Chapter Thirty-Three
The sun is bright, but the air is cold the next day as Sloane and I walk to the Caffeinated Cat.
“We should have driven. It’s freezing out here,” Sloane whines.
“This is nothing. You should come visit me in New York. Try trekking a few blocks in the city.” The temperatures might compare, but something about the city makes it feel colder.
“I’d love to come visit you,” she says. “Maybe over winter break.”
“Excellent. Then you can really experience a true New York City winter.”
“Can we go ice skating at Rockefeller Center? And spend New Year’s in Times Square?” she asks, growing excited. “Gah, please! That’d be so fun.”
“Uh, that’s quite touristy of you, but okay,” I say.
“Well, I am a tourist. I’ve neverbeento the city. We should probably go see the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building, too.”
I laugh. “We can if you want to.”
“And Central Park.”
“Okay, you make a list, and we’ll visit as many as we can when you come,” I tell her.
We’ve just passed the bookstore when Dorothy walks out of the florist. “Oh, Sloane, Ellis. I just heard the good news!” My cousin and I look at each other. Sloane shrugs. “About your mom putting an offer in on the house on Apple Blossom Lane,” Dorothy adds.
“Mymom?” I ask, my eyebrows drawn together. I shake my head and laugh. “Sorry, but that one’s just a fake rumor. Probably shouldn’t spread it.”
“Well, I heard it directly from Joe Mercer,” Dorothy says.
“I have no idea who that is, but he’s mistaken,” I tell her. I glance at Sloane, who’s grown unusually quiet. Her eyes are wide with confusion.
“He owns Bramble Falls Realty…,” she mutters quietly.
“What?” I exhale.
Someone is wrong. Wires got crossed somewhere. Mom wouldn’t buy a house in Bramble Falls. We’re supposed to be home by Thanksgiving.
Still, my throat tightens.
“I have to go,” I think I say.
I sprint home with Sloane on my tail. “Ellis, chill. We don’t know what’s true!”
Adrenaline carries me the two blocks home. I swing the door open and stomp into the kitchen, breathless. Mom looks up from her coffee and the art magazine she’s reading.
“What’s wrong?” she says, setting her mug on the table, concern carved into her face.
“Are you buying a house in Bramble Falls?” I ask.
Mom goes pale. She stands slowly, like she’s approaching a skittish animal. “I was going to talk to you about it tomorrow. I just wanted you to enjoy your prom tonight.”
“Talk to me aboutwhat, exactly, Mom?”
“I put in an offer. That doesn’t mean we’re getting the house.”
“What the hell? Why would you put an offer in on a househere? We’re going home soon.” The whooshing blood in my ears crescendoes as panic suffocates me. “Are you… are you and Dad getting divorced?”
Mom looks at the floor. “I can’t go back to him, Ellis.”
