Funny Girl

CHAPTER ONE

The phone ringing startled her awake. She jolted upright, causing the TV remote to fly off her blanket and hit the coffee table with a crack.

"Shit!"

The phone kept ringing. She groggily felt around the couch and the blankets for her cellphone, before realizing that it was the land line ringing. No one ever called the land line. She stood up, wiping a hand across her face, and went to the front of her apartment, where a small kitchenette made itself an unobtrusive home in the corner. She picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Evelyn Frank?" A woman's voice. No detectable accent. Not familiar. Evie glanced at the microwave clock. It was 7am. Who called anyone at 7am?

"Yes... Who is this?"

"My name is Wanda Ruggers. I am calling on behalf of Conlan Realty Group, in regards to the property listed under your name at 2247 Old Mill Road in Crayton, Ohio. Are you still the owner of this property, Miss Frank?"

Evie blinked, feeling the blood rush suddenly to her face; at the same time, something in her chest tightened painfully. She swallowed. 2247 Old Mill Road was the house she had grown up in. It was the place where the first sixteen years of her life had gone so terribly wrong that she had to run away. She hadn't been back to that house in five years. Five years ago, her mother had passed away, and Evie had learned that the house had been left to her. She'd gone, packed a few things into boxes, and then hired a moving company to relocate the junk to a storage unit. Then she had left and never returned. There was an automatic monthly payment to a local property management company who occasionally looked in on the house to make sure no one was squatting or damaging it. That was all.

"Miss Frank?"

"Um, yes. Sorry. I do own it."

"Excellent. Miss Frank, Conlan Realty Group has an interest in discussing the purchase of your house. Would you be available to meet with us within the next four weeks?"

"You want to buy my house?"

It was a horrible house. It hadn't seen a repair in over twenty-five years, and the last time she had seen it, it was barely in livable condition. Selling it hadn't crossed her mind though, for some reason. She had preferred to just put it out of her head entirely.

"There is an interest, Miss Frank, but details would need to be discussed in person."

"Okay..."

"There is a team available to meet with you next month in Crayton, at your convenience."

"I'm sorry. You want me to go to Ohio?"

"Yes... You would need to be present to discuss the terms and settlement. If travel arrangements are an issue, Conlan Realty Group would be happy to accommodate - "

"No, I can take care of myself," Evie snapped, finally waking up. Who was this Conlan Realty group? What realty group flew random people places to discuss buying their property? "I could be there Tuesday the 5th." Truth be told, she had planned to take that entire week off and do nothing much at all. Maybe work on some new material. But maybe this was good fortune. Maybe it was a sign that she should get rid of that baggage the house represented. A little cash wouldn't hurt either.

"Tuesday the 5th would be excellent. I will pencil you in to meet with the group at 2pm. Shall I email the specifics to you, Miss Frank?"

"Sure."

Evie closed her eyes, seeing the house as it had been when she was a kid. With its mustard colored vinyl siding and ugly brown shutters; the rusting hinges on the chain-link gate. The smell of camphor, cigarettes, and burnt tomato sauce; her mom shrugging her shoulders and turning away, pink-slippered feet on the yellow flowered linoleum; and him, his lanky body sunk into the pleather arm chair, hand clutching a beer, two days worth of stubble on his face. Evie's eyes were starting to fill with hot, burning tears by the time she carefully put the phone back in its cradle. It would be wonderful to be rid of that place forever.