The green shines brighter in her hazel irises as she smiles. "Yeah."
I dip my head, nodding to hide the goofy grin creeping over my face.
My gaze lands on the mug still resting in the palm of my hand. "You know how I take my coffee."
If Liz finds the observation strange, she doesn't say. "Like it or not, I've known you too long not to."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LIZ
It's been three months since the daily routine set in again. Sort of. Both kids were back in school all of a week and a half before summer break hit and they were home all day. Until last Wednesday, when the fall semester started.
I've worked hard to find a blend of habits they had with Lena and new additions to take the sting out of the never-ending knowing that things will never be as they once were.
Where they used to sit on the couch with Trent for cartoons and cereal every morning, now we get up a little earlier and cook breakfast together. The kitchen always looks like a tornado hit after, and I learned the hard way to wait and get them dressed after, but overall, the kids seem to welcome the change.
Things we've kept the same are the voice recorded messages set on their morning alarms. It's a bittersweet thing to hear Lena's voice every morning coaxing them from their sleep, but I'll never stop being in awe of the fact the kids still have this precious piece of her. Some mornings her voice triggers their grief as much as it does mine, but the heartache is part of the healing. No matter how much it hurts, her voice is still the only one who holds the capacity to comfort them through losing her.
While the kids both maintain the chore of watering all of the houseplants before school, I've also tasked Remmi with feeding Harriet her breakfast. A responsibility she was thrilled to embrace, and one Gavin has been envious of ever since. To appease him, I appointed him the door closer on the way out of the house. The job serves two purposes. One, it gives him a sense of importance, and two, it's curbing his bad habit of leaving every door open wherever he goes.
Now that the kids are back in school, I have more than just the hours they sleep to myself. Hours I dedicate to work in the makeshift office and studio I've set up in the master bedroom. The den was too small, and the lighting wasn’t great. But it’s been redesignated as an arts and crafts room for the kids, a space they’ve also been utilizing for schoolwork. Not to mention, Harriet has claimed the space ever since her two-week lockdown. Repurposing that space has served as another little shift from what was, to something new that still feels familiar, thanks to all the family pictures Lena had framed and hung on the wall in here. It was easy enough to take out the old desk and chair, replacing it with my old kitchen table and chairs for the kids, while leaving every smiling face in place.
Meanwhile, adjusting to the master bedroom has been easy for work, but I still struggle to sleep in it despite having removed every last piece of Trent and Lena from the space. Most nights, I still let myself fall asleep on the couch in the living room.
The afternoons are packed full every day of the week. Even the ones the kids spend with Tammy and Abe. Initially, Tammy attempted to lay claim to their Sundays. I refused. But not without making a counter offer she had no choice but to accept.
Remmi and Gavin see their grandparents at least one day a week, but the day is never set, and the children are free to opt out if they want. To say Tammy was furious about my stipulations would be putting it mildly. And she continues to make underhanded attempts to gain more control.
At first, I let it slide, hoping if she felt more secure about her place in their lives, she’d be able to relax. When that didn’t pan out as hoped, I started getting more adamant about my own boundaries and those I’ve set for the kids.
Needless to say, my relationship with their grandmother is as rocky today as it was the day she learned the kids were left in my care. Regardless, I continue to remind myself to make decisions that make sense to me. That feel right for the kids. Tammy’s feelings matter, but she can’t be my priority.
Keeping up with the kids, the house and my business is a dance I'm still learning, but I'm getting there. And I'm not the only one.
After our first meeting three months ago, Jovi dove headfirst into his plans for creating a community rodeo night. Didn't take him long to get the word out and for trailers to start lining up outside the barn every Friday night. Between that, and the few clients Trent had booked already, we were able to cover costs last month after the existing funds ran out.
Over the last three months, we've kept up our weekly check-ins, check-ins we needed more than I thought we would since we cross paths far less than I imagined possible for two people who live on the same property. And share the same laundry room. But Jovi keeps to the barn as much as I keep to the house, and while he makes a daily effort to spend time with the kids, that time is for the three of them and doesn't include me.
Which is fine. Because it gives me another sliver of time to work on my business.
A business that's still struggling to keep its footing since the move. My stock inventory is dwindling with no photoshoots scheduled to create more. And without an established clientele for private sessions, my boudoir photography services have come to a screeching halt, forcing me to shift gears. Which means most of my time is spent brainstorming new ways to bring in clients.
Over the summer, I offered my services at every venue I could find, but Cedar Hill is small and there are two established event photographers. It's a tightknit community, so I'm not surprised people are staying loyal to those they know.
With school starting up again, I made fliers for child and family portraits. All of which can be found all over the kids' school and posted in every community centered group I could find on Facebook. Given the size of this town, there weren't many. But the vast majority of residents are families, so I'm still hopeful.
"Are you still there?" Holly's voice pulls me from my thoughts and my gaze centers on the screen where her face is scowling back at me via Zoom. "I mean, I can see you, but your expression suggests your mind is elsewhere and that I've been talking to myself the last few minutes."
"I'm here," I insist. When her brow crinkles with skepticism, I add, "Now. I'm here now."
"That's what I thought." She chuckles at my expense. "When did you check out? Did you hear the part where I told you I booked a flight and will be there two weeks from today?"
Actually, no. "You're amazing. I can't tell you how much you're saving my ass by coming out here. I promise I'll reimburse you for the flight as soon as I can."
She waves me off. "Don't be crazy. Helping you out is just a lucky byproduct of my visit. The real reason I'm coming is to see all the cowboys that have been gathering at your house every Friday night in all their rough and rugged glory. My flight arrives right around five o’clock. Which means my Uber should be dropping me at your place just in time to see the men in hats roll in."
I laugh. "Since when are you into cowboys?"
