month is so soon.” Florence grasps the pinewood arms of her chair. “Shouldn’t she have some more time to think about all this new information?”
What’s wrong with my sister? She knows I have already started packing.
“Do you want more time?” Mom asks me and I shake my head.
Twenty-five years were enough.
“Clem, what are you doing?” my sister hisses under her breath.
“I am finally free, Flo,” I whisper back.
Thanks to my brother, my mother’s plan is smashed. I can use my family name once I’m settled in Vanshionista. I know it’ll make Gram happy, and that’s what matters to me. I can’t hold the happiness in my heart. I’m finally getting what I want.
“No. I don’t need any more time,” I tell my mother.
“Clem, think before you speak.” My brother shakes his head in resignation, as he used to do when I was a kid.
“I can find a house in a month.” I’m already thinking about the possibilities. What sort of house should I get?
“We cannot buy her assets, but we can support her, at least for a while?” My brother’s words interrupt my dream plans.
Mr. Marlowe thinks for a moment. “There is no rule against short-term support.”
The small smile that appears on his old, wrinkled face makes me happy.
To be honest, I have no interest in their discussion. I just want to leave Cherrywood. I don’t care about the inheritance. I have a full-paying job, for God’s sake. I’ll live like every other single woman in her twenties in St. Peppers. Free of the vanities of this mansion and out of my mother’s control. I can already see myself making friends in a café, sitting in parks in spring and fall.
“How long would you need such a support, Clementine?” my mother asks. My gaze skids from my brother to my sister, who shows me one finger under the table.
“A week,” I reply, and Oscar’s eyes widen. In surprise or anger? “A month,” I blurt.
“Settled. Mr. Marlowe, please create funds for Clementine for a month.”
Finally, Mr. Marlowe leaves, and he’s followed by Gram, Mom, and Oscar, who give me an irritated look before walking out of the room.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Florence bursts as soon as it’s just us.
“What?”
Why is she so upset? Everything went well, beyond well.
“God, Clem. Do you have any idea what you have gotten yourself into? What will you do now?”
“What do you mean? I have a month. I’ll find an apartment. I’m thinking of a penthouse suite, or should I go for a brownstone? Nah! I will have to hire too much staff for a brownstone. Penthouse suite is good. Me and my personal Mrs. Lurch.”
“As much as I love your optimism, Clem, I want you to work your ass off this month to find a place in St. Peppers, okay?”
“Why are you so worried? You were the one who signaled I should ask for a week’s support from Mom.”