She stopped short when she saw Grant. “Who are you?”
Grant crouched to her level. “I’m Grant. I used to know your great-grandma.”
Lily tilted her head. “Did you like her?”
“I did.”
“She left us wishes,” Lily said. “We’re doing them one by one. First is cooking. Are you coming to dinner?”
I blinked. “Lily?—”
Grant didn’t flinch. “Only if your mom says it’s okay.”
Lily turned to me expectantly, eyes wide.
I hesitated. This was supposed to be a controlled process. Ease into the wish. Plan the meal. Make it manageable. But Lily was looking at me like I held the key to her magic world, and Grant was waiting patiently, not pressuring, just... waiting.
I exhaled. “Sure.”
Lily clapped. “Yes! We’re gonna make spaghetti, I think. And maybe lemon cake!”
Grant’s eyes twinkled. “Big fan of lemon cake.”
He stood again, nodded once more, and stepped down from the porch. “I’ll be back tomorrow to fix the window upstairs,” he said. “Let me know if you want help with dinner prep.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Just walked off like he didn’t need anything from me at all.
Which made me like him more than I should’ve.
Later that night,Willa dumped an armload of grocery flyers onto the kitchen table like she’d been gathering intel for a mission.
“I say we do a pasta night,” she announced. “No one hates pasta. And if they do, they’re the problem.”
Harper didn’t even look up from her laptop. “You’re going to cook?”
“I’m going to supervise. June is the only one here who actually knows how to make sauce from scratch.”
“I use store-bought,” I said quietly.
Willa waved a hand. “Still counts. You at least know how to salt water. I, however, am in charge of music and ambiance.”
“Oh God,” Harper muttered.
“I’ll set the table. Candles. String lights. We’ll make it cute. You’ll thank me.”
“We’re not throwing a wedding reception. It’s dinner.”
“It’s a memory,” Willa corrected. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
I looked between them; Harper, still wound tight like an unplayed violin, and Willa, all glitter and chaos. And me, somewhere in the middle. Trying not to take up too much space. Trying not to make a mess of anything.
But Iris hadn’t asked for perfection.
She’d asked us to try.
“I’ll handle the grocery list,” I said. “And I’ll get Lily to help bake.”
Willa grinned. “Yes! The child prodigy pastry chef returns.”
