We lock eyes, and I hold it here until she nods.
She grabs a sweater and holds it up to herself. It’s hideous. Which is perfect.
“I know you’re being protective, but remember what Nan used to say?” she muses, and I shake my head. My Nan had a lot of southern sayings she’d throw around. “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.”
I stifle a chuckle. “So, what’s Jesse shown you, then?”
Fia throws her hands up. “That he’s grown up, that he cares!” She stops shifting through the rack and looks right at me with that little sister shit-eating grin. “But don’t take my word for it, the two of you can catch up tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” I stutter, my mouth going dry.
“Family dinner. It’s Tuesday.” She winks, and I shake my head. “If you can bring back the ugly sweater tradition that Nan started, I can bring back family dinner while you’re home.”
First, this isn’t my home. Not anymore.
But also, she’s got me. I don’t know if I can maneuver my way out of this one. The great thing about me is that I can be silent all dinner long. Jesse can talk, and I will just disassociate and pretend I’m at the spa, soaking in a mud bath.
“Fine,onefamily dinner. But I’m not in the mood to cook.” I’m about to pull out my phone and order takeout when Fia puts her hand on my arm, stopping me.
“Correct. I’m cooking.”
Great.Bon appétit.
9
Penny
NOW
Fia sighs deeply from her napping position on the sofa. I plop down into the overstuffed chair next to the fireplace and tuck my legs under me, getting comfy. This was Nan’s favorite chair—thick rolled arms, plaid fabric softened from years of wear, and ornate walnut feet. I’m not a sentimental person, not like the other women in my family. Both Fia and Nan had a tendency to hold on to things. Every corner of this house has knick-knacks and mementos, a living time capsule of Nan’s life and all the grandchildren she raised.
But not me. When something is done, I cut the cord and move on.
This chair is the one thing I’d hold on to, though. Maybe I’ll take it back to my condo with me if…no,whenI get Fia to move out.
I glance over at my sleeping sister and sigh. She opened up a bit more to me this afternoon after I convinced her to browse a few more stores down by the Riverwalk. We chatted about the baby and school, but she didn’t want to talk about Brett. Neither did I.
By the time we got home, we were both exhausted. Fia crashed, and I considered closing my eyes as well, but I had too much jittery energy running through me from the week’s events—and it was only Tuesday.
So I open my laptop and pull up a browser. There are no emails to send or brides to collect invoices from, and I don’t have a weddingto shoot until the weekend after Christmas. But there is one thing I need to figure out—something I’ve been putting off.
I need to know what it would take to sell this house. Fast.
To sell it, weallneed to agree.
Danny has to sign, too, which means I have to talk to him. I can’t just send a lawyer to show up unannounced. I doubt my quick-tempered brother would take that well.
I glance at Fia with my fingers hovering above the keyboard. This is the only home she’s ever known. But if we don’t sell, she’s going to drown here—with the baby, school, and the endless repairs this place needs. We need to do this while the house is still worth something.
Convincing her won’t be easy…but that’s Tomorrow Penny’s problem.
Quickly, I type up an email to the attorney who handled the house deed and Nan’s will. I’ll have a much better grip on things once I understand how I can properly execute this whole ordeal.
I hit send just as Tank stirs at the base of the chair. I didn’t invite him to lie there, but he curled up anyway, like we’re besties.
I glance down at his gray and white face and his paws twitching in his sleep. He’s pretty damn cute, not that I ever plan to admit that out loud. I’ll just admire him from here. And take a picture of him to send to Audrey—she’s got a thing for misfit dogs.
In the silence, it dawns on me that I could google Jesse.
