He squatted, bringing our faces to the same level. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
His persistence was unexpected and incredibly nice. “No, but thanks.”
“The offer’s open.” He grinned. “Any time you feel like talking, I listen very well.”
His smile was infectious. I couldn’t help returning it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“If you think of something, I’ll be here on Friday.”
“What are you doing on Friday?”
His eyes narrowed. “We’re mulching the beds.”
Unease tickled at me. “It seems like that just happened a couple of months ago.”
“Yeah. We’re doing it again.”
That was weird. “Did my parents say why?”
“You should ask them.” He rose and slipped on his shades. “Nice to see you, Sara.” With a nod, he sauntered away.
I pushed off the swing and traded the humid heat of the outdoors for the cool of the house. Once in the family room, I looked around indecisively. There was something that Scott had hinted at, something I ought to know. Should I quiz my dad? Question my mom?
Aaannnddd the answer to both questions wasNo. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
3
An Electric Excitement
My mother had opened her fashion and home décor consignment shop nine months ago as a distraction from the turmoil of my brother’s illness. It had proved to be a brilliant idea. Vendors sought us out. Customers were steady and loyal.
And the Tuckers? We would have fractured without it, individually and as a family. My parents liked being out front, serving people. I enjoyed all parts of the business, even running reports, mining data, and intaking new stock—tasks that were long overdue since I’d been gone for a week.
When I entered our business office on Thursday, Mom was seated at the desk, absorbed by something on the laptop.
“Hi,” I said.
She jerked at the sound of my voice and clicked down the browser. “Mornin’.” Her voice was thick with tears.
Stepping behind her, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pressed my cheek to hers. It was wet. She’d seemed fine yesterday. What had happened?
“Mom...” I couldn’t think of how to comfort her.
“I know. It’s hard.” She patted my hand clumsily.
It’s hard?That was as close as she’d come in a while to acknowledging the topic we all avoided. “Yeah, it is.”
“What will you work on today?”
“Making sure our accounts are caught up.”
“Splendid,” she said with forced cheerfulness and pulled out of my arms. “It’s time to open the shop. I’ll get out of your way.”
She wasn’t in my way, but I understood. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
I went home four hours later, ate a protein bar, then opted for an afternoon nap, lying curled on my duvet.
