It was hard to imagine me happy under those circumstances.
"Have you told Jack?" I asked.
Brooke shook her head. "I wanted to discuss it with you first," she said. "Tomorrow's going to be really rough at school, and you might decide you don't want to stay."
Which, of course, was what Brooke wanted. Not for the kids at school to be horrible, but for me to decide I'd be happier someplace where no one knew about Budge and me.
I could see her point. But no matter what, I'd be finishing my junior year at Westbridge, and by next year there'd be a whole other scandal for kids to be interested in.
Brooke had to know that. She was asking me so she could feel better about herself. If I said no, she shouldn't give up USC, she'd never have to tell Jack and risk his saying that's what she should do. Because it would destroy Brooke if he said that. She'd see it as proof that he did love me more than her.
I looked at Brooke the way I'd looked at Alyssa the other night. Alyssa wasn't just a spoiled selfish kid for me to hate. Brooke wasn't just a golden girl for me to idolize.
They were people. They were my sisters.
"Go to USC," I said.
"Do you mean it?" Brooke asked, and I could see her trying to hide the relief she was feeling.
I glanced at Crystal's pin, remembered the sensation of pricking my finger with it. The pin didn't belong to me. The house didn't belong to me. Even my family—Jack, Brooke, Alyssa—were loaners.
"I mean it," I said.
Brooke ran to where I was sitting and hugged me. I loved her then, for taking the gamble that I might say yes. If I had, I knew she would have gone through with it.
"I'll make it up to you," she said. "I don't know how, but I will."
"It's okay," I said. "Just come to my adoption party. Wherever it is."
Brooke nodded. "I'll be there," she said. "I'll be the happiest person there."
Twenty-Six
I DREADED GOING BACK to school, but on Monday I had no choice.
I knew what to expect, but I didn't know how it would feel. There are kids in school everyone knows—the popular kids, the star athletes, the high achievers. Everyone knows Brooke, who's all of those things and more.
But I fit in the shadows. Everyone likes me well enough, but no one really thinks about me. I sing in the choir. I try out for school plays, and sometimes I get a small part. I have a solid B average, and a solid B place in school. I'm Willa Coffey to those kids who know me, and Brooke McDougal's stepsister to everyone who knows her.
But now I was Dwayne Coffey's daughter.
I reminded myself I'd been Dwayne Coffey's daughter back in Pryor, and if I made it through that, I could make it through a school day. But there I'd had Faye to protect me, and Trace, and even Granny Coffey.
With Lauren gone, I only had Brooke. And we didn't have any classes together.
It wasn't like the other kids said anything, at least not to my face. It was more that sense of interrupting conversations you know are about you. My friends were the worst, because they had no idea what to say to me. I could see it in their eyes, hear it in their mumbling words of welcome. They asked if I was okay, but that was where they stopped, as though they didn't know if condolences were in order (my father had died, after all) or if it was better to pretend the past two weeks hadn't happened.
I felt like I was covered in mud and everybody was walking around me very carefully to keep from getting dirty.
Just a couple of boys were deliberately mean to me. I was in the lunch line, and I bumped into Ryan Mitchell, who was standing right ahead of me. He turned to complain and saw who I was.
"It's Killer Coffey," Ryan said. "I'm scared."
Some of the kids laughed.
"Watch out," Kyle Webber said. "She's got a knife." He play-acted cutting Ryan's head off, and the kids laughed even harder.
I didn't know what to do. I couldn't make a joke of it, not after seeing the blood Crystal and my sisters had shed. But I didn't dare start crying, because I was certain if I did, I'd never stop. And I was surrounded by kids in the line, so I couldn't drop the tray and run.
"Leave her alone," Derreck Sanders said. I know Derreck from choir. He has a pitch-pure baritone. He also weighs close to three hundred pounds and plays left tackle. The last I'd heard, he was deciding between Ohio State and Juilliard.
"It was just a joke," Ryan said.
"You're the joke," Derreck said.
I handed my tray to Derreck. "Excuse me," I said, and managed to walk away. I spent the rest of the lunch period in the girls' room, hiding in one of the stalls.
