The Sisters Hemingway Read online

  It’s time to turn off my light so Mama and Daddy will think I’m asleep long before I go out to meet Will. He says he’s got a surprise for me. Anna says to be careful, but I know what I’m doing. I’m seventeen, after all, a whole six months older than her. Just so long as Rufus isn’t snooping around like he does sometimes, nobody will ever know. I’ll just have to tell Mama I ate the last slice of pie in the morning and remember to wash the plate and put it back before she comes downstairs. I might not get any sleep tonight, but it will be well worth it to see Will. Maybe Mama will be right, and the pie will make him see that I could be a good wife. I imagine what it’s like to be married to him all the time, but I don’t dare say a word. He says he will take me to the East Coast one day, and I believe him. Being in love is the best feeling in the world.

  Pfeiffer returned the journal to its hiding place. She wished she could stay upstairs all day and read it, but she knew that her sisters would come looking for her if she stayed too long. She couldn’t help but think that her aunt’s words would make a great book, and she wished, not for the first time, she still had her job at Henry Brothers. Slowly, so as not to disturb her sister in the bathroom, she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she was pleased to find that Hadley had thought to buy coffee the night before. Pfeiffer needed coffee like she’d never needed it before because the couch was proving to be a lumpy substitute for a bed. But she knew that if she slept upstairs in her old room with Hadley, she’d end up sharing a twin bed with Martha before the night was over, and her sister kicked like a mule. Pfeiffer preferred lumps to mules.

  As she busied herself finding a coffee mug that wasn’t cracked or dusty, a sharp knock came at the side door in the kitchen. Pfeiffer glanced around the room. Who would be knocking on their door so early? Old Crow was the only one who ever used the side door—at least, he always had been—and he had a tendency to come inside without so much as an invitation. Often, one of the sisters would find him sitting at the kitchen table when they came out of their bedrooms yawning and still in their nightgowns.

  At least this morning she was dressed.

  Pfeiffer opened the door a crack, surprised to find that it wasn’t Old Crow at all, but a spindly woman she’d never seen before with wisps of gray hair and a nose like a beak. Without waiting to be spoken to, the woman said, “You seen a dog around these parts?”

  “A what?” Pfeiffer asked.

  The woman squinted at her. “A dog, girl, a dog. I lost one a mine, been about two nights ago.”

  Pfeiffer’s eyes widened. The dog! She hadn’t even thought about it that morning. It had been, once again, sleeping beside the couch. As far as she knew, that’s still where it was.

  “She’s one a them basset hounds,” the woman continued. “She’s a tricolor. Got them long ears. Practically drags the ground with ’em.”

  “Actually—”

  “And she ain’t got a lick a sense,” the woman continued, interrupting Pfeiffer. “Follows her damn nose everywhere. Chews outta her pen. Keeps gettin’ out and havin’ a bunch a babies with one a our other dogs.”

  “Well—”

  “Somebody down the way said they seen her up this direction.”

  Pfeiffer wondered if the woman was ever going to let her finish a sentence. “She was here yesterday,” she said, letting her words run all together so that she could get them out. “She showed up again last night, scratching at the door until we let her inside.”

  The woman stepped back from the door. “You belong to Bea James?”

  Pfeiffer frowned. “She was my aunt.”

  “We moved here about ten years ago from down south,” the woman replied. “Took over my mother-in-law’s farm down the road. Past that boy Brody’s place. Bea told me ’bout her nieces. Didn’t get to go to the funeral. Too much work ta do on the farm.”

  “I’m sure my aunt would have understood,” Pfeiffer replied, one eye trained on the pie safe. “So do you want your dog?”

  “Had her down for coffee a few times,” the woman continued on, as if she’d never heard Pfeiffer. “Never invited me here, though.” She stepped forward again, sticking her head inside the kitchen. “Now I can see why.”

  “Do you want your dog?” Pfeiffer asked again. “She’s in the living room asleep.”

  “I reckon.” The woman sighed. “I figure I’ll give her to my brother-in-law. I was gonna shoot her, but she ain’t worth the bullet.”

  Pfeiffer took a step back from the door and from the woman. “You were going to shoot her?”

  “That’s what I was tryin’ ta do when she run off,” the woman said.

  “No wonder she ran away,” Pfeiffer replied, unable to hide the disgust from her voice.

  The woman made a move to come inside, but Pfeiffer blocked her with her foot. “No.”

  “What?”

  “No,” Pfeiffer repeated.

  “If you’ve got my dog, you best let me inside,” the woman replied, her upper lip curling into a menacing smile. “She’s my property.”

  As Pfeiffer was trying to think up a legitimate excuse for keeping the old woman’s dog, Hadley stepped up behind her.

  “What’s going on here?” Hadley wanted to know.

  “This woman wants her dog back,” Pfeiffer replied. “But she can’t have her.”

  “Why not?”

  “She tried to shoot her!” Pfeiffer exclaimed, pushing back on the door as the woman tried once again to come inside.

  “You best deal with me,” the woman said. “Or I’ll come back with my shotgun. Ain’t nobody have the right to keep my property.”

