“I figured you were busy.”
She shrugs. “I don’t mind helping.”
Daisy doesn’t press for information. Within minutes, she organizes us and creates three separate spots for items we’ll toss, donate, or keep. She plays some classic rock from her phone to lighten the mental load, and we tear through half the room in less than an hour.
“Oh mygod,” Daisy says, pulling a piece of fabric off of something in the corner. “This chair. Max, do you remember this chair?”
I peer around a small mountain of boxes and see Daisy plop onto my burnt orange barstool. She was with me when I thrifted it—a strange squiggly-shaped seat that looked like a padded curlicue. Despite the heinous design, it was comfortable.
“Sit in this.” Daisy gets up and makes room for Ava, whoooohsthe second her butt hits the chair.
“Want it?” I ask my sister.
“Seriously?”
“Consider it yours.”
“Ohmygosh yes!” She runs and almost knocks me over with a bear hug. My attention flashes to Daisy, whose gaze is on us as the sides of her mouth tilt upward.
“So,” my sister continues, “what other stuff of yours can I have?”
Ava and I sort out which furniture we’ll donate and which we’ll take to her room. I love that some of this is going right back to my parents, but more importantly, Ava seems excited to redesign.
“You’re not keeping much,” Daisy says, pointing to the small pile of items deemed both worthy and easy enough to hang onto.
“Not flush with extra space at the moment.”
“Store it at The Mirage. The barn has lots of room.”
“That’s…” The barn would make life easier, even if the solution is merely a Band-Aid. My reunion with Daisy wasn’t as joyous as I’d imagined it would be, though, so her offer gives me pause. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m happy to.” She gives me a soft smile that makes my pulse jolt. “You helped me with the Hollises.”
“And then you bought me beer and tater tots as a thank you.”
“The tots were from Sal.”
“What about these bins?” Ava asks me.
“Looks like it’s all clothes, so donate.”
“Oh,” Daisy says with a gasp and beelines to Ava, who is pulling items from the box like a magician producing scarves from their ear. “Youcannotdonate this hat.” Daisy throws on an old newsboy cap I wore in high school, and there’s a comfort in seeing her wear something I used to love so much. “You tried so hard to make this a thing.”
“Excuse me,” I say, feigning offense. “It was one hundred percent a thing.”
“Were these seriously your jeans?” Ava holds up some denim. “These areso small.”
Self-consciousness clutches my insides. While I appreciate the help from Ava and Daisy, I want to blindfold them so they don’t see the remnants of a dorky eighteen-year-old Max.
“Your brother was a Doberman puppy,” Daisy says, fondness in her voice. “Paws too big for its body. All limbs.”
“Aw, well, at least puppies are cute, right Daze?” Ava asks.
Daisy glances my way but says nothing. Instead, she gives a barely audiblemhmmas a response and reaches into another bin.
Once we’ve organized everything, we swing by the thrift store first. When we stop by my parents’ house with the items Ava will keep, she immediately starts moving furniture around in her room. Daisy and I haul the rest of my things to The Mirage alone.
“That’s it,” I announce, setting the heavy box of canvases down as carefully as I can. “Wow, this…” Examining the barn, I nod.