I wasn't hungry anyway.
There was a choir rehearsal after school that day. I thought about skipping it, but if Mom was home when I got there, she'd ask why I wasn't still at school.
Besides, the great thing about choir was I could always lose myself in it. I was one of many sopranos, a small part of a beautiful whole.
Mrs. Chen saw me when I walked in and asked me how I was doing.
"Fine, thank you," I said, which was what I'd said to all my teachers when they'd asked. It seemed to be what they wanted to hear.
We rehearsed the different songs we'd be singing for the recital, the seniors shining on their solos.
Then we got to "Simple Gifts," and it was my turn to shine. I loved my solo, and it was a big one too: all three stanzas alone, with the choir joining in for the choruses.
I wanted to sing, but I didn't dare. Mrs. Chen had a hard and fast rule that if you missed three practices in a row, you lost your solo. And I'd missed three.
The silence felt so strange, after all the singing. No one picked up on my solo.
"We're waiting for you, Willa," Mrs. Chen said.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I figured you reassigned the solo."
"They wouldn't let me," Mrs. Chen said, gesturing to the choir. "They handed me a petition last practice, insisting you keep it. Everyone in the choir signed it."
"Except me," Derreck said. "My father taught me never to sign anything without a lawyer." He grinned. "I owe you one, Willa."
"Not anymore," I said.
"If you're ready, Willa," Mrs. Chen said.
And I was ready. " 'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free," I sang, and for the first time in weeks, I knew what I was doing and where I was supposed to be.
Twenty-Seven
I WAS IN MY ROOM Tuesday night when the phone rang. I was supposed to be catching up on my schoolwork, but I was fantasizing instead. Ever since I'd e-mailed Uncle Martin, I'd been giving a great deal of thought to his cult. I pictured it like a spa, with happy, fulfilled movie stars. Uncle Martin was their resident taxidermist, although I hadn't figured out yet why they would need one.
Everyone was home. Mom was back from her evening class, Alyssa from her tennis practice, Brooke from her orchestra rehearsal. Jack didn't work on Tuesdays.
It was Alyssa who yelled, "Willa, it's for you."
"Who is it?" I yelled back.
"I don't know," she said. "It's some man. He says it's important."
I hoped it was Trace. I hadn't heard from him since I'd left Pryor. I'd given him my cell number, but he could have asked Faye for the home phone.
I went to the den and took the phone from Alyssa. "Willa? This is Sam Whalen, from Pryor."
"Oh, hi, Sam," I said. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, it is," he said. "But something's come up and I need to talk to you about it."
It's the pin, I thought. Crystals family wants the pin back.
"Okay," I said.
I sensed some hesitation on Sam's part. "You're my client," he said, "but you're also a minor, and what I need to discuss with you is very important. Would you object to putting your mother on the phone?"
Its just a pin, I thought. And I don't mind giving it back. "All right," I said. "Should Jack get on too?"
"If you're comfortable with it," Sam said. "It might be better that way."
I gestured to Alys
sa and told her to tell Mom and Jack to get on the phone. She ran downstairs, and I could hear them picking up.
"Hi, Sam," Mom said. "Is Faye there?"
"No, she's gone for the day," Sam said. "And as it happens, she doesn't know anything about this. Willa, remember when you were in the office, how we talked about inheritance? How anything Crystal had would pass to Krissi and from Krissi to you?"
"There's nothing to inherit," I said. "I was at the house. There wasn't anything there."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Whalen," Jack said. "But there's no way Willa can accept any inheritance. However small."
"Mr. McDougal, that's not for you to decide," Sam said. "It's Willa's decision to make."
"What am I deciding?" I asked. "The house is a rental. I told Trace he could take Budge's guitar." I remembered the jewelry Trace thought he was slipping past me, but it was hard to believe any of that had value.
"It's not that simple, Willa," Sam said. "I got a phone call yesterday from Mitch Hamlin."
"I remember Mitch," Mom said. "His sister and I were friends."
"Mitch sells insurance now," Sam said. "He got a call from his home office. It seems Crystal had a life insurance policy she bought down in Center City. Her daughters were beneficiaries."
