“No more than me or you.” I secure a cape around her neck and spray her hair.
“I’m not as crazy now.”
I comb her tangles and wish she was in a salon chair so I could raise her at least a foot. “Am I supposed to take your word on that?”
She laughs. “Not so crazy I walk my dog in my pajamas in the middle of the day.”
She’s got me there. I shrug and say, “Why bother to change clothes when I’m just goin’ back to bed again?”
“Because you need to join the real world.”
I wouldn’t say Katrina herself lives in the real world. What did she say over coffee and crepes? That she reads auras? “I joined the real world. I went to Texas to see some people I know, but they didn’t want to see me. Now I don’t have anyone.” I pull a section through my fingers and to the cut line. “I’ve lost everythin’.” I comb, looking for strays. “Nothin’s left.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“I know. My life is crap, and I’m stuck livin’ it.”
“No, you’re being a crybaby.”
My mouth falls open. “Me?”
“On the way here, I passed a man wearing grocery bags over his tennis shoes. You and I have boots, a warm place to live, and good food. Our teeth aren’t falling out and we don’t duct-tape our coats to keep the stuffing inside. I knew him once upon a time when he raised fine horses, had plenty of food and all his teeth.”
That’s the most I’ve ever heard her speak at one time. “There’s different kinds of sufferin’. You can have money but still have nothin’.”
“Tell that to the guy with the grocery bags on his feet.”
I snip a few uneven hairs and put the scissors on the vanity to stop myself from cutting a chunk out of the back of her hair. “I lost the most important people in my life, and I can never see them again,” I begin, and there’s no stopping me once I start. “They had to borrow money to bury their only child. They don’t duct-tape their coats, but it might come to that. I wanted to set them up so they never had to worry about money for the rest of their lives. I couldn’t just hand them a check.” Tears cloud my vision. “I have more money than I know what to do with, and theirs is half spent before they make it.” I wipe my cheek on the arm of my pajamas. “It’s killin’ me inside.” I pick up Magnus and bury my face in his topknot.
I expect Katrina to call me a crybaby again or ask why I was in Texas if I have amnesia. “What about a contest?” she asks.
I look up. “I tried the Publishers Clearin’ House sweepstakes, but Pudge didn’t believe me.” I set Magnus on the floor and take the cape from around Katrina’s neck.
“Hmm… Lottery won’t work… You’re not Oprah. Maybe a charitable organization.”
“They won’t take charity.” I reach for a comb to part her hair into sections.
“How about a society? I got a thousand bucks from the Hip-Hop Society for outstanding achievement when I was ten. Every year a dance studio sends in one name to the society. The year I won, I didn’t know my instructor sent in mine until I got the call.”
My hands still and my gaze lifts to hers. She’s half a bubble off plumb, but she’s smarter than me. Why didn’t I come up with that idea months ago?
27
Who knew that I could hop on a Chatsworth-Jones private jet and travel anywhere anytime I wanted? Not me.
I feel a little out of place at first, but like with the Phantom, you get used to traveling in style and comfort. Katrina gets so used to it, she passes out on champagne. I don’t think she’s supposed to drink on her medication, but she’s in her mid-twenties and tough as a stewed skunk.
We fly into Midland and grab a taxi to the unit where the Ford truck has been stored this whole time. It starts right up, and on the drive to Marfa I notice that Katrina’s smiling a lot. I don’t know if it’s a booze glow or if she’s planning how to kill me. I ask her and she laughs but doesn’t say which.
She loves the shocking-pink Airstream at El Cosmico just outside Marfa and thinks she wants to glamp in a yurt. “I know how to use flint and steel to build a campfire,” she says. Unfortunately for her, I booked two rooms at the Saint George, where there’s actual plumbing and restaurants within walking distance. Hotel Paisano is just up th
e street, but I don’t want to take the chance of being recognized. It’s not that I’m hiding this time. Momma and Daddy know my foundation has chosen them to receive our first grant, but I don’t want to cause problems and make Momma cry again.
I’m a private foundation. The Chatsworth-Jones New Beginning Foundation, an organization with the goal of serving individuals, families, and communities in need. It falls under the broad category of a human services charity, which considers a recipient’s life experiences and is so general I can choose to fund anything from food banks to substance abuse programs to community parks.
Katrina wanted to name it No Time Before You, but that’s too long and requires an explanation that I’d rather keep to myself. The Brittany Lynn Foundation was dismissed for the same reason. It took me, two lawyers, and Marv three months to get the foundation registered and compliant and operational. I never knew there was so much paperwork and so many hoops to jump through. Oliver tried to help me understand it all, but I’m not going to lie, paperwork and hoops are not my forte. I have a new appreciation for Marv and his lawyers, but I insisted on choosing the first grant recipient. Lawrence and Carla Jean Snider of Marfa, Texas, were chosen for their charitable outreach to grieving families. They are granted a Ford Rapid Red F-150 SuperCrew truck and a check for fifty thousand dollars toward the first of four phases of the Brittany Lynn Memorial Park.
Last week, Momma and Daddy hired the only lawyer in Marfa to meet with one of the foundation attorneys. They signed contracts stating that over the next four years, they will be granted a total of two hundred thousand dollars to complete the park. There are some timetables for each phase and supplementary provisions for yearly maintenance after completion. In addition to the grant, they will each receive a managerial salary of five thousand per month for the rest of their lives. And because I’m afraid they’ll go broke in Vegas, buying everyone they know a hot tub, or Johnny J. a new church, I’ve provided a financial advisor out of El Paso for them.