The Bequest
Chapter 70—Amanda

I've been driving this beast of a truck for four hundred and ninety-three days. Or at least, it feels like I have. We've actually driven more than twenty-one hundred miles. "Remember when we thought the full size van was bad?" I shake my head. "We had no idea."

"But, Mom! The GPS says we're only five minutes away!" Emery's bouncing up and down on the miserable bench seat, jostling all of us.

"The van was a rental. What're we going to drive when we get there?" Maren asks. "I'm starving right now we never even stopped for breakfast. Please tell me we aren't going to have to drive this around."

I figured we'd buy a car here in Utah-one less thing to transport. But how will I get to the dealership to pick one? Where is the closest dealership? Ugh. These are all things Abby would have planned for-things she'd effortlessly navigate. "This has been the world's worst road trip," Maren says.

She's right. I'm absolutely exhausted. "At least we're almost there." A terrible thought hits me. "But once we arrive and I park, how will I ever back the dumb truck out again?"

"Mom, the ranch house has a circular drive, remember?" Maren sighs dramatically. "You need more sleep."

She's right, about both things. I toss my phone at her. "Check the Finder app and look for movers, now that we're close enough."

She pokes at my phone for a moment. "Uh. Bad news. There's nothing in range, it says."

"Nothing?" That can't be right. "Nothing at all?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maren swivel the phone toward me. "Nada."

"I can't look at that right now. I'm trying not to crash."

"We can't even unload our stuff from the truck, not until we've cleared out all of Uncle Jed's stuff, right?" Maren asks. "How are we going to do that?"

I try not to panic.

I fail miserably.

"You okay, Mom?" Emery asks. "You're breathing kind of strange."

"I might be a little stressed," I say. "We have a lot of things at the house to disposition."

"Dispowhat?" Maren asks.

"Uncle Jed's things and ours won't all fit," I say.

"Right." Maren's quiet for a moment. "What about Kevin and Jeff? Maybe they can do it. They do work for us."

"They work for the ranch, doing ranch things." We can't really expect them to move a bunch of stuff. "But maybe they can help us replace people we can pay." I breathe in and out slowly, and I turn into the driveway and very nearly plow into a white SUV parked there.

I slam on the brakes and they screech, and thankfully, the enormous, awful truck stops. I shift it into park.

"Whoa!" Maren says. "Isn't that Dr. Dutton's SUV? Telling him we were coming was so smart."

I most certainly didn't tell him anything but she's right. He's here, standing on the porch, Roscoe lying beside him. Why is he here? Did Mr. Swift tell him I was coming? I figured Eddy'd be too mad at me for the way I left to care. I open the door and climb down from the ten foot tall platform masquerading as a seat. I toss the keys on the cushion.

Eddy walks down a few porch steps to get a better view. I know it's him, thanks to the familiar SUV and his general shape. But from this distance, he has no way of knowing who I am or what I'm doing here.

"It's me," I say. "Amanda Brooks."

At the sound of my voice, Roscoe leaps to his feet and sprints toward me like a shot. He practically knocks me over in his excitement. I drop to my knees and grit my teeth while he licks me all over my face. "I'm happy to see you too, big guy. Did you miss me?"

"We both did." Eddy didn't bolt toward me, but he moved this way too. He's now only a few feet away. "I thought you were gone for good."

My heart's beating a million miles a second when I look up at him. "That was the plan. Actually, Lololime ordered me to go back to New York, but it turns out I don't take orders very well."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You should."

"The full size van didn't get you enough attention?" he asks. "Don't tell me the rental place only had moving trucks." His expression is bemused.

"In a small town like this, I need a gimmick, right? There's already an old lady with a pig. There's an inattentive postal worker. There's a woman who sings to her plants. There just aren't that many good options out there at this point-I decided I'd be the Penske Girl. That has a nice ring to it, right?"

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"Actually." Emery climbs out of the passenger side and circles around. "Mom had a meltdown about a mile back. The trip here was hard, and we don't really know anyone. She was kind of panicking about how we're going to unload the truck and clear out the old stuff from Uncle Jed's house by ourselves."