"Her daughters?" Mom asked. "Not Budge?"
"Not Budge," Sam said. "She took out the policy right after the twins were born. It could be she was afraid of Budge, what he might do to her. We'll never know. But Budge was never arrested for domestic violence, not with her or you or any of his kids, so there was no fraud. It was all perfectly legal, and the insurance company has to pay up. Mitch knew you and Faye were friends, so he guessed I might know who to contact about it."
"How much?" Mom asked.
"Crystal had two hundred and fifty thousand dollar policies for each of her little girls," Sam replied. "Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars total."
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars?" Mom said. "Willa inherits seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars?"
"That's obscene," Jack said. "Inheriting a fortune because of what Dwayne did. Willa's my daughter, every way but legally, and I can't let her accept money like that."
"Well, there's the rub," Sam said. "Every way but legally, Mr. McDougal. The law says the money is Willa's, so it's up to her to decide."
"What would happen if I refused it?" I asked. "Would Trace get it all?" I imagined him learning he was worth $750,000. That would buy him a lot of guitars and just maybe some peace of mind.
"Most likely he'd end up with nothing," Sam said. "I knew Dwayne wasn't married to Trace's momma, so I played a hunch and spent most of today tracking Mandy Sheldon down. She's living in Reno now. Turns out her parents put a lot of pressure on her to give Trace up for adoption and they instructed her to put 'Father Unknown' on the birth certificate, since they figured it would be easier that way. Only, like a lot of young girls, she took one look at her baby and refused to part with him. Biggest mistake she ever made in her life, she told me, and I gather she's made her share of them."
"But Budge is Trace's father," I said. "Everyone knows that."
"It doesn't matter what everybody knows," Sam said. "In the eyes of the law, you're Krissi's only surviving sibling. You stand to inherit everything."
"Could Trace sue?" Mom asked. "Wouldn't DNA testing prove paternity?"
"I'll tell you the truth, Terri," Sam said. "I've handled a few paternity cases in my day, but this is way past my area of expertise. What I do know is Trace would have to prove he and Krissi had the same father. He can't use any DNA samples from the house, because he's been staying there, so all that DNA is corrupted. Now, Dwayne and Krissi had autopsies, so some hospital has their tissue samples, but I don't know if DNA can be extracted from that. And even if it can be, it's not like Trace can walk into the hospital and demand access. Even if Willa turns the money down, Crystal's folks would most likely not allow Trace anywhere near Krissi's remains."
"They'd get the money?" I asked. "If I turn it down? Trace wouldn't get anything and they'd get it all?"
"Not without a fight," Sam said. "I'm sure there are lawyers who'd take Trace on as a client."
"So when Willa accepts, the money is all hers," Mom said. "She wouldn't have to share it with Trace or Crystal's family."
"Trace might sue and so might Crystal's family," Sam replied. "They might see it the way your husband sees it, that there's something wrong with Dwayne's daughter inheriting like that. And if they do feel that way, they can find a lawyer of their own to tell the courts that Crystal outlived all three of her daughters, which would make them the rightful heirs to the insurance money."
"I thought Krissi was alive when Budge took her," I said. "People saw them together in Ohio."
"It's easy enough to refute eyewitnesses," Sam said. "Autopsy results are tougher, and I hear the autopsy says Krissi died six to twelve hours before she was found in Budge's car. But if it comes to that, the Ballards can hire their own experts to prove otherwise. That's what experts are there for."
"So if Willa accepts the insurance money, she could end up in court for years," Jack said. "Trace suing her, the Ballards suing her."
"But Willa would win," Mom said. "And even with legal fees, she'd end up with hundreds of thousands of dollars. Isn't that right, Sam?"
"No one can guarantee what juries will do," Sam said. "But Willa certainly has a strong case. And there's always the option of an out-of-court settlement."
"Why should Willa settle?" Mom said. "She's the rightful heir. What happens next? Does the insurance company send her a check or does she have papers to sign?"
"Terri," Jack said. "You can't be serious about this. It's blood money."
"I don't care where the money came from," Mom said. "If Willa's entitled to it, then she should have it."
