“I've had a lot of therapy.”
Lauren laughed. “Haven't we all.”
The morning passed in controlled chaos. Since Maggie was selling most of the furniture, the movers carried only a few pieces out the front door while Grandma Sarah supervised each one. Boxes were checked and double-checked. Eloise was fed and changed and fed again.
By mid-morning, the truck was nearly loaded. Christopher and Becca's furniture, the boxes of keepsakes from the attic, Grandma Sarah's chair, and various items the others had claimed throughout the week. The house was starting to look bare, the walls showing faded rectangles where pictures had hung, the floors revealing marks where furniture had stood for decades.
The movers finished loading and came to the door for finalsignatures. Christopher handled the paperwork while Becca gathered their things for the drive.
The moving truck rumbled to life and pulled out of the driveway, taking with it the physical remnants of the Wheeler family's years in this house. They all stood on the porch watching it go, a strange mix of relief and sadness settling over the group.
Michael's SUV pulled up to the curb just as the truck disappeared around the corner. He climbed out and surveyed the scene, hands in his pockets.
“Looks like I timed it right,” he said.
“Your timing is impeccable as always,” Lauren said.
“Traffic on 93. You know how it is.”
“I know you use that excuse for everything.”
“Because it's always true.”
Before more goodbyes could begin, another car appeared at the end of the street. Beth's car pulled into the driveway, and she climbed out carefully, still moving slowly from the delivery.
“You didn't think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye, did you?” she said to Christopher.
Christopher's face softened. “You should be resting.”
“I'll rest when I'm dead. Or when the twins are teenagers. Whichever comes first.” She stopped in front of him. “Walk me to the tree?”
CHAPTER 27
They walked together to the old maple in the front yard, the one Christopher used to climb when he was a boy. The others stayed by the porch, giving them space.
Maggie watched as they stood facing each other under the bare branches, and even from a distance, she could see the weight of the moment in their postures. She turned away, giving them privacy.
Under the maple tree, Christopher looked at his little sister and tried to find the words.
“So,” he said.
“So,” Beth echoed.
“This is weird.”
“Very weird.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the March wind stirring the bare branches above them. Beth pulled her jacket tighter around herself, and Christopher resisted the urge to give her his, the way he had when they were children and she had forgotten hers.
“Remember when you used to follow me everywhere?” he said. “You were like a little shadow. Drove me crazy.”
“You loved it.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did. You used to slow down so I could keep up. You thought I didn't notice, but I did.”
Christopher smiled despite himself. “You had short legs. Someone had to accommodate.”
