I tapped the envelope against my palm. “She means it. We can’t sell or split the house unless we do what she asked.”
“And what exactly are these little ‘wishes’ of hers?” Willa asked, lifting one eyebrow. “I mean, is it build a sandcastle? Paint our feelings?”
June glanced at me. I nodded toward the hallway. “Library. She left a box.”
The three of us drifted into the library, still dim and dusty with its worn rug, tall bookshelves, and overstuffed reading chairs that smelled faintly of cedar and old newsprint. The window seat, built into the bay window overlooking the backyard, had always been Iris’s favorite spot. She used to read there in the mornings with a cup of black coffee and the sound of gulls outside.
Willa crouched beside it and pulled open the base panel. Sure enough, a shallow wooden box sat nestled inside like it had been waiting for us.
“Ta-da,” she said, lifting it out. “The Mystery of the Matriarch’s Final Wishes.”
“Just open it,” I muttered.
Inside were five folded cards, each tied with a satin ribbon in a different color. A sticky note on top read:
No peeking all at once. Open one at a time, when you’re ready. Start with the pink one. xo, Iris.
Willa held it up between two fingers. “Color-coded emotional manipulation. She really thought this through.”
June took the pink ribbon card and opened it slowly, like she was afraid it might crumble.
Wish One: Cook a meal together. And invite someone new to join you. Bonus points if no one ends up crying.
I let out a dry laugh. “So basically, a recipe for disaster.”
“She’s starting easy,” June said. “Trying to nudge us.”
“Trying to trap us,” Willa replied, but not unkindly.
We stood there for a long moment. The afternoon light had shifted, casting long lines of gold across the floorboards. Somewhere outside, Lily’s laughter rang out. It echoed faintly through the screen door like something from a memory.
June closed the card and slid it back into the box. “Iris wanted us to have a chance.”
Willa rose to her feet and dusted her hands on her jeans. “Well, I’m here. Might as well make the most of it. I don’t have a gallery deadline until September, and my last mural got painted over by a Dunkin’ Donuts billboard, so it’s not like I’m leaving behind a thriving empire.”
June looked at me. “What about you?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Willa made a face. “You came all the way here, Harper. Just say you’re staying. We can try it. If we fail, we fail. It’s not like there’s a ghost clause in the will.”
I didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth was I wanted to leave. Or at least, I wanted towantto leave. I wanted to go back to Boston and my polished office and my carefully organized life, where I could pretend everything was fine. That I was still married. That I was still the sister who kept everything together.
But standing in that room, with the dust motes dancing and the air thick with Iris’s impossible expectations, something in me cracked.
“I’ll stay for now,” I said.
Willa grinned. “Excellent. Let the games begin.”
June smiled faintly, but I could see the worry in her eyes. The need for it to be real, not just another false start between us.
“I’ll unpack,” she said softly, heading upstairs.
Willa wandered out to find Lily, and I was left alone with the old house humming around me like it was breathing.
I walked out onto the porch and sat on the swing, testing it first before easing into the familiar creak of wood and chain. The sun was sinking over the water, casting streaks of amber and rose across the sky.
