I nearly fell off the ladder. "I’m sorry, yourwhat?"
Pops looked up at me, amused by my shock. "My daughter. Elise. She’s thirty-two, lives in Denver, works for some tech company doin' things I don't understand involving 'clouds' that aren't in the sky."
"You have a daughter." I said it slowly, testing the words. "A whole entire daughter that no one mentioned for three weeks?"
"Well, she’s not a secret. Just hasn't been able to visit much lately 'cause of work. But she’s takin' some time off, gonna come stay for a few weeks."
"Does Winnie know?"
"'Course she knows. They talk on the phone every week. Elise is comin' down to help with the regional competition prep—she used to compete herself before she moved to the city. Taught Winnie everything she knows."
I climbed the rest of the way into the attic, my mind spinning. "Okay, but like... why did I think you only had Winnie? Has she mentioned Elise and I just blocked it out?"
"Might've been focused on other things," Pops called up diplomatically. "Like not dyin' from manual labor."
"Fair point."
The attic was hot and dusty despite the cleaning Winnie and I had done a week ago. It smelled of cedar and old paper. Pops pointed out what he needed from below—three boxes labeledElise's Roomand a wooden crate full of framed photos—and I started hauling them toward the ladder.
"So Elise is Winnie's... aunt? No, wait—" I did the math in my head as I shifted a heavy box.
"Winnie’s my granddaughter," Pops clarified. "Legally adopted, but she's mine in every way that counts. Elise is my daughter by blood. They’re technically aunt and niece, but they grew up more like sisters. Only about eight years between 'em."
"And Elise is coming here. Soon."
"Two weeks."
"Does she know about me?"
Pops chuckled. "Oh, she knows. Winnie told her all about the city boy who showed up in designer boots and couldn't tell a rooster from a chicken."
"I knew the difference! Pickles is just unusually terrifying! He has the soul of a velociraptor!"
"Uh-huh. Well, Elise is lookin' forward to meetin' you. Said anyone who can survive three weeks here and still show up for work must have somethin' to 'em."
I carefully lowered a box down to him, watching how he caught it with one hand while bracing against the wall with the other. The knee was definitely bothering him more than he wanted to admit.
"You should tell Winnie," I said, pausing before grabbing the next one. "About the knee. Seriously."
"And have her try to do everything herself? No thanks."
"She’s going to notice eventually."
"Eventually ain't today." He set the box down with a slight grunt. "Besides, I got you now. Between the two of us, we can handle the heavy stuff without her overtaxin' herself."
Something warm settled in my chest at that—the casual way he'd saidI got you now, like I was part of the team. Part of the solution instead of the problem.
A rare win for Beau Sterling.
"Yeah, okay. I can do that."
We spent the next hour moving boxes and setting up Elise's room—a bright space at the front of the house with windows overlooking the south pasture. Pops directed while I did the heavy lifting, and we fell into an easy rhythm.
"She’s gonna want to reorganize everything," Pops said, watching me arrange photos on the dresser. "Always does. Says I got no sense of aesthetic."
"Do you?"
"Absolutely not. But things are where I can find 'em, and that’s what matters."
