Excerpt from Find Me in California

CHAPTER 1

Matt turns his Porsche into the driveway and stops at the sight before him. Fifteen large boxes stacked five across in towers of three block his garage. Bleary eyed and exhausted from his flight, he stares. Somebody screwed up a delivery, because this is too large of an online order to forget. These boxes aren’t his.

Sucks for whoever they do belong to. It’s monsoon season.

He glances up at the sky. Bloated clouds are moving in fast and he’s not leaving his silver metallic baby outside overnight. The boxes, however, will remain in the driveway unless the owner lives nearby and can pick them up before the rain starts. There’s only so much space he’s willing to give up in his garage.

Grabbing his phone, he unfolds from the car, intent on moving the boxes out of the way and calling the number on the shipping label. But what he reads stops him cold. Ship To: Mrs. Elizabeth Holloway C/O Matthew Gatlin.

His grandmother. What the fuck?

He hasn’t seen or heard from her since he was eighteen, when he moved out of her house and left California. That was twelve years ago. Alarming that she knows where he lives. But not as disturbing as the boxes being left in his care.

Matt grips the back of his neck and looks up and down the street. Please don’t tell him she’ll show up next.

To say they have a complicated relationship is an overstatement. Their relationship is nonexistent. Elizabeth Holloway made sure of it after his mom’s death. Which prompts another thought . . .

Maybe Elizabeth finally croaked.

For one glorious, fantastical second, giddy satisfaction explodes inside him. God rest her soul, but trust him: ever since he moved away, his life has been better without her in it.

But the feeling doesn’t last long. If she were dead, the boxes would have been addressed specifically to him and sent with an explanation. A phone call giving him a heads-up that he had inherited her belongings would have been nice. A letter informing him of her passing would have been sufficient. Anything but this inconvenient and unwanted surprise.

Only one way to find out what’s going on and stop this impending train wreck.

He calls the number on the label, reading the return address. Weird, they were shipped from Pasadena. His grandmother lives in Beverly Hills. She inherited her house from Matt’s great-grandfather, a producer who made his riches during Hollywood’s golden age. Matt can’t imagine she would have sold the place and moved out.

A woman answers after the fourth ring. “Rosemont Assisted Living and Memory Care, this is Julia. How may I direct your call?”

Ah, that explains the address.

Matt mentally calculates Elizabeth’s age, putting her at eighty-three. He wonders what she did with the house.

“Elizabeth Holloway.” Matt keeps his tone neutral. Inside, his stomach churns at the thought of having to speak with her. This is not how he planned to start the evening. He’s starving and has to curate the several thousand photos he took at the International Auto Show. After a seventy-two-hour, whirlwind trip to New York and back to Santa Fe, he still has a long night ahead.

“We don’t have an Elizabeth,” says the woman on the other end of the line.

“You sure? Because someone there sent me—”

“Wait, do you mean Liza? We have a Liza Holloway.”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

A light, self-deprecating laugh comes over the line. “I blanked out there for a second. Long day. Forgot Liza and Elizabeth are the same. She goes by Liza here.”

He should have remembered that. Everyone called her Liza. Everyone but him. He wasn’t allowed. To him, she was Grandmother Holloway. Always formal, never familiar.

“One sec. I’ll transfer you.” She puts him on hold.

Matt switches the phone to his other ear, ruminating on how suc­cinctly he can tell his grandmother that she isn’t welcome at his house and neither is whatever’s inside the boxes.

He doesn’t have to wait long before the line connects. But his grandmother isn’t the one who picks up.

“Liza’s with her nurse at the moment. May I take a message?” says the woman he was speaking with. “She’ll call you back.”

“Who’s in charge?” Maybe he doesn’t have to speak with his grand­mother at all. Surely whatever’s going on has to be some mix-up on the center’s part.

“That would be Lenore Pullen, the facility director.”

“I’ll speak with her.”

“She’s in a meeting right now. I’ll transfer you to voicemail.”

Slumbering memories from when he was first sent to live with his grandmother begin to wake. Choppy water. Small boat. An empty stomach. A heartache that stole his breath and almost his life.

His answer is sharp and short. “No.” He can’t revisit that time.

He then pushes out a long stream of air. He didn’t mean to snap. But he does need this resolved pronto. “What did you say your name is?”

“Julia.”

“Hi, Julia. Matt.”

“Hello, Matt.” Her voice is pleasant with an undercurrent of cheer. It helps calm his nerves. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I’m hoping there is. I’m tired and I’ve got a long night ahead.” He pushes a thumb into his temple where his head aches the most. If he doesn’t pop an edible soon, that throb will turn into a full-blown migraine within an hour. His photos won’t get edited. He’ll miss the deadline with Road & Track. Dave will be furious.

“I’ll try my best to help, sir.”

“I just returned home to find fifteen boxes left on my driveaway. Do you have any idea why Elizabeth sent them to me?”

