Jorie read over more of their flirty exchange, her eyebrows arching. “‘I’d rather watch the sun rise than have breakfast with her.’” She looked again at Hilary. Jorie’s pain was palpable.
Hilary sank to the bed, covering her face with both hands. This was beyond bad. The last thing Hilary wanted to do was hurt Jorie. Jorie did so much for her, picking her up when Hilary fell down the dark well of despair. She shuttled her to therapy sessions and grief group meetings. Jorie shouldered the burden of Hilary’s work around the farm as well as her own that first year, all the while caring for newborn Hattie. She did it without complaining or making Hilary feel beholden to her. And then once Hilary’s mind started to clear, Jorie made the suggestion to move ahead with the B & B plans. It buoyed Hilary, made her feel needed again, filled with purpose.
Jorie’s stony silence was worse than anything she could say. Hilary looked up, fighting to see Jorie through blurry eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Jorie set the paper back on the dresser and crossed the room to sit down again. She cupped the mug in her hands, watching her over the rim. “So what does this mean?”
Hilary sat upright. “It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’tchangeanything.”
“You like him.”
“Well, yes.” That was obvious from the notes they’d exchanged.
Jorie looked down at the carpet, slowly shaking her head.
Hilary waited. “What?”
More silence.
“Jorie, say something. Please.”
Her sister-in-law looked toward the window. She waved her hand dismissively. “I think you’ve forgotten why we’re here,” she said with resignation in her tone.
Hilary huffed. “No, I haven’t.”
“I thought we were in this together.”
“Of course we are.” Her voice rose an octave. She cleared her throat.Stay calm. “I’m sorry for the note. Those words weren’t…kind.”
Jorie’s lips pressed together. Then, “No, they weren’t, but that’s not the issue. This is what Will wanted. I thought this is what you wanted.”
Her words were hushed but they were as clear as if Jorie shouted them. Hilary’s breath caught.
“Don’t use his name like that.”
Jorie frowned. “Like what?”
“As a weapon to hurt me.”
It wasn’t the first time Jorie used the memory of Will to get a reaction. The first time happened last fall when Hilary was set to leave for a long weekend in Tempe to visit her parents. She’d forgotten her promise to watch Hattie while Jorie met with a contractor about working on the newly purchased property. Jorie went through the roof, accusing Hilary of not taking the project seriously. Hilary apologized profusely, Jorie canceled the contractor meeting, and they’d had a heart-to-heart when Hilary returned from her trip.
Since then Hilary committed to being more involved in the decision-making.
She spent hours with Jorie hashing out the details of rehabbing the old Robillaud place. The stately Victorian farmhouse down the road had fallen into disrepair and had been off and on the market for years. The property caught Will’s eye when he and Hilary were first married since its land abutted Larkin Farms, but they weren’t in a position financially to make an offer. After Will’s accident, Jorie made it her mission to buy the place.Will would want this, Jorie reasoned. In her fog of grief, Hilary agreed.
All the planning paid off. The bank approved their loan without reservations. In her initial walk-through with Jorie, the condition of the house horrified Hilary. She remembered shrugging off Will’s comments about the house after he’d gotten a peek inside one day when the then current owners had been on the property. “It has good bones, Hil,” he’d said. “It needs new mechanicals and a little paint.” Good bones indeed! Hilary almost laughed out loud when those words popped into her head. She could still imagine the pitch in his voice growing higher as it did when he’d try convincing her of something. She’d blissfully avoided becoming involved in the idea, letting Will and Jorie dream about bumping out walls, chimney repairs, and adding bathrooms. It was all talk; they didn’t even own the house. If it ever became a reality, she’d step in when it was time to decorate, thank you very much. Now she felt guilty for her skepticism. Will had always been the glass half-full type and was excited about the revenue stream a B & B would offer. Redville had one Super 8 near the interstate. The nearest B & B was thirty minutes away in Claremont. When she looked at the dilapidated house, all she saw was a one-hundred-fifty-year-old money pit. But unlike Hilary, Jorie inherited her brother’s enthusiasm for fixing the old place.
Jorie huffed, bringing Hilary back to the present. Jorie’s expression still looked pinched.
“I would never use Will’s name like that, Hil. I’m shocked you think I’d do that.”
Hilary hugged her arms against her chest. The shame squeezed her insides, stifling her ability to take a calming breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. She was always apologizing.
Jorie stood. “I’m getting hungry. Did you eat?”
Hilary shook her head slightly. Were they finished talking? What was resolved? “No, I’m not.” She was a little nauseous to be honest.
