“Eli.” Leah’s voice floats in. “Don’t scare the guests.”
“She’s not aguest, she’s family,” he grumbles, his eyes catching mine and softening. “Good to see you, Frankie.”
Logan finally turns, eyes landing on me with easy friendliness—and yeah, I suddenly get why Lulu’s glowing. “Hey, I’m Logan.”
“Frankie,” I say, giving a small wave. “Nice to finally meet the guy causing Eli lifelong emotional damage.”
He grins. “Oh, I plan on making it worse.”
Lulu nudges him with her foot. “Behave.”
He kisses her temple, purely to irritate Eli, and God help me, it works.
I’m still smiling when I notice the girl curled in a beanbag in the corner, half-hidden behind a sketchpad. Ash-blonde braid, big blue eyes, that familiar guarded posture that used to be so much sharper.
“Hey,” I say, crossing over and crouching. “Aurora, right?”
“It’s Rory,” she says softly. “Only teachers call me Aurora.”
“Got it.” My smile widens. “I’m Frankie—only teachers call me Francesca. We met years back, but you were probably too cool to remember.”
She gives a tiny smile. “I remember you.”
I nod toward her sketchpad. “What’re you working on?”
She hesitates, then flips it toward me. It’s Eli, mid-lunge and face contorted, clearly about to be nailed by a bauble.
My laugh is bright and immediate. “Please tell me that’s his Christmas gift.”
“Thinking about it.”
“She’s got talent, huh?” Herb says, appearing behind us with a dish towel slung over his shoulder. “We’ve got a whole gallery wall going. Ran out of fridge space.”
“She’s incredible,” I say honestly.
Rory shrugs. “Helps pass the time.”
She goes back to sketching, and something in my chest swirls. She’s older and steadier now, but I remember the early days when Rory was quiet, skittish, and heartbreakingly young.
Herb and Leah gave her home a couple of years ago, after what I can only guess was a brutal start to life. Now she has a landing place. A future. She seems to be so much happier now.
“Leah,” I say, catching her eye as I stand, needing to shake off the sudden swell in my throat. “Tell me what I can do to help,”
“You,” she says, brushing a hand over my arm with a soft smile, “can grab a glass of wine and sit. Let us spoil you a little.”
Before I can answer, Herb calls back as he walks toward the hallway.
“And I need a couple strong backs to clear the driveway. Eli! Logan!”
Logan’s head pops up immediately. “Yep—on it, Herb.”
Eli collapses forward dramatically. “Dad… we just sat down.”
“And you’ll sit again when my drive doesn’t look like a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
Logan nudges him. “Come on, old man. I’ll do the heavy lifting. Wouldn’t want you throwing your back out.”
Eli mutters darkly, but stands, shooting Tamara a look so dramatic she could frame it. She just lifts her wine in a silent toast to his suffering.