A gasp. “You’re Matt, her grandson.”

Unfortunately. “That’s me.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection when you first asked for her. I’m more tired than I thought. I’m so glad you called.”

“So what’s up with the boxes?”

“She didn’t send them. I did.”

“Come again?”

“I helped her pack and arranged the delivery.”

He has so many questions about that statement. One makes it to the front. “Why didn’t you call ahead and warn me? A heads-up would have been nice.”

“Lenore did call. Quite a few times.”

“When? Never mind.” He doesn’t need to look at his call log to know there are likely many missed calls from Rosemont’s director. He doesn’t listen to voicemail and rarely answers calls from unknown num­bers. That’s why he has Dave. His partner handles the business end of things, books Matt’s shoots, and negotiates the contracts.

“She has no one else, Matt. She wanted me to throw everything away. I get that she isn’t sentimental, but I couldn’t bear for her to let everything go because she has to move out, so I convinced her to send her things to you.”

“You lost me.” He’s so confused. None of what she’s said makes sense, especially the part about his grandmother having no one else.

CHAPTER 2

Julia gapes at the phone’s receiver. The grating dial tone from Matt’s severed call loud enough to hear despite her holding the earpiece away from her head.

Liza mentioned she and her grandson are estranged, but she didn’t tell Julia that he is downright rude.

She’d like to add inconsiderate, ungrateful, and disrespectful to his list of flaws. He abandoned a frail eighty-three-year-old woman and has no issue admitting this to Julia’s face. Or, more precisely, her ear.

Julia plunks the phone in its cradle, miffed. That must be some rift between the two of them.

She waffled about asking Liza what had happened between them because she didn’t want to pry. Liza wouldn’t hesitate putting Julia in her place. But she does feel sorry for the woman. From what she’s seen, Liza doesn’t have any regular visitors other than her missing power of attorney.

It makes Julia all the more grateful for the relationship she used to have with her grandmother, Ruby Rose Hope. She was fortunate to have been raised by the free-spirited and passionate woman, and she appreciates every hour she volunteers as Rosemont’s in-house massage

therapist so she can be close to Mama Rose, even if her grandmother rarely remembers who Julia is nowadays.

“Any calls come in?” Shelly asks, returning to the reception desk after her break.

“A few that I forwarded. Nothing urgent. You’ll see them in the log.” Julia stands, giving up Shelly’s seat. She almost tells Shelly about Matt’s call but decides against it. That’s between Matt and Lenore. And Julia. Liza’s financial and living circumstances are confidential. Julia only knows Rosemont is giving the elderly woman the royal boot because Liza complained to her during her massage session. She asked Julia for assistance to bag and toss her personal possessions. She said she has no use for them if she’ll be homeless. Initially, albeit reluctantly, Julia cooperated. But when she came across Matt’s birth certificate and asked Liza about it, the older woman admitted Matt is her grandson. When Lenore confirmed Matt is Liza’s backup power of attorney and that her calls to Matt had gone unanswered, Julia convinced Liza and Lenore to allow her to box and ship Liza’s possessions to Matt. She hoped the delivery would prompt Matt into action.

It did, just not in the way Julia had expected. A resounding no. He’s not going to help Liza.

What a mess she caused. She took a risk and it backfired.

She should update Lenore. Judging from the phone conversation, Matt won’t be calling back.

“Jules, do you have a moment?”

Julia glances over her shoulder at Lenore Pullen. Just the woman she needs to speak with. “Sure. One sec.”

“Are you here tomorrow?” Shelly asks.

“You know me. Every day after my shift ends at the club. Like clockwork.”

“I have an extra ticket for Margaret Cho at the Ice House. Starts at eight. Come with me? Dale’s going to the Dodgers game.” Her husband lives for baseball.

“I wish, but I’m here past nine tomorrow night.”

Shelly’s bottom lip curves into a dramatic pout. “You need a life, girl.”

Julia works a full shift five days a week at the Pasadena Country Club spa, then puts in a four-hour shift volunteering at Rosemont. She also spends her days off from the spa at Rosemont, to upward of twelve hours a day.

What Julia needs but can’t manage is a social life. With her disas­trous record with romantic relationships plus her mounting debt, she can’t afford one—emotionally or financially. Whenever she feels lonely, she overcompensates by working. So far, she’s never felt alone. But that feeling has an expiration date. Once her grandmother passes, Julia will truly have no one. She tries not to think about it.

“Next time.” Julia’s smile is apologetic. She hopes there will be a next time, one day. But that day is far off, and after repeated rejections, Shelly will likely stop inviting her out. Her invitations will dry up like Julia’s other friendships.

Shelly wiggles her fingers goodbye, and Julia follows Lenore to her office.

