I made a wounded sound. "I'm not the dream-killer. I'm the realist who didn't want a terrified garter snake loose in my house."
A little lightness crept into the air. Small as it was, I'd take it.
The truck took a hard right turn out of the main drag, up toward the cabins strung along the creek. Our home for the next, well, who knew how long. I'd signed the lease for six months, but if things worked out, I wanted to buy a house. Maybe a fixer-upper, something with a porch and a little bit of land. I'd squirreled away the money from selling Gran's place for years, letting it grow with the market. The proceeds sat untouched in a savings account, waiting for the right moment.
One day, I'd give these girls a forever home.
For now, we had a three-bedroom rental, seven minutes from town and fifty-five from my office in Knoxville if I needed to go in. Nothing fancy. Just a sturdy cabin with a metal roof and a broad deck out back. But we'd have our own slice of woods. No more neighbors fighting at two in the morning, no more car alarms, no more traffic headaches.
I'd take some peace and quiet. Maybe Fifi could, too.
The last year had been rough on her. The anxiety had started at twelve and ramped up every semester. Then last year, the bullying got mean. It crept in with the locker graffiti, the notes left in textbooks, the suddencold shoulders in the hallway. We tried everything, meetings with the principal, emails with teachers, even a peer mediation counselor, but it only made things worse for Fifi. Like they'd singled her out for caring too much and not fitting in.
Mere was better at blending in. She had friends, or at least enough people on her side to buffer the worst of the social fallout. Fifi never figured out that trick. She went from the loud, reach-for-everything kid who cannonballed into the deep end, to someone who measured every word, eyes always scanning for incoming meanness.
When Fifi's therapist had suggested a "fresh setting, preferably close to nature," I wasn't surprised. I'd seen how she unwound outdoors. She hiked for hours without complaint, sat by rivers scribbling stories in battered notebooks, and seemed lighter in the woods than in any classroom.
I wanted her to have that back. Mere needed space too, but mostly, I wanted them both to feel safe.
The house came into view at the end of a gravel drive. The creek ran just past the property line, close enough that I could hear water from the porch. Two yards past the steps, and we were surrounded by trees. I pulled in behind the moving truck and killed the ignition.
"Home sweet home," I announced, doing my best to sound like this was the adventure of a lifetime and not just me faking confidence. "All hands on deck. Let's check it out."
Huey, who'd been catatonic in Fifi's lap most of the ride, perked up. Cavapoo senses at full alert. He tripped over his own paws scrambling out of the car.
Fifi slung her backpack over one shoulder, hood pulled up to hide her face. She looked almost grown-up, long and lanky, but as soon as she stood on the path, she moved like she was waiting for a trap. Mere bounced out next. She had a new jacket, marigold yellow, that made her look like a wildflower in the November gloom.
The movers barely glanced at us before starting the unload, which was fine. I liked the anonymity. Let someone else wrestle with the couch while I staged my pep talk.
"Here's the plan," I told them as we hit the porch. "We run a perimeter check, make sure Huey doesn't get eaten by bears, then bags to your rooms. Then Wi-Fi, snacks, and maybe we'll scope out the bakery before they close."
"Do bears really eat dogs?" Fifi's eyebrows shot up. She was being funny, but I could tell she wanted the answer, just in case.
"Not if the dog is inside. Or, you know, bite-sized and annoying." I ruffled Huey's ears as he bee-lined for the yard, nose to the ground.
Meredith did an expert eye roll. "Well, that's comforting." She examined the porch, then eyed the bird feeder hanging from a rafter. "You know, bears can open most feeders. They have, like, super thumbs."
"Good thing we don't have birdseed yet." I unlocked the door and shoved it open with my hip.
Inside, the rental smelled like floor polish and faint pine. The property manager had left all the lights on, so the shadows weren't bad. Bare floors, clean walls. Zero personality, but that would change.
Huey immediately ran inside and started house patrol. He zipped through the front hall, nails clicking. He doubled back, sniffed every corner, and finished by flopping against Fifi's leg as if he'd earned a treat. She knelt to scratch his neck.
"If it passes Huey's test, it has to be good," I said.
We got out of the way as the movers brought in the first of the furniture, and I told them where to put it.
Mere stared into the open living room. "Wow. It's a lot bigger than our old place."
I stood back and let them explore. Sometimes it helped to let them scope things out before I started assigning chores. Mere moved straight for the kitchen,she always did. Peeked in every cabinet, studied the pantry, and made a delighted sound at the sight of a double oven. Fifi hung back, examining the fireplace, then the big window looking out onto the creek.
The movers, old pros, dodged around them, bringing in the labelled boxes.
For a moment, I saw the little girls they used to be, pigtailed, giggling, chasing Huey through the weeds back in the yard at our first apartment. I missed that. Maybe I'd get pieces of it back here.
"Can we see our rooms?" Fifi finally asked, eyes darting.
"Of course. First bedroom up the stairs to the right, second one's at the very end. You two can pick. Whichever you want, just let me know. Mine's behind the kitchen."
