Chapter 187 - What Needs To Be Done
Ethan froze.
Zac stopped too.
Roxie looked between them and felt too tired to care about whatever problem was forming.
Ethan’s eyes dropped to the envelopes in Zac’s hands.
"You stayed here?"
"She asked me to," Zac said.
Ethan looked at Roxie.
Roxie rubbed both hands over her face. "My mother is dead. Pick another morning."
The tension left Ethan’s expression.
"Right."
Zac lowered the envelopes. "We’re sorting her paperwork."
Ethan stepped around him and entered Claire’s room.
He stopped near the bed.
Clothes covered half of it. Papers filled the other half. The dresser drawers remained open, and several piles had spread across the floor.
"You started all this today?" Ethan asked.
"I couldn’t sleep."
He removed his jacket and placed it over the chair.
"What can I do?"
Roxie pointed toward the papers. "Anything connected to Claire personally. Medical debts, county letters, legal papers, old accounts."
Ethan sat on the edge of the bed and pulled a notebook from his backpack.
Zac handed him an envelope from a collection agency.
Ethan opened it and scanned the page.
"Old hospital debt."
"Medical pile," Roxie said.
He placed it beneath the hospital papers and wrote the company’s name and number in his notebook.
Zac watched him. "You know how to handle this?"
"No. I know how to make a list."
Zac returned to the envelopes.
Roxie picked up another shirt.
For several minutes, the only sounds came from paper, opening drawers, and clothing being folded.
The process should have been simple.
Shirts went together.
Jeans went together.
Dresses went together.
Every item still required a decision Roxie could not make.
Keep it.
Throw it away.
Donate it.
Wash it.
Leave it where Claire had dropped it.
Roxie folded everything and placed it on the bed.
Ethan found a county assistance letter.
"Her benefits were suspended."
"They probably stopped when she stopped answering them."
"There are forms attached."
"Keep them with the county papers."
He wrote another name in the notebook.
Zac opened an envelope and pulled out a pawnshop ticket.
"Did she pawn something?"
"She pawned lots of things."
Ethan held out his hand.
Zac gave him the ticket.
"The claim date expired weeks ago," Ethan said.
"Then throw it away."
He read the item description.
"A bracelet."
Roxie stopped folding.
Ethan noticed.
"What kind?"
He handed her the ticket.
The description listed the silver bracelet Claire kept inside a small jewelry box at the back of the dresser. It was the only piece she owned that was worth anything.
Roxie turned the ticket facedown.
"Keep it with her personal papers."
Ethan placed it beside his notebook without asking anything else.
Zac opened another envelope.
"This came from a lawyer."
Roxie looked up immediately.
"What lawyer?"
He handed her the letter.
The first paragraph concerned the bungalow.
Claire had contacted the office weeks earlier and asked whether she had the legal right to sell the property.
Roxie read the paragraph twice.
Her grandmother’s name appeared near the top.
Roxie’s name appeared beneath it as the beneficiary and legal owner.
Claire had no right to sell the house.
The lawyer had already told her that.
Claire had still tried.
"Did you know about this?" Ethan asked.
"I knew she wanted to sell it."
Zac’s expression hardened. "This was after you learned the house was yours?"
Roxie checked the date.
"Weeks before my birthday."
She folded the letter and placed it with the house documents.
Claire had started looking for a way around Roxie’s ownership before Roxie even knew the bungalow belonged to her.
Roxie returned to the dresser.
Nobody spoke.
Ethan continued writing down account names and contact numbers.
Zac checked each envelope for insurance, a burial policy, or an emergency contact.
Roxie folded Claire’s clothes.
Her phone began ringing on the bed.
The number was local.
Roxie grabbed it immediately.
"Hello?"
"May I speak with Roxxane Jones?"
"This is her."
"This is Denise from the county medical examiner’s office. I’m calling regarding Claire Woods."
Roxie placed the phone on speaker and set it on the dresser.
"Yes."
"We’re confirming your contact information and checking whether you have selected a funeral home."
"Not yet."
"That’s fine. The examination is scheduled for this morning. Once it is complete, your mother’s remains can be released to the funeral home you choose."
Roxie stopped moving.
Her mother’s remains.
The black shirt stayed open between her hands.
Denise continued speaking, but the words stopped connecting.
Roxie stared through the open doorway.
Ethan looked at her.
Then he leaned toward the phone.
"She hasn’t selected one yet," he said. "Can she call back this afternoon?"
"Yes. That will be fine. Are you helping Ms. Jones with the arrangements?"
"Yes."
"We’ll need Roxxane’s permission before discussing details with anyone else."
Ethan looked at her. "Roxie?"
She blinked.
He pointed toward the phone.
Roxie swallowed. "He can help."
"Thank you. We’ll make a note on the file."
Denise gave them the number to call once Roxie selected a funeral home and explained which information the funeral director would need.
Ethan wrote everything down.
Roxie folded the black shirt.
