–Matthew 17:20
The tension in my body eases as I read it over and over. Though my financial situation has been causing me stress, this was exactly the reminder I needed to have more faith in God’s goodness and power.
By the time noon arrives, I look in the mirror and realize I’ve given every past version of myself a run for his money—my overgrown blond hair is combed and gelled in place, with only a few tendrils escaping at the front. I know for a fact the white button-up and light wash jeans I’m wearing bring out my eyes, and my most pricey, unused cologne clings to my skin in a way I know would drive most women mad.
Even Ingrid notices when I enter the living room. She sniffs the air from her spot on the sofa. “What smells lovely?” she murmurs.
I point to myself. “That would be me.”
“Ew.” She wrinkles her nose. “Never mind.”
“Oh, come on, sis.” I plop down on the loveseat adjacent to where she’s sitting. The stone fireplace is lit below the TV in front of us, which is currently playing a cooking show. I want to laugh because I doubt Ingrid will find a way to make something edible out of the scarce ingredients we’ve been buying. “If you think I smell lovely, I can only hope Romilly agrees.”
She frowns. “Romilly? What’s a Romilly?”
“Romilly is a she, not a what. And I’m meeting her for coffee in less than an hour.”
She snorts. “Well if she has any sense, she’ll stay away from you.” Thankfully, Ingrid isn’t referring to the untrue rumors back home about me being a womanizer. She’s just giving me a hard time because, well, she’s my little sister.
“Let’s hope she doesn’t have any sense, then. What a disappointment that would be.”
“Ah.” Ingrid’s face brightens. She stands and walks to the kitchen island a few feet away and picks up an envelope. “Speaking of disappointments, look who wrote us.” She waves the envelope in the air before handing it to me.
I scan the name in the upper left-hand corner.
Mr. and Mrs. Black.
My gaze darts to Ingrid’s face. “Mum and Dad wrote us?”
She shrugs, though I note the tension in her shoulders. “Open it, will you? I’ve been waiting all morning while you gussied up.”
I ignore the jab and tear the envelope open. Inside is a folded note with a check for ten thousand dollars. The note reads:
Ingrid,
Please stop this foolishness and leave Sebastian be. He’ll never learn his lesson otherwise. Come home. And share this with your brother so the two of you don’t starve.
Love,
Mum and Dad
I resist the urge to tear the check in two, because who am I kidding? Ten thousand is enough for us to comfortably live how we used to for a month or two. And Mum knows it. She’s probably counting on this check to remind us what we could have if I withdraw from Munera, come home, and let her take control of our lives again.
I’m about to tell Ingrid what the letter says, but she’s already at my shoulder, scanning Mother’s words herself and scoffing when she sees the check.
“As if we need that. Get rid of it.” She stomps off, making for the stairs.
“Ingrid.”
Halfway up, she pauses, turning to me.
“You can go home if you want. I won’t hate you for it.”
Her icy gaze softens. “I’m not going anywhere. Otherwise I would have, like, as soon as we couldn’t afford to buy the nice cheese anymore. And you’d better learn something from that.” She gestures to the cooking channel still playing. “Because it’s about time you learned how to be good at something other than smashing people’s faces in.”
I crack a smile. “Love you, too, sis.”
She continues upstairs and I glance at my phone. My pulse quickens when I see the text from her:
