Dad's Blue Pick-Up
Chapter Two
“We can’t sell dads truck.” Scarlet muttered, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at the dining room table. She had called a family meeting as soon as I explained why I broke down. While Asher, mom, and I had kept mostly silent, her and Easton went back and forth before she finally sat down and resorted to pouting.
Easton sighed and shook his head. “We have too, Scarlet. Dad is the only one who worked on it other than Bryn. Mom won’t be able to drive it, Asher can’t take it because it’s a safety hazard to everyone on the road, and I don’t want it.”
Scarlet turned her glare to him. “But it’s dads truck!”
“What do you want me to do?!” Easton shouted, throwing his hands in the air and making everyone jump in their seats. “We can at least get enough from selling it so that we can pay for this funeral, Scar. Mom needs the money now that dad is gone.”
“I have savings. And we still have the store. That and dad’s social security and the money I’ll get from his life insurance policy should be enough that I can get by. The house is already paid off, and Bryn is going to stay and help me for a while.” Mom whispered, not seeming to have any more strength for anything more.
I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her close. “I’ll stay as long as you need me, mom.”
“You know, you always do this, Easton. You can’t handle any of your ‘feelings’ so you just try to push it all away. That’s why you want to sell the truck, so that you don’t have to think about dad every time you look at it.” Scarlett stood up from her chair and threw the box of tissues she held throughout the service down on the table.
Easton groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Don’t be so dramatic, Scar. I’m trying to be practical.”
Scarlett silently fumed and opened her mouth, probably to tell him off like she had hundreds of times before.
“I think it’s a good idea to sell it.” I rushed out, ignoring Scarlett’s glare and Asher’s bewildered expression. “Dad wouldn’t want it to just sit in the garage. He would want it to be used and appreciated.”
Mom grabbed my hand on top of the table and smiled at me, thanking me for preventing another Easton-Scarlett war. “I agree. And I think Bryn should be the one to sell it.”
“What?!”
“Honey, you know that truck better than any of us.” She glanced around the table, her gaze passing over each one of my siblings. “You know what it needs and I know you’ll be able to find it a good home.”
Easton sighed and shook his head. “We have too, Scarlet. Dad is the only one who worked on it other than Bryn. Mom won’t be able to drive it, Asher can’t take it because it’s a safety hazard to everyone on the road, and I don’t want it.”
Scarlet turned her glare to him. “But it’s dads truck!”
“What do you want me to do?!” Easton shouted, throwing his hands in the air and making everyone jump in their seats. “We can at least get enough from selling it so that we can pay for this funeral, Scar. Mom needs the money now that dad is gone.”
“I have savings. And we still have the store. That and dad’s social security and the money I’ll get from his life insurance policy should be enough that I can get by. The house is already paid off, and Bryn is going to stay and help me for a while.” Mom whispered, not seeming to have any more strength for anything more.
I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her close. “I’ll stay as long as you need me, mom.”
“You know, you always do this, Easton. You can’t handle any of your ‘feelings’ so you just try to push it all away. That’s why you want to sell the truck, so that you don’t have to think about dad every time you look at it.” Scarlett stood up from her chair and threw the box of tissues she held throughout the service down on the table.
Easton groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Don’t be so dramatic, Scar. I’m trying to be practical.”
Scarlett silently fumed and opened her mouth, probably to tell him off like she had hundreds of times before.
“I think it’s a good idea to sell it.” I rushed out, ignoring Scarlett’s glare and Asher’s bewildered expression. “Dad wouldn’t want it to just sit in the garage. He would want it to be used and appreciated.”
Mom grabbed my hand on top of the table and smiled at me, thanking me for preventing another Easton-Scarlett war. “I agree. And I think Bryn should be the one to sell it.”
“What?!”
“Honey, you know that truck better than any of us.” She glanced around the table, her gaze passing over each one of my siblings. “You know what it needs and I know you’ll be able to find it a good home.”