There was a television and VCR combo against the wall. In front of it sat Pop’s tattered brown plaid recliner. Covered in a thick layer of dust, it didn’t stop her from feeling the worn arms and imagining him in it, watching his news after dinner. No matter what was to come, she knew it couldn’t compete with years, memories, or the love that bonded them to one another. Still, she couldn’t escape the hollow feeling that now resided in the pit of her stomach. If Daisy was right, then the image of the family she held so dear would fall like a house of cards. And she was afraid she might too.
She lowered herself onto the arm of the recliner and pressed play on the remote. There they were, the most important people inher life, minus her dad. They were walking out of a church with elevator music playing in the background. The pace was enhanced and edited to reveal only the highlights with no real conversation or voices. It was better that way. Hearing their voices would squeeze her heart like a vice. She looked over at Harry, still in the same spot.
The next scene was of Lil, Gran, Pop, and her mother, Rose, in the garden. Her pop was twirling Rose in her white communion dress, trying to persuade a smile. She seemed upset about something. Dahlia leaned forward, trying to see their expressions through the grainy screen. Gran looked fine, but Lil wasn’t smiling and seemed concerned, which was so unlike her. If there was one consistent thing everyone knew about Lil, it was that she was never without a smile.
A strong voice from below called up. “Anyone home?” By the way Harry was wagging his tail, she knew it was Noah.
Dahlia’s body felt lighter as if someone had lifted an anchor that was shackled to her feet. “Up here,” she called in a hoarse tone.
“Hey, whatcha doing? I was calling you for a while,” he said, greeting Harry. “Hi, boy.” He reached for Dahlia’s waist and kissed her tenderly. It was a kiss that said he’d missed her. She wanted to lean into this moment with him, maybe even christen the attic, but she was too distracted.
“Sorry, I’ve been up here trying to get some answers.” She quickly explained the note in the book from earlier, and her suspicions, but kept Daisy’s discovery to herself.
“So, did Gretchen like the cabinet?” Dahlia asked.
“She loved it,” he said, his eyes perusing the perimeter. “I think Gretchen was hoping you’d be with me. Maybe Thursday or Friday this week, you could stop by?” Noah asked, inspecting the chess set. “Wow, there’s a lot of great stuff up here.”
“Sure,” she said, staring at the abyss of junk, feeling her eyes glaze over. “I’ve really got to come up with a plan for all this stuff.”
“This stuff is priceless. You’re not going to get rid of it, are you?” he asked.
“I have no clue.” Dahlia shook her head. “Oh, by the way, the siding looks amazing. You left before it dried, but the cedar shake looks brand new. Thanks for doing that.” She felt a tug at her heart, knowing he’d just increased the probability of a quick sale.
“Oh, man, is that a dartboard?” he asked, briskly walking toward it, stepping on a creaky board. He stopped and bounced on it. “I can fix this.”
She wanted to say, “Your only job for the rest of the night is to distract me,” but instead settled for “You’re off duty.”
“I’m never off duty. I have my tool bag in the car,” he said, bending down to get a closer look.
At that moment, he wasn’t a reality star, instead just a regular guy she was falling for who was exceptionally good with his hands—in many ways. A guy who, apparently, fancied being in an attic on a random Monday night and not back in the city with the rest of his friends.
“You’re my handy hero, always there to save the day.”
“Hardy-har,” he said, glancing up with his bright eyes. “But it does have a nice ring to it. I think I’ll get a T-shirt made.”
Dahlia laughed for the first time in hours, imagining it. She was glad he was there. He was the only person besides Kara who could cheer her up—which reminded her that she needed to call her. What happened last night deserved an actual phone conversation. Maybe when Kara got back from the long weekend away.
“There’s something under here,” Noah said, poking at the floorboard.
She looked over his shoulder. “It’s white. Maybe it’s a piece of paper or something.”
“Want me to lift it up?”
“Hells yeah.”
“Okay, we just need something to lift the wood. I can’t squeeze my fingers in there.”
Fingers. The word lodged in her brain. She couldn’t help but stare at his thick, magical digits that made her feel all sorts of unladylike things this morning.
“How about scissors?” she asked,
“Yeah, that might work. Otherwise, I’ll run to my truck.”
“I saw a pair around here somewhere.” Her eyes scanned the shelves on the walls, and bingo. “Got them.”
He opened the blades and used them to elevate the plank.
She slid her hand under and pulled out a yellowed envelope. “I think it’s a letter.” She carefully opened it. “It’s typed.”Lil would never type a letter, she thought.
