Forever's gotta start somewhere.”
Performed by Chad Brownlee
Written by Barlowe / Woods / Clark
When Marco and I had arrivedback in Grand Orchard late last night, the apartment had smelled stale with disuse. I’d left after Christmas with a promise to come back and stay once my last round of obligations were behind me. Now, almost eight weeks later,Fighting for the Starswas done, the award shows were over, and my performance at Dani’s From the Ashes charity gala marked the end of any appearances on my schedule until the fall.
It wasn’t soon enough, according to my mom. She would have preferred I’d been back weeks ago. She’d almost quit her guest position in Ireland mid-year because she’d been terrified of leaving Cass alone. She’d prolonged going back until the very last moment. One slip on the snow and all of Mom’s fears had sprung to life. Fears about Cassidy and fears that I wouldn’t be there when my sister needed me the most.
I had the same fears, but I was there now and not planning on going anywhere.
While I made a pot of coffee in the tiny kitchenette, I looked out the window and caught a glimpse of the apple trees that lined the edge of the campus. They had green buds on their branches. They’d be in full bloom before too long, bursting to life in the span of a day, as if from nothing.
The front door opened to admit my sister, and the breeze caught a stack of notes on the counter, sending them sailing to the floor. I picked them up, showing them to my sister before setting them back down.
“Looks like Mom has a whole host of things she needed to tell me,” I said.
Cass grimaced. “It’s like I’m seven all over again.”
“Can I get you anything?” I asked. The kitchen was pretty bare from my absence, but in truth, it never held much. When I was home, I normally ate with my family.
“Where’s Marco?” she asked, eyeing his military duffel on the floor by the pullout couch.
“Went downtown to Waterton’s,” I said. Waterton was a local guy with an alarm company slash private security firm who my actual security team used when I wanted to keep things low-key at home. “Why?”
“Just making sure you didn’t do something dumb like send him to the college,” she said.
During one of the many late-night conversations I’d initiated since Christmas, Cass had finally revealed to me that the father of her baby was one of the professors at the school. When I’d looked him up, I’d been surprised to find a young law professor whose picture reeked of pompousness. I couldn’t picture Cass dating him. She was all environment, health, and butterfly wings, and he was obviously about money, corporations, and prestige.
“Tell me why you even dated the man,” I said. My hunch was it had been a rebellious reaction to Mom’s smothering attention.
“It really isn’t any of your business,” she said flippantly. “I’m off to work but wanted to make sure you were going to be home for dinner before I made too much.”
I wanted to push her, but it wasn’t the time. I’d talk to the douchebag himself first and see what happened from there.
“What are you making?” I asked, and even though I tried to keep it out of my voice, she heard the wariness because Cass liked to experiment in the kitchen with things that shouldn’t be put together.
“It’s just lasagna, you big baby.”
“Will it have eggplant, dairy-free cheese, and gluten-free noodles?” I teased.
“Duh,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“Then, I’ll need to go to the store to buy the largest cheesecake I can find to counteract all the healthiness.”
She punched me in the shoulder, and I flicked her earlobe before scrunching my ear to my shoulder to escape her long fingers tickling my neck. I put the counter between us, but she was already heading for the door.
“I’ll see you after work,” she said.
“Don’t get hurt, or Mom will never forgive me!”
But the door had already slammed shut behind her. Thoughts of Mom had me pulling the sticky notes toward me. They were mostly reminders of Cassidy’s doctor’s appointments, Mom’s schedule, and what felt like a hundred different emergency phone numbers. About halfway through the stack, my hand froze, and my heart clenched. “Lawyer for the estate of Elana Johnson called. See the music store for a box she left you.”
Estate? Left me?
My heart seemed to stop dead before it broke into a pattern of deep thuds that were wild and out of control. Elana was gone? It was impossible! I’d just seen her at Christmas. I had plans to spend more time with her, revisiting our debates on jazz and blues.
There was no way she’d died and no one in my family had called me.