The first fold came out crooked.
She opened it and started again.
When the call ended, Ethan placed the pen beside the notebook.
"She said this afternoon."
"I heard her."
Zac was watching Ethan.
Roxie saw his jaw tighten.
"He’s better at talking to offices than either of us," she said.
Zac picked up another envelope. "I didn’t say anything."
"You were going to."
"I was opening this."
Ethan glanced at it. "That’s junk mail."
Zac stared at him before dropping it onto the trash pile himself.
A knock came from the front door.
All three of them stopped.
Roxie looked toward the hallway.
The knock came again, followed by Coach Miller’s voice.
"Roxie?"
The pressure in her chest eased.
She stood.
"I’ll get it," Zac said.
"It’s my house."
Roxie walked into the living room and opened the door.
Coach Miller stood outside carrying a paper bag and a cardboard tray with coffee.
His attention moved over her face.
"You didn’t sleep."
Roxie stepped aside.
Coach Miller entered and noticed Ethan’s backpack beside the couch.
Ethan appeared in the hallway.
Coach Miller looked at him.
They had never met.
"This is Ethan," Roxie said. "We work together."
Ethan nodded. "Sir."
"Coach Miller."
His gaze moved to Zac, then back to Roxie.
"They’re helping me sort Claire’s things."
Coach Miller placed the food on the dining table. He noticed the clear bag containing Claire’s belongings and moved the breakfast to the other end.
"Has the medical examiner called?"
"They’re doing the examination today," Roxie said. "I need to choose a funeral home before they release her."
Coach Miller nodded. "All right."
He looked at Ethan. "Does your school know you left?"
"I sent a message before I came."
Coach Miller left it there.
He opened the paper bag and removed sandwiches, fruit, and crackers.
"I brought breakfast."
"I’m not hungry."
"I expected that answer."
"I need to finish sorting."
"You can eat first."
"I can eat while I work."
Coach Miller looked toward Claire’s room.
The bed remained covered with clothing and papers.
"You’re taking a break."
"I’m almost done with this part."
"What part?"
Roxie looked back at the room.
She had no answer.
Zac spoke quietly. "You should stop for a while."
Roxie turned toward him.
"No."
"You haven’t slept."
"I know."
"You can finish later."
Her anger rose before she could control it.
"I need to choose a funeral home. I have to call the medical examiner back. I need to figure out what happens to her debts. I have to call the grill. I still have to tell Karen and Angela."
Nobody interrupted.
Roxie looked toward Claire’s room.
"People keep asking what I want done with her like I’m supposed to know."
The bungalow became quiet.
Zac set the envelope down.
Ethan closed his notebook.
Coach Miller pulled out a chair.
"Sit long enough to eat something."
Roxie remained standing.
He unwrapped one sandwich and placed it on a plate.
"Then you can continue."
She looked at him.
"You’re letting me?"
"I wasn’t aware I could stop you."
Roxie sat.
Coach Miller placed the sandwich in front of her.
She took one bite.
Zac leaned against the counter.
Ethan returned to the notebook.
Coach Miller passed food to both of them before taking his coffee into Claire’s room.
They continued working after Roxie finished half the sandwich.
Ethan organized the personal debts, county notices, and contact information.
Zac searched for insurance and compared nearby funeral homes on his phone.
Coach Miller helped separate items that could remain untouched until later.
Roxie kept folding.
Nobody touched the gray sweater in the kitchen.
Nobody moved the blue mug beside the sink.
By early afternoon, the piles had labels.
MEDICAL.
COUNTY.
LEGAL.
FUNERAL.
PERSONAL.
UNKNOWN.
Claire’s room remained full.
The labels only made the amount left behind easier to see.
Coach Miller stood in the doorway while Roxie folded another pair of jeans.
"I spoke with the principal before I came," he said. "You’re excused from Briarwick for the rest of the week."
"I’ll be there tomorrow."
"Roxie."
"We have state."
"The team can practice without you for a few days."
"I’m captain."
"You identified your mother last night."
Roxie placed the jeans on the bed.
"I know."
"You have arrangements to make."
"I can handle them after school."
"You need sleep."
"I’ll sleep tonight."
Zac looked up from his phone.
Ethan’s pen stopped moving.
Coach Miller stepped farther into the room.
"You have nothing to prove here."
"I’m not proving anything."
"Then take the time."
Roxie looked around Claire’s room.
The shampoo bottle remained beside the toiletries.
The old school photograph lay near the documents.
The dress from the principal’s office sat folded beneath two shirts.
Beyond the doorway, Claire’s sweater still hung over the kitchen chair.
Her mug remained beside the sink.
Staying home meant another full day surrounded by everything Claire had touched.
Another morning watching the front door.
"I’ll be at practice tomorrow," Roxie said.
Coach Miller watched her for several seconds.
"Then I decide when you’re finished."
Roxie picked up the next shirt.
"We’ll see."