Always the Last to Know(75)

“It is, and it isn’t,” I said. “It’s a good place to grow up.”

“You couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

“And here I am, back again.”

“Only because of Grampy.” She rolled onto her belly and propped herself up with her elbows, my sister’s little miniature. “Is he going to die, Sadie?”

“Nope,” I said. “I mean, what happened was scary, and it was life-threatening, but he’s out of the woods now.” I tapped her little nose. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Then why does Mommy cry in her closet?”

Juliet? Cry? “Uh . . . well, it’s stressful, you know?” Shit. “I mean, Grampy’s getting better, but he’s not his old self, and I’m sure she misses that. I do. Do you?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. I like Nana better, to be honest. She’s the fun one.”

“What does she do that’s fun?” As ever, that image stung—my mother, a completely different person when I wasn’t around. I listened as Brianna detailed things like planting seeds to grow flowers for the garden, baking, taking her clothes shopping, going to the movies just the two of them, getting matching pedicures.

Sounded damn nice. I hadn’t known my grandmothers.

“Bedtime!” Juliet called, lurching to a stop as she saw me on her daughter’s bed. “Sadie, the guest room’s all made up.” Pepper leaped off the bed, ready for the next adventure.

“Thanks,” I said. “Good night, Princess Brianna. I love you!”

“Love you too, Sadie,” she said with a smile. “Good night, Pepper.”

A little while later, Jules stopped in my room. I had already thanked her profusely for sending Noah over, admitted my inadequacies as a home renovator and sworn to listen better and be nicer to Mom.

“Got everything you need?” she asked.

“Yes. Thank you again.” Humility was the price I had to pay. “Hey, Jules. Brianna said . . .”

“What? Is she cutting herself?”

“No! Jesus. Is she?”

“I just asked you!”

“Well, not that I know of or saw. She was wearing shorty pajamas, and her skin is perfect.” My sister’s shoulders relaxed a few inches. “No, but she said she heard you crying? In your closet.”

Jules grimaced. “Oh.”

“You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah. A work thing. Plus Dad and Mom.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed. Glanced down the hallway and came in, shutting the door behind her. “There’s this woman at work. She’s great. Very talented. I hired her, and I have nothing but good things to say about her, but . . .” She stopped. “Don’t tell Oliver. Or Mom. Do not tell Mom.”

“Okay.” Wow. I didn’t know that Jules and I had ever had a secret, especially one we kept from our mother. “So what about her?”

“She’s been . . . anointed. I don’t know how or why, but suddenly, I seem to be yesterday’s news.”

I started to answer, then stopped. This was the closest Perfection from Conception had ever come to asking for advice or sharing anything except perfect nuggets from her perfect life. My answer had to be good.

“I can’t imagine that someone with your talent and work ethic, with all the beautiful buildings you’ve designed, could ever be yesterday’s news.” I paused, curling my toes, and pulled out one of my best lines for my little students when they confided in me. “But that must be very hard.”

Jules looked at me a second, and I wondered if maybe I blew it. Then she gave me a fast, hard hug, and left. “Sleep well,” she said.

Then she was back. “And thanks for being so great with Brianna. She worships you.”

She was gone again.

Well, well, well. “Pepper,” I said to my dog, who was already asleep in the middle of my bed, “I think I’ve just had a bonding moment with my sister.”

I got into bed, content with the world. Noah . . . well, we were friends again, at least. Dad was getting better. Juliet had said something nice to me. I loved my nieces.

And I had a very good dog.

If Sister Mary could’ve heard my thoughts, she would’ve said, “Count your blessings before the shit hits the fan.”

A wise woman, that.



* * *



— —

By the time I got back to my house the next day, Noah had been there and left, and there was a new and very sturdy-looking beam where the wall had once been. Safe to go upstairs said the note taped to it. I’ll be back later. Clean up the rubble in the meantime.

So bossy. But it gave me a warm feeling, knowing Noah had been here. I’d have to sell a few more couch paintings to afford paying him. Maybe more than a few. Maybe I’d have to take out a bank loan.

Whatever it cost, I didn’t care.

Alexander texted me, asking if I could come to the city tonight for dinner and stay over. I was just about to turn him down, since I had homeownery things to do, when a car pulled into my little driveway. An Audi.

It was Gillian Epstein of Epstein Events.

Pepper, faithless cur that she was, bounded over to her. I wish I could report that Gillian was the type to shriek and be afraid and fuss over any fur on her clothes, but instead she bent down and rubbed Pepper’s neck and spoke to her, my dog’s tail beating the air so fast it was a blur.