That earns me a reluctant smile, the first genuine expression I’ve seen from her all evening. “I’m not mad, you know. Just?—”
“Processing?”
“Adjusting my mental family flow chart,” she corrects, tapping her temple. “I’ve enjoyed being the fashionable sister. Now I have to compete with Zombie Librarian Chic? She can pull off black lipstick, for Pete’s sake.”
“If it helps, I’m pretty sure her makeup will wash off eventually.”
Macy snorts into her latte. “Look at you, trying to make me feel better. Shouldn’t you be over there bonding with New Sister instead of consoling Old Sister?”
“You’ll always be my favorite sister to find bodies with,” I assure her solemnly.
“High praise indeed.” She rolls her eyes, but I can see her shoulders relaxing. “Anyway, I should find Jordy. The least I can do is get lucky tonight since everyone else is having their emotional breakthroughs.”
“TMI, Macy.”
“Please. You’ve walked in on worse.” She straightens her dress and fluffs her blonde bob and her boobs. “Tell the family I’ll see them at breakfast. I need to process things in my own way.”
“By which you mean?—”
“By which I mean none of your business, baby sister.” She winks, already scanning the crowd for her boyfriend’s distinctive red-orange flannel.
As Macy sashays into the festival night, I turn to head back to my family—my expanding, complicated, wonderful family. That’s when I spot Hammie Mae approaching, pushing a stroller with little Matilda sound asleep inside, her bee costume now covered with a soft yellow blanket.
“She’ll come around,” Hammie Mae says with a knowing nod toward Macy’s retreating form. “At least I hope she will.”
I give a mournful laugh. “Knowing my big sis like I do, her ego took a bit of a hit. She likes to be the center of attention in this family.”
“Speaking of family,” Hammie Mae says, glancing down at Fudge who’s been orbiting my ankles like a fuzzy white satellite, “I’m looking to expand mine—by one dog. I was thinking if Fudge doesn’t have a place to go, I’d gladly take him in. Jellybean and Matilda just fell in love with him, and so did I.”
“But what about the labradoodle puppy you’re in line for?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Hammie Mae shrugs, her beekeeper costume rustling with the movement. “I think Fudge would be a lot of help with the new puppy. After all, I do sort of have my hands full. Plus, he would just love the farm.”
Fudge’s ears perk up at the wordfarm, so dramatically they practically form exclamation points on his head.
Farm? Did someone say FARM?He yips and squeals.I LOVE FARMS! Heath always said we’d retire to a farm someday! They have DIRT and ANIMALS and THINGS TO CHASE!
He looks up at me, his liquid brown eyes somehow both hopeful and apprehensive.Would that be okay, Bizzy? I’ve liked staying with you, but a farm sounds like heaven for a dog like me.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” I tell Hammie Mae, crouching down to pet Fudge’s soft head with the affection of someone saying goodbye to a friend. “And I think someone else agrees.”
Fudge does a happy dance that involves his entire body wiggling in opposite directions simultaneously, an impressive feat of canine physics.
I’m going to live on a FARM!he barks loud enough for anyone within a five-mile radius to hear.I’ll chase CHICKENS and herd COWS and bark at TRACTORS!
I shrug over at Hammie Mae. “I have a feeling he’s interested in chasing chickens, cows, and tractors.”
She belts out a laugh. “I don’t actually have any chickens or cows, but we do have a tractor he can bark at all day long.”
After sorting out the details of Fudge’s relocation, I watch as he trots off beside Hammie Mae’s stroller, turning back only once to give a happy little yip of farewell. One more piece of the Heath Cullen case wrapped up with a bow—or in this case, a dog collar.
The family begins to disperse as the festival winds down like a music box slowly running out of steam, everyone vowing to regroup for breakfast at the inn tomorrow morning where we can continue processing tonight’s revelations over coffee and Emmie’s magical baked goods. Hugs are exchanged, plans are made, and the promise of more time together hangs in the air like the last wisps of Halloween magic refusing to surrender to reality.
As the crowd thins, I find myself standing with Elizabeth, my newfound sister, in a moment of unexpected quiet that feels both surreal and perfectly natural.
“So,” I say, suddenly awkward despite the emotional reunion earlier, because apparently, finding long-lost family members doesn’t come with an instruction manual. “Welcome to the family. It’s chaotic, but we mean well.”
She smiles, and I’m struck again by how familiar her features seem. It’s like looking at a photo of yourself from a different angle. “I’ve waited a long time for this. It was worth every minute.”