Lenore’s private space overlooks Rosemont’s side yard garden, a beautiful display of foliage and color. The facility’s grounds solidified Mama Rose’s decision to move in during the earlier stages of her demen­tia. This is where she wanted to be when Julia could no longer care for her. The cordial and experienced staff impressed Julia. She believed they’d treat her grandmother as family. But she wasn’t entirely sold on the idea until she crunched the numbers. Between Mama Rose’s social security and portfolio disbursements, and how long the doctors expected her to live, they could afford Rosemont. Barely. Julia would have to volunteer at least thirty hours a week in exchange for a reduced monthly fee. That was on top of her full-time job to keep herself fed and not lose Mama Rose’s house, which she had to mortgage to cover her grandmother’s expenses after they exhausted her retirement savings.

“Have a seat.” Lenore gestures at the chair before her desk. Her features look strained behind her sapphire blue–framed glasses, her

expression guarded underneath the Chianti-red lipstick as she settles in her own chair.

Julia suddenly has the distinct feeling she’s being laid off. Silly, given she’s a volunteer.

She warily sits across from Lenore. “Is something the matter?”

Lenore folds her sturdy hands on the desk. Doe-brown eyes rove across Julia’s face before lowering. “This isn’t easy, so I’ll get right to the point.”

“Okay.” Julia tugs at her hot-pink Dickies pants. This isn’t good if Lenore can’t make eye contact.

“Not many people know yet. It hasn’t been officially announced. Rosemont has been purchased by a larger corporation. Effective imme­diately, we are under new management.”

Julia’s mouth parts. “Oh.” Maybe Lenore’s being laid off. “Have you been let—”

“No.” Lenore shakes her head. “Not yet anyway. I’ve been told they intend to keep the existing staff. Our new parent company will act more in the capacity of oversight. It’s one of the reasons the board agreed to the terms. We don’t want disruption in care.”

“That’s good.” Julia slouches with relief, but she wonders how this could affect her grandmother’s care. Lenore’s gaze turns troubled. “That is good, right?”

Hands steepled on the desk, Lenore taps her fingertips together. “I know we have an arrangement for Ruby.”

Their arrangement has been a lifesaver.

Julia’s knee starts to bounce. “Yes, and?”

“We can’t honor it anymore.”

Her knee stops, and Lenore’s announcement sinks in. “What do you mean?”

“They’re cracking down on our finances. All residents must pay their full contracted fee.”

Their agreement to exchange Julia’s volunteer hours for a discount on Mama Rose’s fees isn’t in writing. It’s between her and Lenore, who’s

become a dear friend. As long as Lenore worked at Rosemont and Julia volunteered, they would be good. Julia knew Lenore could renege on the monthly discount and the fee could revert to the contracted rate. But thinking something could happen is not the same as it actually happening.

“You swore you—”

“I swore I’d honor Ruby’s discount as long as I could. There was always the possibility rates would increase or the board would crack down. I made that clear in the beginning.”

Julia chides her selective memory. Lenore had explained all this and more. She was just in denial this day could come. Ignorance is bliss until it rains on your parade.

“I don’t have the authority I once had, and I no longer have sway with the board, not under the new management structure. I can’t make exceptions, Jules. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll volunteer more hours.”

“When?” Lenore peers at her through thick lenses. “You’re already putting in twelve-hour days.”

Julia throws up her hands. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.” She has to—she doesn’t have other options. She’s exhausted her income sources.

“Even if you could find the time, I still can’t honor our deal.”

“Lenore . . .”

Lenore slumps over her desk. “Jules, please. I love your grand­mother. Don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

Harder for her? Lenore’s grandmother isn’t the one getting evicted if Julia can’t make the full payment.

“How much time do I have?”

“End of the month.”

Five days until the full fee kicks in. And not for just the upcom­ing month, but for every month thereafter. They’ll burn through the remainder of the cash Julia put aside when she mortgaged Mama Rose’s house.

“And if I can’t make the payment?”

“We’re left with no choice but to give her notice. We have several others on the waiting list.”

And the center’s new parent company sees only dollar signs on the ledger.

“We’d hate to lose Mama Rose, but I understand if you see fit to move her to another facility.” Someplace more affordable. Lenore’s sug­gestion goes without saying.

As much as Julia would love to save money and cut back on her hours, she can’t. She can’t move Mama Rose. For reasons her grand­mother refused to share, Mama Rose insisted she spend her remaining days at Rosemont. She begged Julia to promise that under no circum­stance would she move her elsewhere unless it was back home for hos­pice care. She has to live here.

Julia pushes up from the chair. “She’s not moving out.”

“Julia.” Lenore rises with her. “Please listen to me as your friend. You’re already overextended, and you’re practically broke. You told me yourself. You’re also not being fair to yourself.”

A small price to pay. She made Mama Rose a promise and she intends to keep it.

“I’ll come up with the difference.” Who knows how.

Julia leaves Lenore’s office in a daze, her mind grappling for solu­tions and coming up empty handed. It isn’t until she reaches her grand­mother’s room that she remembers. She forgot to tell Lenore about her conversation with Matt.

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