Creepy or efficient? I was going with efficient. “You may read mine when we’re in here. I’d rather not talk.”
“Certainly.”
“You won’t tell anyone what you see inside my head?”
“Utterly confidential. We have mistress/genie privilege in place.”
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Any other superhero capabilities I should know about?”
“I can run for long distances at great speed.”
“Don’t think I’ll need that.”
“My senses are more acute than yours.”
“As in what?”
“My senses of sight, taste, smell, hearing, and touch. All far superior.”
“That could be useful.”
“For me, perhaps. I cannot fathom how it might benefit you.”
My smile widened. “Okay. Let’s tackle the closet.”
My brother had owned a dozen pairs of Levi’s. Same style. Same blue, in various stages along the faded spectrum. There were also sweats and shorts. All giveaways.
He had a huge collection of shirts. Polos and plaids. T-shirts from concerts, races, and science fairs.
“Sara, the Keep stack has grown quite large.”
I bit my lip. Yes, it had. I cut Grant a sideways glance. “Can you translate your comment into something less diplomatic?”
“Select one or two items that you cannot bear to part with, and give the rest to someone who could benefit from the remarkable quality of these clothes.”
He made sense. I wasn’t sure that it mattered. “You haven’t saidit’s what your brother would’ve wanted.”
“I shall never use that phrase. You know better than anyone else what Sean would have wanted.”
Wow.Thank you, Grant.
The leather jacket stayed. The red shirt my brother wore to his graduation party. His Commander Scott Kelly T-shirt. And the dark brown tuxedo with its coordinating ivory silk shirt. I had no need for the tux, but I would never allow anyone else to wear it. It had to stay.
Everything else—given away.
Grant emerged from the closet with a trash bag full of shoes. “Shall I toss these?”
“Not the red ones.” Converse high-tops in cardinal red. Yup. They might spend the rest of their lives in a trunk, but they were keepers.
It took us most of the morning to sort the clothes, but at last, the Keep carton was tucked neatly into a corner of the attic, and the Giveaway cartons were stacked in the garage.
I made us both glasses of lemonade and collapsed on a bar stool.
“How are you, Sara?”
“Glad the ordeal is over.” I laid my head on the granite countertop. It felt cool against my aching head. Closing my eyes, I mumbled, “I think I’ll take a nap.”
“You will escort me to the park.”