  Hadley stepped away from Pfeiffer and walked to the kitchen table, riffling through her purse. Slowly, she counted out two hundred dollars in twenty-dollar bills. “Here,” she said, shoving the money at the woman. “Now she’s my dog.”

  The woman clutched at the fistful of money, her expression caught between anger and amazement. “She ain’t worth this much.”

  “Just take it,” Hadley said.

  The woman shoved the money into her pocket and took a step back. “Yer aunt had a head full a stump water,” she said. “I reckon you two come by it honest.”

  “Well, I reckon you’re not the only one who knows how to aim a shotgun,” Hadley replied. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, nonetheless. “Don’t make me prove it.”

  Hadley and Pfeiffer watched the woman stalk away, and then Pfeiffer turned in amazement to look at her sister. In that moment, Hadley looked more like their mother than she ever had before, and Pfeiffer felt herself longing to reach out and hug her.

  “Why’d you do that?” she asked.

  “You said she was going to shoot the dog,” Hadley replied with a shrug. “I figured money would be the only way we’d ever get her to go away.”

  “That’s what Mama would have done,” Pfeiffer replied.

  “Mama never had any money.”

  “You know what I mean,” Pfeiffer replied. And then, wrestling with the words for a moment, she said, “Thank you.”

  Hadley turned and smiled at her. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Pfeiffer resisted the urge to argue, but she knew that her sister was right. She wasn’t sure if it meant that Hadley knew more than she was saying about Pfeiffer’s current state of affairs or if it was because she knew just how terrible Pfeiffer was with money. She decided it didn’t matter. Hadley had done something nice for her, and she was going to be grateful.

  “I guess we’ll need to stop and get some dog food on the way home,” Pfeiffer said after a few moments.

  “We need to get going,” Hadley replied. “We’re going to be late for our appointment with Luke Gibson.”

  Pfeiffer nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go get Martha.”

  THE GIBSON LAW Office was located in downtown Cold River, in a loft above one of the old Laundromats and just across the street from Mam
a’s bar. Pfeiffer nudged Martha as they walked inside the entryway and pointed to the bar. “I can’t believe that place is still open.”

  Martha giggled. “Yeah, it was a dump twenty years ago.”

  “When were you two ever even in there?” Hadley asked, holding the door to the office open for them.

  “You missed a lot when you left us for college,” Martha replied.

  “I didn’t leave you,” Hadley said. “I left Cold River.”

  “We were here, too,” Martha said. “Remember?”

  Mama’s, with its dark lighting and bartenders who didn’t ask questions, was the perfect antidote to the boredom of life in Cold River. Even then, Martha could drink most men under the table. It was, Pfeiffer supposed, where her sister learned to drink, and drink hard.

  “Come on,” Hadley prodded. “We’re already five minutes late.”

  Pfeiffer tore her eyes away from the bar and followed her sisters up the staircase. When they got to the door, they were greeted with gleaming oak floors and an austere-looking receptionist sitting behind a large desk. She gave the sisters a once-over before saying in a grainy voice, “You’re late.”

  “Five minutes,” Pfeiffer replied.

  “Time is money,” the receptionist said.

  “You can send the bill to our aunt,” Pfeiffer shot back.

  The woman raised her eyebrows and was about to respond when Luke Gibson emerged from the room behind her and said, “It’s nice to see you again.” He shook their hands. “Sorry about Lorain,” he whispered to them. “She’s family.”

  “Well, we are late,” Hadley said, giving him an apologetic smile.

  “It’s not a problem,” Luke replied. “I don’t have any other appointments today. Please, have a seat.”

  There were three chairs set neatly beside each other in front of his desk. He sat down and opened a manila folder, licking his thumb to leaf through the pages.

  “Did Aunt Beatrice really leave it all to us?” Martha asked, sitting down.

  Luke nodded. “What she had left, which isn’t much, is yours,” he said. “There isn’t any money to speak of, with the exception of a few stocks and bonds. But the house and its acreage are to be split evenly between the three of you.”

  “Did she say why?” Pfeiffer wanted to know.

  “No,” Luke replied, looking up at them. “But you are her only family, and as I’m sure you’re aware, your aunt wasn’t in the habit of explaining her decisions.”

  “What if we don’t want it?” Hadley asked.

  Pfeiffer and Martha turned to look at their sister.

  “Well,” Luke said, clearing his throat, “you don’t have to take it. The estate and its entails would go into probate. We’d of course have to try to find other living relatives.”

  “There aren’t any,” Pfeiffer said.

  “You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Luke assured them. “This meeting is purely informational. I simply want to make you aware of the will as it stands.”

  Pfeiffer looked over at Luke. “Could you give us a minute?” she asked.

  Luke smiled warmly. “Of course. I’ll just wait outside.”

  Hadley sank back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “It’s going to take at least a month to get the place cleaned up,” she said. “Whether we sell it or not.”

  “Let’s give it two weeks to see what can be done. We should at least try. And if it doesn’t work out, then we can make the decision to sell it. The three of us, together,” Pfeiffer said.

  “I agree with Pfeiffer,” Martha said. “Let’s think about it for a couple of weeks. There is no reason to make a decision right now.”

