Sixty-three years of sass and salt in a five-foot package, Hestia Brandeau was as energetic as a woman half her age—and twice as surly since she needed a hip replaced. Surgery was in a matter of days, and it was hanging over the household like a wet cloud.
“Coming!” Ellie sang out as she poured a cup for Hestia and shoved the second tray of scones into the oven.
A piping hot scone in one hand and coffee in the other, Ellie climbed up to the third floor where Hestia was propped up like a Victorian regent in a bed that was so immense that it had to be assembled inside the bedroom.
“Scones already…?” Hestia eyed the plate.
“My, what big eyes you have,” Ellie teased, wiggling the scone.
“Not your granny, you beastly child.” Hestia grabbed the dark wood cane beside the bed and made to stand up. “If you won’t hand it over, I’ll go get my own damned scone.”
“Nope.” Ellie was there beside her in an instant. “Do you want to fall again?”
“No. Iwantto be on my feet in my own damn kitchen, but I’ll settle for that scone and a cup of black coffee,” Hestia grumbled.
Ellie handed her the breakfast and then went over to the recliner by the window. It was burgundy toned, like the curtains on Hestia’s ornate bed.
“Almost there,” Ellie reminded them both.
A few days until surgery. Then recovery… At least three months of Hestia testing the rules, and Ellie trying to convince her parental figure that notallrules were meant to be broken.
Hestia had raised her since Ellie’s parents had died, but she wasn’t a rule-follower by nature. Ellie had started filling that role for both of them by the time she was in her twenties—and Hestia had started testing any and every rule Ellie tried to impose.
Ellie took a long moment before saying, “If you fall down the stairs because you’re being impatient, you’re going to be sleeping in one of those rental hospital beds. That’s the deal. You promised you’d follow the rules if I agreed to not rent one.”
At that, Hestia cackled. There was no other word for it. The elegant little woman in her red damask four-poster Jacobean bed with its ornately carved posts and thick canopy cackled like a wily old witch.
“You’re my favorite niece,” Hestia said once her cackling subsided. “Lord knows, no one else in this world ever had the gumption to stand up to me.”
Ellie smiled, despite best efforts. “I’m youronlyniece, and you are a cantankerous old goat.”
“You’re no fun, El.” Hestia sighed. “When I was your age—”
“You were just as feisty as now, dating all over, but free as a bird,” Ellie finished.
“Don’t you want more out of life?” Hestia’s teasing faltered. “A woman to settle down with…”
“Hestia.” Ellie rubbed her temples. Sure, shewantedthat—a great sweep-her-off-her-feet romance—but it wasn’t in the cards. Not for her. She lived a quiet life in a quiet town with an elderly relative. It wasn’t exactly prime conditions for romance. “I don’t need that right now.”
“Well,Ido. Maybe we could go into Pittsburgh to a singles bar when I’m on my feet again.” Hestia grabbed her laptop, presumably to start researching bars.
“I swear I’ll take away the internet one of these days.” Ellie ran downstairs to pull the second set of scones out of the oven.
The truth of the matter was that sometimes, when Ellie was alone and thinking about the future, she wondered what was left for her. Was thisit? Would she grow old with her aunt as her whole life? There were no advancements to be had in the library, beyond the occasional pay bump, and she had no hobbies other than researching missing people.
She lived a life of stasis. Quiet. Mundane.
If I were to vanish or die, would anyone other than Hestia even give me a second thought?
That thought stung. She wanted something more—a woman who made her heart race and her words tangle. A romance that was book-worthy, dramatic and exciting. To have that meant being someone else, someone not mundane and uninteresting. So Ellie chose safety over dreams. Over and over.
It’s better this way.
A few hours later, Ellie was still pondering her place in the world as she drove to work at the Ligonier Public Library. After Ellie’s parents had died, Hestia had gone from field archaeologist to part-time teaching while writing cozy mysteries and the occasional romance that she passed out like Halloween treats at every possible chance. She’d rearranged her life so as to be both mother and father to a child who was anything but easy at the time.
How could Ellie even think about moving away or finding a relationship now that Hestia needed her? Sixty-three wasn’told,but it was old enough that Hestia sometimes needed help.
So Ellie got a degree by commuting the hour and change into Pittsburgh. She eventually got a job in Ligonier. She stayed home or worked. Sure, there were occasional flings over in Greensburg or in Pittsburgh, but nothing that could become serious and result in Ellie moving.
