My mother made a strangled noise.
Dad squeezed her hand. “We’ve hired a service.”
“Well, they won’t be going in Sean’s room.” He was my brother. My twin. There was no chance I would let “a service” near his things. “I’ll do it.”
“That isn’t such a good idea.”
“You’re right. It sucks. Letting strangers touch his stuff sucks worse.”
“Sara.” Mom’s lips trembled. “It’ll be too hard on you.”
Yes, it would. I’d do it anyway. “I’ll ask Lacey and Kimberley to help.”
Mom jumped to her feet and hurried from the room.
“Princess, you don’t have to do this.”
“The decision’s been made.” I had to get out of here. Rising, I grabbed my keys and headed for my car. Maybe if I drove long enough, I could pretend that I wasn’t about to say good-bye to a big part of my past.
After an hour of aimless wandering, I found myself pulling into a parking space in front of the bookstore/coffee shop where Lacey worked. I could see her moving about The Reading Corner half of the store, assisting customers. Kimberley would likely be hanging out in the other half until her boyfriend ended his shift as a barista.
My hands gripped the steering wheel as I considered what to do next. The Sara I’d become after my brother’s diagnosis had grown accustomed to handling life on her own. I’d fallen out of practice with asking people for help—if I’d ever known how.
Hold on. Lacey and Kimberley weren’t random people; they were my friends. There was no reason to feel nervous about needing them.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I slid from the car and entered The Java Corner. I was right about Kimberley. She sat on the old leather sofa, reading something on her iPad and sipping from a mug. Mason had a protective eye on her from his place behind the counter.
“Hi, Sara. A large decaf?”
I nodded. “Lots of cream.”
Kimberley patted the spot beside her. When I plopped down, she slid an arm over my shoulders and squeezed. “How are you?”
“Okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
My friend might have problems with her short-term memory, but there was nothing wrong with her ability to read people’s moods. “I have some news, but I’d like Lacey to hear it, too.”
“I’m not sure if she’s here today.” Kimberley’s face clouded. She glanced anxiously at Mason.
“She is,” he said, handing over my mug. “Would you like for me to get her?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll trade places with her while you talk.” He leaned over, pressed his lips to Kimberley’s, and sauntered through the French doors in the wall separating the two sides of the shop.
I watched her as she watched him, and felt something soften inside me. Kimberley had gotten very close to my brother in the final weeks before cancer claimed him, but it was hard to know what she remembered. How would she react to my request?
Lacey came in, pushed a chair closer to the sofa, and sat. “What’s up?”
“My parents are selling the house.”
They both gasped.
“Yeah, I was kind of shocked, too.”
“Are they moving out of Magnolia Grove?” Kimberley asked.
