“I’m reading,” she said.
“I know, sweetheart. But I need you to keep Maggie away from the bookshelf while I make a phone call. Can you do that? Maybe you can read to her.”
Sophia considered this with the gravity of a diplomat weighing a peace treaty. “Can I watch The Good Dinosaur?”
“Yes, I’ll put it on for you. You and Maggie can watch it together.”
“Okay.” Sophia took her sister's hand with surprising gentleness. “Come on, Maggie. Let's watch The Good Dinosaur.”
“Arlo!” Little Maggie's face lit up, the bookshelf immediately forgotten. She toddled after her sister toward the corner of the living room where a small aquarium bubbled quietly. Sarah had bought the tank for Sophia's fourth birthday, thinking it would be a simple way to nurture her daughter's love of marine life, something Sarah was sure copied her older brother’s enthusiasm. The only problem was that Sarah hadn’t anticipated how much maintenance a twenty-gallon tank required, or how often she would find herself researching water pH levels at midnight.
With the girls temporarily occupied, Sarah retreated to the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Her grandmother's number glowed on the screen, the missed call from earlier that morning still waiting to be returned. She had been avoiding it, which was childish and she knew it, but sometimes a woman needed a few hours to mentally prepare herself for a conversation with Sarah Garrison.
She loved her grandmother. She truly did. Grandma Sarah was sharp and funny and full of stories that made family gatherings infinitely more entertaining. But she was also relentlesswhen she wanted something, and based on the voicemail she had left, what she wanted was for Sarah to drop everything and drive to Massachusetts in an RV.
The voicemail had been vintage Grandma Sarah. Cheerful but insistent, full of phrases like “family obligation” and “once in a lifetime” and “you'll regret it if you don't come.” She had mentioned Lauren, implied that Sarah's sister was already on board, and ended with “call me back before I have to come over there myself and guilt you in person.”
Sarah sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. Through the doorway, she could see Sophia pointing at the tv screen while Little Maggie smiled with excitement.
The timing could not be worse. Noah had a science fair project due next week that he had barely started. Sophia had a dental appointment on Tuesday. Little Maggie had a well-child visit with the pediatrician on Wednesday. Trevor was slammed at work, trying to finish a landscaping project for a client who kept changing their mind about where they wanted the palm trees. And Sarah herself had three shifts at the Outreach Center this week, including one tonight where she was supposed to help a family navigate the housing assistance application process.
Her life was a carefully constructed tower of responsibilities, and pulling out any single block threatened to bring the whole thing down.
But her sister was about to have twins. Her mother was saying goodbye to the house where she had raised five children. Her grandmother was eighty years old and wanted, more than anything, to be there for all of it.
Sarah picked up the phone and called Lauren.
Her sister answered on the second ring. “Let me guess. Grandma called you too.”
“This morning. I've been avoiding calling her back.”
“Same. I listened to her voicemail three times trying to figure out if there was a polite way to say no.”
“Is there?”
Lauren laughed, but it had a slightly hysterical edge. “I don't think so. You know how she is. She'll just keep calling until we give in, and then she'll remind us about it for the rest of our lives. 'Remember that time I wanted to go to Massachusetts and you almost said no?'”
Sarah walked to the kitchen window and looked out at the backyard. Trevor had installed a swing set last summer, and it stood empty now, waiting for the afternoon when the heat would ease and the children would tumble outside to play.
“How are we supposed to do this?” she asked. “I have the kids, the Outreach Center, a million appointments. You have Olivia's tennis and Lily's recital. We can't just pack up and leave for a week.”
“Jeff said he could manage.” Lauren's voice was uncertain, like she was still convincing herself. “He took the week off already because we were planning to go to Beth's after the babies were born. He figured we'd fly up. But if we drive with Grandma instead...”
“Then we'd be gone longer. The drive alone is two or three days each way.”
“I know. But Grandma made a good point.” Lauren paused. “She said this might be the last time. The last big family gathering at the Andover house. The last chance to walk through those rooms and remember what it was like when we were kids. If we skip it, we skip it forever.”
Sarah felt something twist in her chest. The Andover house held complicated memories for her. Arguments that leaked through closed doors. The look on her mother's face when she thought no one was watching. The gradual unraveling of a family that had seemed, from the outside, perfectly intact.
But there were good memories too. Birthday parties in the backyard. Snow days when school was canceled and all five of them would build forts in the living room. The smell of hermother's cooking on Sunday afternoons. The way her father used to read to them before bed, doing different voices for each character.
Daniel Wheeler had not been a perfect man. His affairs had caused pain that rippled through the family for years. But he had also been her father, and the house in Andover was where she had learned what it meant to be part of something larger than herself.
“Do you think Devon would take the kids?” she asked slowly.
“He’s already offered. Trevor’s going to think I’ve lost my mind.”
“Does that mean you're considering it?”
