“I want to have the final say in whoever buys the house.”
I scoff. “Why? So you can make it impossible for anyone to buy it?”
She can’t even look me in the eyes, which only adds to the hollowness in my chest.
“Because I want to make sure whoever owns it next loves my home as much as I do.”
I instantly feel like a dick for thinking the worst about her. “Lana—”
Her nostrils flare. “Yes or no, Callahan?”
And now we’re back to Callahan.
Lovely.
I nod. “You get the final say, so long as you’re not vetoing potential buyers for no good reason.”
Hopefully I don’t end up regretting my choice.
Lana
I’m starting to wonder if you have a shopping addiction.
She sends me a photo of a box waiting on the porch. I bolt off the couch, scaring Merlin, who wiggles his way underneath the TV stand.
Be there in a few.
My excitement grows with each step I take across the property toward the main house.
Lana stands on the porch, waving at the red-headed mailman as he drives off.
I walk up the steps. “Do you know him?”
“Ernie? Yeah. He’s Isabelle’s son.”
My brows rise. “I’m surprised my packages have arrive undamaged then.”
“Me too. He’s not too happy with you given the thirty packages delivered here in the last few days alone.”
“This is the best one yet.” I lift the heavy box into my arms.
She peeks at the cardboard box. “What is it?”
“A Kees van der Westen Speedster.”
Her brows pull together.
“It’s an espresso machine,” I clarify. Caffeine, Adderall, and I don’t usually mix well. But now that I’m working until late, long after my medicine wears off, I need a little pick-me-up in the afternoons.
She snorts. “Sounds like the name of a car.”
“And costs about the same as a cheap one too.” I give the box a loving pat.
Her eyes widen. “How much did you pay for it?”
“I don’t remember. Twenty thousand, give or take with tax? Why? Do you want one?”
The color drains from her face. “You spent twenty thousand bucks on an espresso machine?”
“I have needs, Lana.”
“So do I, but that’s worth more than half of my yearly salary!”
I rock back on my sneakers. “I know it sounds excessive…”
“That’s because it is.”
“Forgive me for enjoying the finer things in life.”
“It’s your money, so do what you want with it. I’m just surprised anyone would spend that kind of cash on coffee.” Then let us hope she never finds out how much I spent on the new mattress, bed linens, and couch in the guesthouse.
“Please. This is nothing. Wait until you see the state-of-the-art grill I bought.”
She blinks. “You bought a grill knowing you’re only going to be here temporarily?”
“Of course. I thought maybe I could tempt you into making some of your mom’s carne asada one of these days.”
Her mouth drops open.
“It’s a really fancy grill with all the bells and whistles and stuff most chefs drool over. I swear you’ll love it.”
She opens her mouth, only for it to slam shut.
I rub at the back of my neck. “I can cook for you too, although I can’t promise it will be half as good.”
“You would cook for me?”
“You and Cami,” I correct.
Something flashes in her eyes before disappearing.
“You— We…” She rubs her temple in small circles. “You know what? I’m going to wipe this entire conversation from my brain.”
“What did I say?” I reach out for her hand, only to have her step away before I have a chance.
“Nothing. I’ve got to go get Cami ready for her dance class.” Lana disappears back into the house, leaving me to wonder what I said wrong this time.
Story of your life.
I’m bored.
I bounce the tennis ball against the ceiling while I wait for Iris to reply to my message. With the contractor and his team already fixing up the exterior of the house, including replacing the roof, vinyl siding, and old windows, I have nothing else to occupy my time.
Lake Wisteria doesn’t have many options for entertainment. Unless I want to drive thirty minutes away to go see a movie, I am stuck with either bowling by myself, hanging out at the park on the other side of the lake, or spending the rest of my day online shopping.
My phone vibrates against the couch.
Iris
Have you tried picking up a new hobby?
You mean one besides staring at myself in the mirror?
Iris
I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.
Let’s keep it a mystery.
Iris
What about knitting?
Hell no.
Iris
Crocheting?
…
Iris
Reading a book?
Hmm. I haven’t read much since I was a kid, but that seems like a better option than attempting to create something with a ball of yarn.
Any recommendations?
Iris
Let’s ask Zahra.
Iris follows up with a message in the group chat I share with the two of them.
Iris
Do you have any book recommendations for Cal?
I throw my ball against the ceiling as I wait for Zahra to answer.
Zahra
What do you like?
The opposite of whatever you read.
Zahra
No romance. Got it.
My phone starts pinging from her texts of recommendations. I pull up my notes app and type out her suggestions before leaving the guesthouse.
By the time I park outside One More Chapter Bookstore, Zahra sent an encouraging message about how happy she is about me getting into reading.
The tiny store hasn’t changed one bit since Lana and I used to visit. Tall wooden shelves line the walls, packed to the very top with books waiting to be purchased.
“Hi. How can I help you?” Meg, the older woman who has owned the shop since my mom used to take my brothers and I here, pops up behind me.
“I’m looking for a book.” I turn to face her.
The smile on her face dims. Typical. “Oh. Which one?”
I pull out my phone and rattle off the three Zahra recommended. Meg quickly finds the books for me and rings up my purchase.
“There you go.” She hands me the bag full of books.
The bell above the door rings. I look over my shoulder to find Violet strolling inside with Delilah.
Fucking small towns.
I haven’t seen them in six years. While Violet’s hair color has changed back to her natural blond color, Delilah still looks the same, although the ring on her left hand and the cane she leans against are new to me.
Violet’s eyes connect with mine first. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I hold up my bag.
Her nose wrinkles. “Since when do you read?”
“It took me a few decades, but I finally got the hang of it.”
“You think this is all some kind of joke?” Violet charges toward me.