Chapter 28

Tallulah sat at her kitchen table. She was busy typing when her laptop chimed; it was her Skype app. She clicked on it, and Sharon's face appeared on her screen.

"Hi, Tallulah!" she said excitedly. "I hope I'm not interrupting you." "No, not at all. I'm just working on my article."

"Great. I want you to know I talked with Sylvia and we're going to run your article. I want it to be

our cover story, as I told you. I want to get some pictures of Lily for the story. Also pictures of

the shelter and so on. I was thinking we could shoot Lily at the open mic. What do you think?"

Tallulah found it hard to hide her excitement. "I think that's great. I'm honored that you'd give me the cover."

"It's a compelling story, and one I think people would enjoy reading. Besides, You & Me should run it before someone else does," Sharon said.

"I agree. I haven't been able to find Lily since that day you met with her. I'm sure she'll turn up," Tallulah said.

"I talked to Sylvia and explained the situation to her. She agreed. So, no scandal or behind the back bullshit. I just wanted you to know," Sharon said. "I'll be in touch with the info on the photographer. You may want to tell Lily when you see her. If you have any problems, let me know."

Tallulah nodded, and Sharon clicked off. She then jumped up from her seat and started dancing around the room. "I have arrived!"

Lily slowly walked toward her suitcase at the bus depot. She'd spent the last 2 days with Owen. She retrieved her bag and waited at the cab stand, then climbed into the back of the cab and closed her eyes.

She must have fallen asleep because the next sound she heard was that of the cab driver talking. "Hey lady, we're here. Lady, you asleep? Wake up."

Lily opened her eyes to see the cab driver looking at her. She paid the fare, climbed out of the cab, walked to her motel, and used her key to open the door. She then walked into the small room, set down her suitcase, and closed the door behind her.

She couldn't help thinking about what Owen had said about Sylvia taking the trust money. She couldn't figure out how she could have taken it. But someone did take it. She knew that for certain.

She opened her suitcase and looked at the photo album Owen had given her. She carefully placed the album on the bed and opened it, then glided her hand across the photos and smiled.

She turned the pages of the album until she came to the announcement of Clyde's death. In the announcement was a picture of the mangled car. She frowned and closed the album.

She dug in her coat pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and carefully unfolded it. She stared at Tallulah's number, hesitated for a moment, then quickly picked up the phone and dialed. She listened to the trill of each ring until she heard a voice say, "Hello?"

"Is this Tallulah?" she asked.

"Yes. Is this Lily?"

"Hi, it's me. I was calling to see if you could meet me tomorrow and bring the record."

"You can meet me in my newspaper office. I can give you the address. It's not far from Zoe's restaurant. I'm glad you called, Lily. I was getting worried," she said.

"I'm okay. I've been…busy." She turned over the piece of paper and grabbed a pen. "I'm ready for the address," she said.

Tallulah gave her the information. "I'll be there tomorrow by 11 am," Lily said.

"Great. See you tomorrow, Lily."

Lily hung up the phone, then decided she'd visit Mr. Franklin at the bank. She had to find out what happened to the trust money.

Michael walked up the old stairs to the 3rd-floor apartment. He'd been looking for a place for the past couple of weeks, but everything was either out of his price range or on its way to being condemned.

The stairs creaked with every step he took. When he finally reached the 3rd floor, he was a little out of breath. He checked the apartment number on his phone and headed down the dimly light hallway until he reached apartment 3F. He tapped lightly on the door.

"It's open!" he heard a voice shout.

Michael slowly pushed on the door, opening it.

The room was bigger than he imagined. Two windows in the kitchen allowed light to flow into the room. He was surprised it was furnished.

"Come on in," the voice said. "I'll be with you in a moment."

He stood in the main room and looked around.

Must be the living room, he thought to himself.

The furniture was old but clean. He smiled while looking at the couch. It was long and green.

Bigger than Tallulah's, he thought to himself.

A young-looking woman entered the room.

"Oh," she said, "are you here to look at the apartment?" He nodded and said, "Yes, is it still available?"

"Yes. My dad lived here until he passed away about 2 weeks ago." She noticed the look of concern on Michael's face. "Oh, he didn't pass here. He'd been in the hospital. I've been trying to clean up and get the place ready to rent. My name is Cindy. My uncle owns the building, so

there's been no rush to rent the place. I was hoping to have everything moved out of here by now."

He shook Cindy's hand. "I'm Michael Chang," he said. "Nice to meet you, Cindy."

She looked around the room. "The place probably won't be ready for a while. I've got to figure out what I'm gonna do with my dad's furniture and stuff."

"Can I look around?"

"Sure, have at it," she said.

Michael wandered throughout the apartment, opening and closing doors, peering into cabinets, turning on the faucets and opening and closing windows. When he finished his inspection, he found Cindy in the kitchen. She was taking some dishes out of the cabinet.

"I never realized how much stuff my dad had," she said, reaching for another plate.

He reached over her and grabbed the plate. "How much is the rent?" he asked while handing her the plate.

"Well," she started, "I'm really not sure. My uncle owns this building and rarely comes around. Most of the apartments are empty due to repairs. To be honest with you, I don't think he cares. He said he's giving me this place, but I don't think I can handle it. I mean, I do work and have a family. He said he'd repair the apartments and I could be the manager, but I don't even live near here." She looked at him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be laying all this on you. I'd say the rent would be about $800-$1000."

"So, there isn't a manager for the building?" he asked.

"Well, there's me, and I'm not much of a manager," she said.

Michael thought for a moment. "What if I managed it for you? You know, collect the rent, deal with the tenants."

