Nana has always been cold, but Ella has never heard her voice quite this frosty.
“And I canceled your cards. And the appointment with Baird. And all that business with the shopping today. Honestly, woman, do you even look at receipts?”
Even without seeing them, Ella can hear Nana’s posture change, can feel the anger rising. “Oh, I look at receipts. I look at the receipts for your trips, the massages that aren’t therapeutic, and the special room service and the bottles of champagne. I look at the checks that go out every month to Jenna and Candice for their fat babies. I see the receipts from the florist that delivered two identical bouquets, one to me and one to God knows who. I see them all, Randall, and I’m certain your bottom line is higher than mine.”
Grandpa Randall chuckles, and he sounds like the Big Boss in a videogame. “Well, when you’re the one paying the bills, you get to set that limit, Patricia. And you throwing it in my face doesn’t change anything. I told you: You knew what this was. And you know damn well it’s over.” He snorts juicily. “Just have to be right all the time, don’t you? A man can’t admire that.” The floor creaks as he walks, and Ella sees his shadow in the hall. “I’ll be at the hotel. And you can expect the papers next week.”
He waddles down the hallway, and Ella shrinks down behind the garbage bags, knowing that what she’s just seen is the sort of thing that will make Nana hate her forever. Nana, who is perfect, who knows everything, who is always in charge.
Nana whose gross old husband is apparently dumping her.
Now Ella realizes what they were arguing about on the patio. Now she understands why Nana was clearing out the safe.
Because she just lost all her resources.
She could almost laugh if she wasn’t painfully aware that she and Brooklyn now depend entirely on Nana. Mom is gone, Dad is gone, and now all the money that made Mom dump her and Brookie with Nana in the first place is gone.
“Stupid garbage piece of shit—”
Nana spots Ella as she reaches for her bag. Her eyes narrow, their lack of wrinkles almost making her look like some freaky robot person.
“Gloating, are we?” she asks, sticking out her chin.
Ella goggles with surprise. “What? No, ma’am. I didn’t hear anything—I mean, I wasn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me. You heard it. Probably understood most of it, too. And I’m guessing that your mother has poisoned you against me to the point that you’re glad to see me knocked down a peg.”
Ella shakes her head, desperate to get out of this situation but, again, utterly trapped. “No, Nana. I’m sorry. Grandpa Randall—”
“Randall. Just Randall. Let’s not pretend he’s your family anymore, shall we?”
“Yes, Nana.”
“Now stand up and stop spreading that vile puddle on my carpet.”
Ella stands, aware that her jean shorts are dripping, her hair is a wet mess, and she’s still wearing her suit under her clothes. Funny how being around Nana makes her feel like an awkward, stupid little kid.
Almost like Nana does that on purpose. To everybody. It’s definitely how she talked to Rosa and Miguel, when they were here.
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”
“I came upstairs to get my medication. I swear I wasn’t trying—”
Nana massages her temples. “It doesn’t matter. You know now. You would’ve known tomorrow, anyway. So here we are.”
“Okay?”
“Stop doing that thing your generation does where you end every sentence on a question. It makes you seem weak and stupid.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
For a moment, they’re silent, just standing there. Nana in her immaculate clothes, posed before her nondescript bag full of cash and diamonds, and Ella in her dripping cutoffs and faded tank, legs and feet bare, feeling self-conscious.
“Can you cook?”
That is not what Ella thought she was going to ask.
“What?”
“It’s a simple question. Can you cook?”
“A little? I mean, yes, ma’am, a little.”
“Then go downstairs and make dinner for us. I don’t know what Rosa has in the pantry, but I’m sure you can find something.”
Ella stares at her. “Is that it?”
Nana jerks her chin at the door. “Yes, that’s it. Do as you’re told.” She seems different now, sharp and tough, as if under her tanned skin and cool exterior and soft pastels she’s been made of twisted wire all along. She inexplicably reminds Ella of beef jerky.
Ella scampers around her, wondering where her grandmother is going to hide these things that probably belong to Grandpa—no, just Randall. If he wanted her to have them, he would’ve told her to take them. And if she thought he wanted her to have them, she wouldn’t have bothered to sneak around trying to get them. Or waiting until Ella left to squirrel them away.
Ella hurries downstairs and checks on Brooklyn on the patio. Her little sister is still fully focused on the TV, which is good. Just a few feet away, the bright-blue water of the pool waits, too deep for the five-year-old to touch the bottom even in the most shallow places. Ella freezes in a strange new panic, as if an egg has broken over her head. She only now realizes that leaving a five-year-old by a pool by herself for ten minutes is probably the biggest mistake of her life, and she makes herself promise she won’t expose Brookie to this kind of danger ever again. At least she can still see her little sister from every spot in the huge kitchen so she won’t have to risk making Nana even angrier.
She bumbles around the pantry red-faced with shame over her mistake and decides to make macaroni and cheese from the noodles and wheel of hard orange cheese she finds in the kitchen. It’s so weird, how Nana has no idea what’s even in here. The cheese is much fancier than cheddar, but Brooklyn won’t know the difference. It’s her favorite food, and this is penance for leaving her unsupervised by a thousand gallons of death.
As she waits for the water to boil, Ella does a more thorough inventory. The pantry has some staples, but not a ton. No flour or sugar, lots of crackers and fancy cookies and tins of disgusting things like capers and anchovies. The only loaf of bread is brown and seedy and expensive. The fridge is mainly full of salad ingredients and raw vegetables and the things someone might put on a cheese plate if other old, boring people stopped by. The freezer is completely empty, aside from various contraptions that make ice cubes in unusual shapes.
Ella frowns.
If Randall cut off her grandmother’s card, does that mean that the money in the heavy, zippered bag is all she has? And if so, how is she going to take care of two girls? And pay for all the bills that keep this castle running? The food here won’t last more than a week at most, and Brooklyn will complain as soon as she’s offered anything green that isn’t covered in sour sugar.
Oh God.
If there’s no money…there are no vaccines.
They’re pretty much screwed.
Ella stirs the cheese into milk, staring as it melts. She begins to formulate a plan.
22.