“Go on.”
“I’m pulling a few overnights this weekend at the hospital,” she says.“Would you mind pet-sitting Buster?He doesn’t mind his alone time during the day, but he needs a cuddler at night.”
She gives me a pathetic puppy-dog face to drive home her plea.
“He’s an angel, promise.I’d ask Gil, but Seagrove’s an hour round-trip, so it’s tricky to coordinate.Besides, I want to pop in on breaks for a cuddle, too.”
Having never cared for an animal before, I’m reluctant.But the quiet house and expected lonely nights tip the balance in Buster’s favor.How hard could it be?“Will you provide detailed written instructions on his care?”
“Absolutely!And I’ll bring over all his favorite toys and treats.He’ll adore getting to know his Auntie Vee.”
“Fine.I accept.”
She jumps, squeals, and hugs me at once.“Yay!You’re going to have the best time together.Just don’t go falling in love with him—I’ll want him back.”
“That won’t be a problem,” I assure her.
Finally overrun with what Ivy calls Good Sister Vibes, I leave for Henry’s place.
CHAPTER24
Henry
Uncle Jay’swooden blue jay stares at me with its black eyes that seem to bleed into the band around its chest.Its high head crest makes it look kingly, like it might be judging me or, at the very least, sizing me up.The last time I saw the bird was yesterday, when Mr.Massie pointed it out beside the cash register in the foyer.Now, it’s on my desk atop my composition notebook.
Did I mindlessly bring it upstairs?I don’t know, but I’m a grown man, a father, and far too old and busy to get the creeps.
Instead, I sit down, move it aside, and fill page after page of my new journal, pouring my heart out about Venus.
I never stopped being your friend, Henry.
Her words have inspired a flurry of memories and regrets.I stopped being her friend more times than I can count.
In third grade, when she came to school with her butt covered in mud.Everyone called her Mud-Butt, and though I didn’t join in, I did nothing to stop it either.
In the sixth grade, when she announced her period to the entire class after our teacher refused to let her use the bathroom.
In ninth grade, when some girls slipped her a secret love note from a popular upperclassman.Venus confronted him in the cafeteria, and though she politely refused him, not knowing the letter was fake, he made fun of her in front of everyone.“I’dneverwant someone like you,”he shouted.I didn’t defend her.
Then, there was the flytrap debacle.And probably hundreds of small chinks in her armor that I don’t know about, or was too selfish to notice, or too afraid to act on.She never stopped being my friend, but she should have.
The doorbell rouses me from my pity party.I race downstairs, taking two at a time, and end up needing my inhaler before I reach the door.
Venus stands on the other side, carrying a plastic tub of loose, leaning plants that serve as a barrier between us.
“I’m here to install the garden,” she says, unnecessarily, “so, please direct me to the location, and I’ll get started.”
“Hi,” I blurt with an awkward smile.“Are you okay?”
“Fine, thank you,” she says, robotically, before adding, “Hi.”
She offers a weak smile.My heart dips in my chest at how fast it fades.
“Um, come in.May I take that for you?”I ask, holding the door open.
“I’ve got it.”
I lead her through the main museum to a wide staircase with a thick mahogany bannister that curls at the end, and red carpeting.Marnie insisted on keeping it this way for its antique vibe.Admittedly, it looks like something out ofGone with the Wind.
