Kylie Cantrall's Arc

Chapter 6 of 78

Kylie let the call ring twice before she picked up. Her mother's voice came through fast and tight. The label had phoned her at seven in the morning asking why the estate she had booked under her name was billed for two guests. Kylie sat on the piano bench and knew she had about a minute to say it right. "Mom. Stop. I was going to call you today." She pressed her hand flat on the blank paper. "There's a girl. Her name is Arianna. She wrote me a letter last year. I finally answered. I met her at the estate on Tuesday. She's coming here Friday." The line went quiet. Kylie heard her mother breathe once. Then, "A girl." "Yes." "You used my name to book a house so you could meet a stranger." "She isn't a stranger to me. I read every letter. I called her. I gave her a key to the front door." Her mother said the key part back to her, slow. Kylie waited. She had learned not to fill her mother's silences. "You gave her a key," her mother said again. "Before you told me her name." "I know. I'm sorry. I'm telling you now, before the label does." "They already did, Kylie." Kylie closed her eyes. The room she had built for Friday sat around her, piano turned to the window, fruit in the bowl, blanket folded on the floor. She had spent the night arranging a welcome and forgotten the one call that could cancel it. "Then let me tell you the rest before you decide anything," she said. "She's a songwriter. She has a puppy. She doesn't want anything from me. I checked. I watched her for a whole day at the estate. She didn't ask for a picture. She didn't ask for a song. She held the dog while it slept." Her mother said, "Send me the letter." "Which one." "The first one. The one that made you call." Kylie went to the drawer under the piano and took out the cream envelope. She photographed the pages and sent them. She heard her mother's phone chime on the other end. Then a long pause while her mother read. "Friday stands," her mother said finally. "But I'm coming Saturday morning. I want to meet her before anyone at the label writes a single word about this." "Okay." "And Kylie. Next time you book a house under my name, call me first. Not after." "Okay." Her mother hung up. Kylie stayed on the bench with the phone in her lap. Friday was safe. Saturday was a new door she had not planned for. She had less than forty-eight hours to prepare Arianna to meet her mother, and Arianna did not know yet that the meeting had grown by one.