Auntie Cassandra

Sometimes, Andi swore she was actually Cinderella. No handsome prince on the horizon, but still.

Her parents were never that stable a match, and dad vanishing when she was ten hadn't been a big shock. Her mother dying from cancer three years later while she was starting high school, was. And living with her paternal grandparents wasn't exactly a bed of roses. They hadn't seen their son since he took off, and somehow they blamed Andi and her mom for that.

If it wasn't for her mom's older sister Cassie, she didn't know what she would have done. "Auntie Cassandra" became their private little joke. When she came to pick Andi up, or called the house and got one of the grandparents, she always announced herself that way. Because, clearly, they were anti-Cassandra.

Andi never knew if it was because Cassie was an artist, or if it was because she never put up with their nonsense. All she knew was that she felt like she had more in common with her acting, writing, painting aunt than she had with anyone else in her father's family - which of course annoyed "Grand" no end. Her age conscious grandparent insisted on being called that. It turned Andi's stomach.

Still, they had no way to really keep them apart. Cassie was listed as one of Andi's guardians in her mom's will - and even though she traveled a good deal for her work, she kept in touch as much as she could. Sometimes during the summer they would travel together, and it kept Andi sane.

She just wished she could turn eighteen overnight and get out of their house for good. Shake the dust from her shoes and be able to travel with Cassie as much as she wanted.

And she was very nearly eighteen when the bad news came. Cassie had taken a bad fall hiking in British Columbia, and while they were waiting for an ambulance, she died. The doctors said it was an aneurism, a freak timebomb in her brain that went off, maybe not even associated with the fall, or maybe it actually caused the fall.

Andi was crushed. And she couldn't help overhearing her grandparents whispering about how much money Cassie might have had, and how it should go to them for 'having to watch that child all these years', even though Cass had constantly given them money for her.

Sitting in the lawyer's office, she didn't expect much.

The man behind the huge teak desk shuffled papers. "Alright. While a great deal of Ms. Brenner's estate has been donated to various charitable organizations -" he paused as the Grand scoffed. "-including her artwork and..." his voice trailed off for a moment as he skimmed the document. Andi took a deep breath and sighed it out, making her grandmother frown at her sharply.

"Isn't there anything about us? Surely we deserve some of that." Her grandmother practically snarled at him. He gave her a bland look, clearly accustomed to bad reactions from bad relations.

"I was just getting to that. Ms. Brenner has left the sum of one hundred dollars -" Grand gasped in shock- "To Mr. and Mrs. Hollister. For, and I quote, "Next to nothing."

"This is an outrage! After all the years we put up with that child-"

The lawyer went on, unperturbed. "And to Ms. Mirandi Brenner, her niece, this." He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small black notebook, passing it over to Andi. It was swiftly intercepted by her grandmother.

"I'll take that!" Her grandmother flipped off the elastic closure and ruffled through the book, seeing if anything shook loose. "Oh, for... it's just her stupid poetry. What a joke!" Then she turned to Andi. "Here, for all the good it is. It's even those stupid limericks she loved to post everywhere."

Andi sighed as she took the book gently. "Haiku."

"What?"

"Haiku. Not limericks. They're differ-"

"I've had enough of your wise ass remarks, young lady. Oh, I can't wait until next month when we can be rid of you for good!"

The lawyer gave her a sympathetic look, and she grinned at him. Nothing her grandmother could say bothered her anymore. "I can't wait either, Grand. Believe me."

Later that day, Andi had time to go to the park. She sat on a sunny rock and pulled the notebook out of her pocket. She remembered Cass writing in it, saying that haiku were a perfect warmup, because they were structured enough to be, if not easy, at least predictable. Not to mention she could fit three on a page, even in this small book. Thinking of her aunt, her eyes watered. "Miss you, Cass. Tell me something." Closing her eyes, she opened the notebook to a random page.

I see your life bloom / like a water lily now / floating down the stream

Andi smiled through her tears. "Thanks. I'll be out of their house soon. I may be homeless, but -"

She flipped a few more pages.

Always find the end / more often than not, you see / it's the beginning

Her head tilted as she frowned at the page. It was almost like... Taking a deep breath and doing it before she thought too hard, she flipped to the back of the notebook. On the last page was a single haiku.

If I ever leave / take this to the Falcon, please / I know they want it

Blinking at the words, she shook her head, then read them again. That can't be right. She read them again. Opening to the front of the book, she saw that under Cass's name, it said "in case of loss, please return to Falcon Publishing", with the address underneath. Looking up, her eyes drifted down the street. The publishing house was only a couple blocks away.

"Okay, Cassie. You got it."

Fifteen minutes later she was in the front office of Falcon Publishing. The receptionist smiled. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm Mirandi Brenner -"

"Oh! Any relation to -

She couldn't help but smile. "Yes. She's my aunt."

The receptionist suddenly looked solemn. "I'm so sorry for your loss. For all our loss, really. Cassandra was a wonderful woman."

Andi swallowed. "Thank you. May I speak with her publisher?"

"Of course. I know she'll want to see you." She lifted the phone, and after a few softly spoken words, ushered Andi through a door.

The woman behind the desk stood as Andi came in, and came around the desk to shake her hand. "We're all so sorry."

"Thanks, Ms -"

"Please call me Beth. Your aunt was more than a client, she was a friend. Is there anything I can do for you? Cass always spoke so highly of her niece, Andi." Her smile was warm, and Andi felt more welcome than she did at her grandparent's home.

"Well," she said, pulling the notebook out of her pocket, "I think Cassie wanted me to bring this here." Almost reluctantly, she handed it over.

The woman took it carefully, opened it and began to read. "Ah! The haiku book. She'd always said..." Her eyes were bright when she looked back to Andi. "Do I have your permission to go ahead with publication?"

"My permission?"

"I imagine she didn't tell you. Probably afraid that 'Grand' would try to get involved."

Andi tilted her head quizzically. "I still don't understand."

"Come with me."

They walked back out into the lobby, and then down a hallway to another door. Beth opened it with a key, and Andi followed her in. One wall was lined with file cabinets, and the only other furniture was a chair and a small table.

"You know your aunt was quite successful as a writer, yes?"

"She didn't talk about it a lot, but I have all her books."

"Well." Beth opened a file cabinet and walked her fingers through a series of folders. "Here we are." She pulled out the file and opened it on the table. "A year ago, Cass signed this." Andi leaned over to read it. After a few moments, she stood upright, then leaned over and read it again.

"Does this say I own her work now?"

"It does. 'On the event of her passing', you became owner of all her works. Even those published posthumously.

"But it wasn't in the will!"

"Didn't have to be. She set it up here. Completely separate, completely legal."

They left the room, Beth putting away the file and locking the door carefully behind them. They walked back to Beth's office in thoughtful silence.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah... just..." Andi shook her head. "I don't know what to say."

"Well, there's also this. But Cass always stressed that you shouldn't even deposit anything until you're eighteen and 'out of there'." She handed over a legal sized envelope. In it was a check.

"Twenty... twenty thousand dollars?" Andi gasped. "This can't be right!"

"Oh, rest assured, she took care of all of it. This is her royalties from the last year. Not enough to live on forever, but a good start, don't you think?"

Andi stared at the check, and then stared at Beth. "...thank you."

"All your aunt, I promise. Shall I hang on to that for a bit?"

"Yes, please." Andi handed the envelope back. "And Beth... after it's published... may I have the notebook back?"

The publisher smiled. "Of course. It all belongs to you."