  “Fine,” Hadley replied, her jaw still clenched, clearly unhappy about the discussion. “But I have to be back in D.C. by the beginning of September. Fall is very busy for us.”

  “It’s a deal,” Pfeiffer replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at her sister.

  Martha got up and called Luke inside so that they could tell him about their decision.

  “We haven’t decided anything,” Hadley said, “but we do want to take some time to think about it before we make a decision.”

  Luke smiled. He had a warm smile that reached all the way up to his eyes, and Pfeiffer found herself smiling back at him. “We’ll be in touch,” she said, standing up.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Luke replied. He put his hand flush against Pfeiffer’s back as he walked them out of the office.

  If any man had touched her back like that when she lived in the city, she would have turned around and used a few of the moves she and Seth had learned in self-defense class. But there was something about Luke’s touch that sent shivers down her spine—in a good way.

  “We appreciate your time, Mr. Gibson,” Hadley said.

  As the sisters exited, Luke said, “Pfeiffer?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know I told you that your aunt never said or did anything to imply to me the reasons why she decided to leave you her farm,” he said. “I can only guess that her reasoning was that you’re her only living relatives.”

  “I know,” Pfeiffer replied. “And it makes sense. There really isn’t any reason for us to be confused about it.”

  “But she did write something that I thought was interesting,” he continued.

  “What was it?” Pfeiffer asked. She took a moment to study him. He wasn’t tall; in fact, she could almost meet his eyes without lifting her own. And his eyes were, she noticed, a deep blue rimmed with thick, dark lashes.

  Luke took a step back from her and withdrew his hand when he realized she was watching him, a hint of pink rising to his cheeks. “When we drew up the will,” he said, “she wrote that it was absolutely imperative that at least one of you three kept the farm. She said it had to stay in the family.”

  Pfeiffer’s eyebrows furrowed. “That’s strange.”

  Luke shrugged. “I didn’t think much about it at the time. Lots of older people say things like that when they’re writing up their wills. Many of them have guilt about even the smallest things.”

  “But she didn’t explain? Not at all?”

  “I didn’t ask,” Luke replied. “I don’t make it a habit to ask unless I have to know for legal purposes.”

  “Are you ready?” Martha asked, doubling back through the doorway. “Hadley is already down at the car.”

  “Yeah,” Pfeiffer replied, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. “Thanks, Mr. Gibson.”

  “Please,” he replied. “Call me Luke.”

  “Okay,” Pfeiffer replied. “Thanks, Luke.”

  Martha ushered her outside and toward the car. Finally, she said, “He’s cute, Pfeiffer.”

  “He’s our lawyer, Martha.”

  Martha sighed. “He’s also a man.”

  “I realize that,” Pfeiffer replied.

  “What did he say to you?” Martha asked. “After Hadley and I walked out.”

  “Nothing,” Pfeiffer said quickly, not sure why she didn’t want to tell her sister what Luke had said. “He just wanted to tell me he was glad we weren’t going to give up on the farm.”

  “Well, that makes three of us,” Martha replied. “Hadley is pissed.”

  “Hadley’s always pissed.”

  “I don’t know,” Martha admitted. “It seems different this time.”

  “She’s just anxious to get back to Mark,” Pfeiffer said. “It’s hard to keep tabs on him from Cold River.”

  “I guess so.”

  “What about you?” Pfeiffer asked.

  “I don’t have anyone to keep tabs on,” Martha replied. “Not anymore.”

  Pfeiffer linked her arm through Martha’s. “You can keep tabs on me,” she said.

  “You aren’t any fun,” Martha replied. “You don’t even know when there’s a good-looking man standing in front of you.”

  “That’s not true,” Pfeiffer said. “I know very well when a good-looking man is standing in front of me, bu
t I’m not going to throw myself at him.”

  In front of them, Hadley rolled down the passenger’s-side window of the Tesla. “Are you guys coming or not?”

  Pfeiffer sighed and got into the backseat of the car, wondering what wrong her aunt could have wanted to right and why Luke Gibson’s eyes had to be so goddamn blue.

  Chapter 14

  Martha

  MARTHA DROVE DOWN THE NARROW ROAD, LISTENING TO her sisters bicker about the farm. They’d argue about anything, even the grass being green. Hadley would tell Pfeiffer that it was green, and that all she had to do was look at it in order to see that. Pfeiffer would tell her that the beauty of language was that it was possible to get a group of people to say that the grass was blue, and if enough people started saying that, then it would change the meaning of the words “blue” and “green.” Hadley would roll her eyes and say that the stupid grass was green. Making up possibilities for changing a word in her head didn’t make the grass any less green.

  And the grass was, at least for now, green. Martha missed the rolling hills and gravel roads that had been so familiar to her growing up—the roads and hills and sky about which she’d written her first album. There wasn’t anything she’d done in the years since that compared to that first album, and she feared she’d spent all of her talent writing those twelve songs. Everything that came after was the product of cowriting with her ex-husband, with the exception of the songs she’d written in rehab, and she worried that nobody would be interested in a song with just her name in the credits.