Great. Now he thinks I'm helpless, and worse, hysterical. "I was merely concerned I wouldn't be able to locate movers here," I say. "The app I used in New York turned up no results. I was hoping Kevin and Jeff might know some people " Eddy takes another few steps, until he's close enough to reach out and touch me. "You've been in New York City too long."

"We weren't there very long," I say. "It hasn't even been three weeks."

"Roscoe will attest that it felt more than long enough." Eddy crouches down, but Roscoe doesn't so much as shift from my side. "That's why I was here. He's been absolutely miserable without you."

Oh, no. I rub his head again. "I'm sorry you've been sad." It's probably because he lost Jed. I was worried about that-but I figured taking a country dog to New York would be harder on him.

"That's not what I meant when I said you were in New York too long I meant that you're thinking about things all wrong. You know plenty of people in Birch Creek." Eddy stands up. "We're all your neighbors now, and we'll all lend a hand with whatever you need."

"Hey!" Jeff shouts. He's driving the little utility cart, and Kevin's riding with him. "You're back!"

"I am," I say. "But I'm afraid you'll be wishing I wasn't soon enough."

"She's worried about how she and the girls will get the house cleared out and her stuff moved in," Eddy says.

Jeff and Kevin both whip out their phones. Within fifteen minutes, a dozen neighbors are on site. After introducing myself to three women and seven men, I finally see a familiar face.

"Amanda! You're back." Amanda Saddler's beaming at me, her wrinkled face as animated as ever. "I hear another season of Bridgerton will be out soon. I was worried I'd have to watch it by myself." "You didn't have to drive down here," I say. "It's exhausting work—"

"Oh please," Amanda says. "I may be old, but I'm healthy as a horse."

Another truck pulls up on the side of the road-the driveway is clear full-and Steve climbs out. He jogs over immediately, his eyes scanning the area. Wonder what he's looking for...

"I think we should move Jed's stuff into the front of the metal building," Kevin says. "Then you can sort through your things and figure out what to keep before we fill it with the end of the hay crop." "Good idea," Steve says. "Do you have enough furniture in the truck to fill up all the rooms?"

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"I don't," I say, "and I think we ought to leave beds in at least three of the rooms for now. Abigail isn't going to have anything with her when she gets here. Or at least, I don't think she will. She really wants to catch the beginning of the school year."

Steve freezes. "Abby's coming back?"

Looks like I'm not the only chicken in our family. She clearly didn't tell him about her plans. "She just called me. I think she made the decision very recently."

"Well, we better get going." Steve leads the charge into the house.

Amanda Saddler hefts a huge bag full of cleaning supplies over her shoulder.

"Amanda, really, please don't-❞

"You're one of us now, so you should learn this," she says.

"What?" Maren asks.

"City folk stop working when they get old. They retire." She cackles. "Out here, we never stop working. Sitting around ain't good for you." She trudges up the steps and into the house. I doubt anyone could stop her.

For hours, as soon as a room's cleared out, Amanda's there, wielding a broom or a vacuum and an armful of cleaning rags and solvents. Every single room we clear is cleaned and ready by the time we're prepared to move boxes and furniture inside.

"Where does this go?" Eddy points at a whitewashed bunk bed.

"That's mine," Emery says. "But me and Maren are going to share the front room. The one with the big bay window."

"If we have to share, it's only fair that we get the best room," Maren says. "Don't you think?"

"Absolutely I do." Eddy hefts the back of the bed and carries it into the house. "But the real question is, who gets the top bunk?"

The girls follow him, both making their case, and for a moment, no one is talking to me or asking me anything.

As I look around at all the people here to lend a hand, most of whom I've just met for the first time, I realize that Eddy's right. I spent far too long in the big city, if this is how life works in a small town. I duck into the pantry for a moment as my eyes well with tears, but unlike the tears I've cried so often in New York, these tears are joyful ones.

THE END