“It might mean taking time off work. Or rearranging your schedule.”
“Lauren, I'll make it work.” He looked at Maggie. “We'll makeit work. You shouldn't have to worry about any of this from Florida.”
Maggie felt tears threaten again. Her children taking care of her. Taking care of each other. This was what she had raised them for, even if she hadn't known it at the time.
“Thank you,” she said. “Both of you. That means more than you know.”
“It's what family does,” Michael said simply. “Now, where are we? What have I missed?”
“We're about to tackle the upstairs,” Christopher said, “The bedrooms and the attic.”
“The attic.” Michael whistled low. “That's going to be an adventure.”
“That's one word for it,” Sarah said.
“I was thinking 'archaeological dig,'” Lauren added.
“Or 'therapy session,'” Chelsea offered.
“All of the above,” Maggie said. “Come on. Let's get this over with.”
They climbed the stairs single file, the old wood creaking under their feet. Becca and Eloise, who had fallen asleep on her mother’s shoulder, stayed downstairs.
Four bedroom doors. One bathroom. And at the end of the hall, the narrow door that led to the attic stairs.
“Should we do bedrooms first or attic?” Sarah asked.
“Attic,” Christopher said. “Get the hard part over with.”
No one argued.
The attic stairs were steep and narrow, unchanged since the house was built in 1952. Maggie went first, pulling the string that turned on the single bare bulb, and emerged into the space that had become the repository for everything the Wheeler family couldn't bear to throw away.
It was overwhelming.
Boxes stacked on boxes, labeled in Maggie's careful handwriting. Christmas decorations. Baby clothes. Tax returns 1995-2000.School projects. Photo albums. More boxes unlabeled, their contents a mystery even to her.
“Oh my goodness,” Lauren breathed, emerging behind her. “I forgot how much stuff was up here.”
“Five children's worth of stuff. I don't even know what half of it is anymore,” Maggie said.
Chelsea had managed to prop the phone up on a box so Beth and Emily could see without someone having to hold it. On the screen, they watched as the family spread out through the attic, each gravitating toward different areas.
“I found my baseball glove!” Christopher held up a worn leather glove, the pocket darkened by years of use. “I thought this was lost forever.”
“It was in a box labeled 'Christopher's room,'” Maggie said. “Where else would it be?”
“I spent two summers looking for this glove.”
“Did you ever think to check the attic?”
“I was twelve. The attic was scary.”
Lauren opened a box near the window and pulled out a diary. She started to read an entry.
“Don't read those!” Sarah lunged toward her sister.
“Too late.”Mrs. Henderson is so boring I want to die. Also, I think Jason Mitchell is cute.Lauren looked up triumphantly. “Jason Mitchell. I totally forgot about Jason Mitchell.”