"You? Well, do you have any experience managing a building?"

"Well, no, but I do run my own paper. It's called Big World, so I have management experience."

"Your own paper, huh?" she said. "I've never met anyone who owned their own paper." "It's not as exciting as it sounds." He chuckled.

"Well, you seem like a level-headed guy, but I'll need some references." She walked over to the kitchen table and picked up a notebook. "Leave your information here. I'll need to do some checking before I say yes, OK?"

"Okay," he said, taking the notebook from her hand.

She sat down in a chair and gestured for him to sit. "So you own a newspaper? What's that like?"

He picked up a pen that was sitting on the table and sat down. "Well," he said, "it's fun and challenging at the same time. It's a small paper, but I've been doing it for 5 years." He stopped writing and looked up at her. "The cost of print is rising, so I may not be able to keep it afloat. I make money with people who by ad space. Now with technology, there are other ways to reach your customers, so people stop buying ad space."

He handed her the notebook. She took it from him and glanced at what he'd written.

"I used to write short stories and poems and stuff. It was silly," Cindy said.

"Why was it silly?" he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. I guess I didn't want people to tell me my stories were stupid or boring or that my poetry sucked."

"I'm sure they didn't suck or were stupid. Do you still have them? The stories and poems?" She giggled. "Seriously? I dunno, maybe at home in a box in the basement. I haven't thought about it in years."

"Well, maybe someday you'll let me read them. I wrote down all my info. I even provided some references for you to call."

Cindy stood up. "If this works out, we can talk about knocking down the cost of rent. I'll make a few calls and let you know." She paused for a moment, then said, "You'd really want to read my stories and stuff?"

"Yes," Michael said, "I'd really like to read them."

"So, this will be the stage area?" Anna asked, walking around the dining room of Zoe's restaurant.

"Yes, I thought we could put the mic here, then have all this room for the servers to walk through."

"Good idea," Anna said. "I didn't think of that."

"This is going to be so good, Zoe. The social media campaign Chloe did was amazing. There are people who are already donating! She even set up an account for those who wish to donate now. She's been amazing. You've been amazing."

Zoe watched her as she wandered around the room. "You know, I think the media will be here, too. This place could really use a fresh coat of paint, but who has time for painting?" she said, frowning.

"Oh, it looks great, Zoe. You have a nice place. I like it. I think you should add some Mexican food, but I'm biased," Anna joked.

"Preparing Mexican food takes time…well, good Mexican food. It's just not my specialty, but I make a mean margarita." She laughed.

"Okay, we're counting down, two weeks from tomorrow," Anna said, sounding excited. "This is going to be a great event! Did you know Chloe set up an online sign-up sheet? When I last checked, it was full. I don't think we'll be able to let people sign up the night of the event. I mean, we can have only so many people up there, right?"

"Right, or we'll be here all night. The show should end around 11 pm. I've got a modified food and bar menu. I'll have a little more staff here, too. They've volunteered to help out. It should be good."

"Great. I know you want to get home. Thanks for seeing me so late. I thought it would be better with no one here." She hugged Zoe and walked towards the door. "See you later!" she said and walked out the door.

Zoe waved to her and locked the door behind her. She walked in the center of the dining room, sat on the floor, crossed her legs, and put her hands on her knees. She took 3 deep breaths and could feel her chest rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. She closed her eyes and slowly began to chant Om Namah Shivaya. This was the chant she'd learned before her college days.

One day, when she was about 14, she found her cousin sitting in the basement, cross-legged, chanting. She thought she'd gone crazy. Her cousin explained to her that she was meditating. She slowly put her index finger to her lips and made a shushing sound.

Zoe sat and watched her cousin for several more minutes until she stopped chanting. "What's meditating?" Zoe asked.

"It's a way to connect with the Universe," her cousin replied softly. "It helps me stay centered and grounded. I got into it a few years ago. You have to be quiet, I don't want my mom to hear. She thinks it's all mumbo jumbo, but meditation is a good thing, Zoe. You should try it. I can help you."

Zoe cocked her head to one side. "Meditation? What is it? I mean, what do you do?"

Her cousin smiled. "Well, most people sit like me." She gestured for Zoe to sit.

"Now, some people lay down or sit in a chair. The most important thing is that you be comfortable. Okay?" she said. Zoe nodded her head. "You don't have to chant, but I like to.

Some people just close their eyes, sit quietly, and empty their minds of all thoughts. Just let your mind be still. It takes some gettin' used to, but once you continue to do it, it becomes second nature."

Zoe put her hands on her knees and closed her eyes. "Okay, now what were you saying?" Her cousin laughed. "I think you should start with the simple OM chant. So now close your eyes and think or say, 'OM'. Be sure to breathe, too; that's important. Before I start to meditate, I take several deep breaths. In through the nose, then out through the mouth. You try it."

Zoe took several deep breaths in through her nose, then out through her mouth. She felt her body get warm, and she began to relax. She felt a calming wave flow over her.

She then heard her cousin say, "Now when you're ready, go back to normal breathing and start to say or think OM."

Zoe began to say the word over and over again. It was strange because somehow this word helped her relaxed even more.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she heard her cousin say, "That's good for a beginner."

Zoe slowly opened her eyes. "Wow, that was cool," she whispered.

"Yes, meditation is cool, but don't let our parents catch you. They just wouldn't get it."

Zoe sat in the middle of her restaurant, softly chanting. She smiled as the memory of her cousin flooded her mind. She then took a deep breath, bowed her head, and mouthed the words thank you.