"I can see you folks have a lot to discuss," Sam said. "Keep in mind, though, this is Willa's decision. Willa, call me if you have any questions, or if you just want to talk."
"Thank you, Sam," I said. Or at least I think that's what I said. Because nothing felt real anymore, except the disgust in Jack's voice and the ecstasy in Mom's.
Twenty-Eight
"THAT CHANGES EVERYTHING," Mom said.
"What changes everything?" Alyssa asked. "What's going on?"
We were all in the den. Everyone had gravitated upstairs, to me, to the money. The den wasn't built for five people, and I couldn't remember a time when the five of us had been there at the same time.
"Nothing is changed," Jack said. "Willa can't possibly accept the money. You must see that, Terri. How morally wrong it would be."
"Morals have nothing to do with it," Mom said. "Money doesn't have morals. It's what you do with money that matters. And you can't tell me Willa would do something morally wrong."
"What money?" Brooke asked. "There's an inheritance?"
"Crystal had a life insurance policy," I said. "Her daughters were the beneficiaries, but since they're dead too, the money goes to me. Or maybe me and Trace. Or maybe Crystal's family. Or maybe lawyers if we all sue each other."
"How much money?" Alyssa asked. "Will you be rich, Willa?"
"I don't know," I said. "I guess. There's a quarter of a million for each girl."
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars?" Brooke asked. "Willa, you are rich."
"What are you going to buy?" Alyssa asked.
"Girls, please," Jack said. "I'm hoping Willa's learned something being part of this family and she'll turn the money down."
"Learned something?" Mom said. "You'd better believe Willa's learned something."
"Mom," I said. "Jack didn't mean anything—"
"Oh, no," she said. "We all know exactly what he means. He means it's fine for his daughters to have all the advantages money can give you. Private schools, dressage lessons, trips to Europe. But my daughter has to leave her home senior year, work her way through college, because Jack wants her to stay morally pure."
"We didn'
t ask for those things, Terri," Brooke said. "Mom gave them to us."
"Isn't that nice," Mom said. "You don't even have to ask. How thoughtful of Val to anticipate your every need."
"Terri," Jack said. "We don't talk about Val. Not in front of the girls."
"There's a lot we don't talk about, isn't there, Jack?" Mom said. "Because if we did talk about it, we'd have to see what we've done to Willa, expecting her not to talk about it either."
I looked at Mom, then at Jack. I'd seen her that angry before but I'd never seen Jack look that upset, that close to rage.
It was all about me, I knew. And there was nothing I could do to make things right again. I'd lose Jack if I accepted the money, Mom if I turned it down.
Brooke must have sensed my desperation. "I don't know if this will help," she said. "But I told Willa I'd take the North Carolina scholarship if she wants. That way you could afford to live here, at least until Willa graduates. And she could turn down the insurance money."
"Willa isn't turning down the money," Mom said. "If you loved her, if any of you loved her, you'd be rejoicing for her."
"We love her," Alyssa said, and she looked close to tears. "We love Willa and you, Terri."
"Terri knows that," Jack said. "And she knows taking the money could destroy Willa. It could destroy this family."
"What family?" Mom shouted. "Brooke? Alyssa? They can't wait to move out. You? You deserted us, Jack. You left us in a motel while Budge was on the loose. Me? I've never put Willa first. I've done what you wanted, what was best for your daughters. You call that a family? You call us a family?"
"We are a family," Brooke said, her voice quivering. "Willa's my sister, no matter what."
Mom didn't seem to hear her. "You remember Saturdays?" she asked Jack. "When the girls were little? You were always working, so it was up to me to get Alyssa to the club and Brooke to the riding academy. You know what Willa and I used to do? Sit in the car and wait. When Willa asked why she couldn't ride or play tennis, I'd have to explain how we didn't have the money, but wasn't it nice for the two of us to have some time together. Finally, I had the bright idea to ask you to take Willa with you to the ball games. You said yes, and Willa loved it. I've never seen her so happy. She was so happy that Brooke got jealous, so you took both of them with you. That was fine too. Willa loved spending time with Brooke. Do you remember all that, Jack? Is that part of your happy family memory?"