Inés stares daggers at Harold, which might make me worry about their marital bliss if this were not always how they’ve interacted the entire time I’ve known them. “Well,someonespent nearly all of the rest of our travel budget on a massive urn at an auction in Genoa,” she says, “so we’d already decided to cut the trip short by the time Francis got in touch.”
“It was Meissen!” Harold protests. “Here, Callahan, I’ll show you. You’ll agree with me that it was actually a real steal—”
I hold up my hand. “Later.” Because yeah, I do want to see it. Just not right now. “Look, I don’t know what Fran told you, but I’m okay. I’m doing great, actually.”
They both counter my assertion with expressions that prompt me to seek out my reflection in the window.
I take in my stringy hair, unshaved face, the dark crescents under my eyes, a pink silk bathrobe that Annie left behind hanging open over my rattiest undershirt and boxer briefs.
Oh. Okay. Yeah, no, I can see why that wasn’t convincing.
“This is completely unnecessary,” I grumble. “I already know what you’re going to say.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Harold challenges.
I take a deep breath. “You don’t want this for me, and more importantly, Graham wouldn’t have wanted this for me. That you know I’ve been trying so hard to uphold Graham’s legacy, except it was never the business like I thought, it was me living my life in whatever way will make me happiest.I’mhis true legacy,and the only way I could disappoint him would be if I let love slip through my hands in the name of clinging to something that’s no longer my purpose.” Inés’s lips part, as if she’s going to speak, but I cut her off, continuing, “And that my heart isn’t an eighteenth-century settee or a Memphis Milano teapot. It’s more like a dingy old painted window screen, its value in its endless potential for rebirth into whatever it’s meant to be next. Which is Annie’s. My heart is meant to be Annie’s.”
There’s a moment of silence before Harold says, “I mean,Iwas just going to tell you you’re being a real dumbass and to cut it out. But all that sounds about right too.”
“Great. Thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go shower and start thinking about how to prove to your niece that there’s no one in the entire universe I could ever want even half as much as I want her. Nice to see you guys. Love you very much. Happy Thanksgiving, and congrats again on the marriage. Please show yourselves out.”
I’m in my room, about to close the door behind me, when I hear Inés back in the living room say cheerfully, “I think that went very well.”
THIRTY-SIX
Annie
Five months later…
“She simply doesnotsleep,” Bridget complains, her voice on the verge of breaking. “The pediatrician says it’s okay, that she’s healthy and growing and all that. But I just worry so much that I’m doing something wrong and—”
“You are doing great,” I assure her. “Maeve just inherited her aunt Annie’s tendencies toward both occasional streaks of insomnia and constantly frustrating you, is all.”
My sister lets out a sound that I think is a laugh, though as sleep-deprived as she is, it comes out as more of a quiet hum. I spent some time at her house on Long Island in the days immediately after she gave birth, mostly doing dishes and laundry and politely ignoring her whenever she’d spontaneously burst into postpartum hormone-induced tears. Then our parents were there for a week after I left. But now it’s just Bridget and Eduardo and I think the idea of being alone with Maeve is freaking them both out a bit. I’m sure I would be freaked out too if I hadto keep a tiny, brand-new human alive while also trying to take care of my own still-healing body while exhausted.
“I can come stay for another week or two,” I offer. It will put me behind schedule in getting my new shop up and running before the tourists start flooding into town for the summer, but Bridget is my sister, and Maeve is my niece, and they are slightly more important to me than my business goals. Slightly.
It felt not only natural but imperative to throw myself into making this dream of mine a reality without any further delay. I mentally organized everything I’d need to do during my drive back home to keep from crying the entire three hours. Before even going to my apartment, I stopped at my dad’s friend’s real estate office and asked about local storefronts for rent. Everything moved relatively quickly from there, and now I’m on schedule to open in just a couple weeks.
But I can and will adjust for Bridget and Maeve if I need to.
Still, I have to admit my relief outweighs my disappointment when she says, “No. It’s fine. I know you’re busy with the store. Besides, women have been doing this forever, and often under much more challenging conditions. I’ve got this.”
“You do.” I nod to myself in approval at the recitation of what has become her personal maxim over the last few weeks as I unbox another taxidermy squirrel Beau sent for me to sell on consignment. This one is supposed to be Tippi Hedren inThe Birds, complete with attacking crows, and it’s absurd enough that I’m pretty sure it’s going to sell instantly. Hell, I’m almost tempted to purchase it myself.
“Thanks, Annie,” Bridget says softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Probably a jig, since you’d get all of Mom and Dad’s money when they die instead of having to split it fifty-fifty.”
She lets out that tired laugh again. “Woo-hoo, a whole two hundred dollars all to myself.”
“Now go hand that beautiful baby off to Ed for a while and take a freaking nap,” I order. “I’ll call you later tonight and if you haven’t slept at least three hours total by then, I’m gonna come up there and kick your ass.”
“I’d like to see you try,” she retorts.
“Pshh. Yeah, okay. I know you’re still wearing those weird mesh diapers,” I taunt.
“Yeah, which will make it even more embarrassing when I destroy you.”
