"And?"
"And it's handled."
"What about the insurance paperwork? Because I was thinking, if you need me to look over the?—"
"Charlie."
"Also, did the donation center say when they'd come for Mom's things? Have they given you a date, yet? Because you need to make sure they come on a day when you can be there to?—"
"Charlie."
"Oh, also, Mr. Jones called me and said he would be interested in looking at the Cutlass. He knew Dad took such good care of it that he'd be interested in offering you top dollar?—"
"Charlie."
Charlie stopped, her momentum stalled.
"What?"
"I've got it."
Charlie took a deep breath.
"I know you do, I'm just?—"
"You're just checking. For the fourteenth time this week." Katie's voice wasn't unkind, but Charlie realized it had an edge pushing through. A weariness that wasn't about their parents' estate.
"I'm worried about you being there alone, handling everything alone," Charlie said.
"But Charlie, I'm really not alone. Mrs. Patterson checks on me. The pastor came by with some food made by the parishioners. I have the entire town practically looking out for me." A pause. "Charlie, I love you. But you call me every day, sometimes twice, and every time you ask me the same questions about the same things, and every time I tell you they're handled, you still ask again the next day."
Charlie opened her mouth and then closed it.
"I know you want to help," Katie continued, her voice softer now. "I know it's killing you not to be here, I do." Katie took a deep breath. "But I need you to trust me. I'm not twelve anymore. I'm handling this, and I'm handling it well. The lawyer is up-to-date, the insurance is filed, the donation center is scheduled, and the house is being maintained. I am eating three meals a day and I am sleeping andI am okay." The last part of Katie's sentence was delivered with deliberate, staccato beats.
"I just?—"
"You just want to fix it. I know. That's what you do." Katie's voice got quiet. "That's what you've always done, and you've always been so god damn good at it." Then her tone returned to what it was before. "But there's nothing broken here, Charlie. There's just work; good, honest work, and I'm doing it. I've got this."
Charlie leaned back in her chair and pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes. She could hear it in Katie's voice. It wasn't anger, or resentment, but the firm, quiet insistence of a womanwho needed her sister to see her clearly. The way Katie had always seen Charlie clearly.
"I'm sorry, Kit-Kat."
"Don't be sorry. I know you're just trying to be helpful. And a bit bossy." Charlie scoffed. "I know you love me and you loved Mom. But just... trust me. Okay?"
Charlie took a deep breath.
"Okay."
There was a moment of silence on the line, a beat of something shifting, and Charlie was about to say something more, something real that she'd been wanting to tell Katie for some time now. She felt a twinge of guilt at the mere fact that she hadn't said something so important to her sister yet.
But before she could even begin, she heard a voice calling from outside on Katie's end.
"Hold on," Katie said. "That's Mr. Henderson. He's been helping me with stuff around the house." A rustle, the phone being set down. Then Katie's voice, farther away: "Be right there!"
A few moments later, Katie came back to the phone. "Charlie, I have to go. He's here about the gutters. Can I call you back?"
"Yeah," Charlie said. "Yeah, of course. Go."