And as Molly’s best friend and Finn’s sister, I was caught in between, attempting to give them both equal love and support.
“Is everything set for tomorrow?” Finn propped his elbows on the counter and watched me make his latte.
“Yes. I need to do a couple of things for the breakfast menu, but then I’m all set.”
“Want to grab dinner with me tonight? I can wait around for you to finish up.”
My shoulders stiffened and I didn’t turn away from the espresso drip. “Um, I actually have plans tonight.”
“Plans? What plans?”
The surprise in his voice wasn’t a shock. In the five years since Jamie had died, I’d rarely made plans that hadn’t included him or Molly. I’d all but lost touch with the friends Jamie and I’d had from college. The only girlfriend I still talked to was Molly. And the closest I’d come to making a new friend lately had been my conversation earlier with Randall.
Finn was probably excited, thinking I was doing something social and branching out, which wasn’t entirely untrue. But my brother wasn’t going to like the plans I’d made.
“I’m going to a karate class,” I blurted and started steaming his milk. I could feel his frown on my back, and sure enough, it was still there when I delivered his finished latte.
“Poppy, no. I thought we talked about giving up this list thing.”
“We talked about it, but I don’t remember agreeing with you.”
Finn thought my desire to complete Jamie’s birthday list was unhealthy.
I thought it was necessary.
Because maybe if I finished Jamie’s list, I could find a way to let him go.
Finn huffed and dove right into our usual argument. “It could take you years to get through that list.”
“So what if it does?”
“Finishing his list isn’t going to bring him back. It’s just your way of holding on to the past. You’re never going to move on if you can’t let him go. He’s gone, Poppy.”
“I know he’s gone,” I snapped, the threat of tears burning my throat. “I’m well aware that Jamie isn’t coming back, but this is my choice. I want to finish his list and the least you can do is be supportive. Besides, you’re one to talk about moving on.”
“That’s different,” he countered.
“Is it?”
We went into a stare-down, my chest heaving as I refused to blink.
Finn broke first and slumped forward. “I’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.”
I stepped to the counter and placed my hand on top of his. “I know, but please, try and understand why I need to do this.”
He shook his head. “I don’t get it. I don’t know why you’d put yourself through all that. But you’re my sister and I love you, so I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” I squeezed his hand. “I want you to be happy too. Maybe instead of dinner with me, you should go to Molly’s? You could try and talk after the kids go to bed.”
He shook his head, a lock of his rust-colored hair falling out of place as he spoke to the countertop. “I love her. I always will, but I can’t forgive what she did. I just . . . can’t.”
I wished he’d try harder. I hated to see my brother so heartbroken. Molly too. I’d jump at the chance to get Jamie back, no matter what mistakes he might have made.
“So, karate?” Finn asked, changing subjects. He might disapprove of my choice to finish Jamie’s list, but he’d rather talk about it than his failed marriage.
“Karate. I made an appointment to try a class tonight.” It was probably a mistake, doing strenuous physical exercise the night before the grand opening, but I wanted to get it done before the restaurant opened and I got too busy—or chickened out.
“Then, I guess, tomorrow you’ll get to cross two things off the list. Opening this restaurant and going to a karate class.”
“Actually.” I held up a finger, then went to the register for my purse. I pulled out my oversized bag and rifled around until my fingers hit Jamie’s leather journal. “I’m going to cross off the restaurant one today.”
I hadn’t completed many items on Jamie’s list, but every time I did, waterworks followed. The restaurant’s opening tomorrow was going to be one of my proudest moments and I didn’t want it flooded with tears.
“Would you do it with me?” I asked.
He smiled. “You know I’ll always be here for whatever you need.”
I knew.
Finn had held me together these last five years. Without him, I don’t think I would have survived Jamie’s death.
“Okay.” I sucked in a shaky breath, then grabbed a pen from the jar by the register. Flipping to the thirtieth-birthday page, I carefully checked the little box in the upper right corner.
Jamie had given each birthday a page in the journal. He’d wanted some space to make notes about his experience or tape in pictures. He’d never get to fill in these pages, and even though I was doing his list, I couldn’t bring myself to do it either. So after I finished one of his items, I simply checked the box and ignored the lines that would always remain empty.
As expected, the moment I closed the journal, a sob escaped. Before the first tear fell, Finn had rounded the corner and pulled me into his arms.
I miss you, Jamie. I missed him so much it hurt. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t do his own list. It wasn’t fair that his life had been cut short because I’d asked him to run a stupid errand. It wasn’t fair that the person responsible for his death was still living free.
It wasn’t fair.
The flood of emotion consumed me and I let it all go into my brother’s navy shirt.
“Please, Poppy,” Finn whispered into my hair. “Please think about stopping this list thing. I hate that it makes you cry.”
I sniffled and wiped my eyes, fighting with all my strength to stop crying. “I have to,” I hiccupped. “I have to do this. Even if it takes me years.”
Finn didn’t reply; he just squeezed me tighter.
We hugged each other for a few minutes until I got myself together and stepped back. Not wanting to see the empathy in his eyes, I looked around the restaurant. The restaurant I’d only been able to buy because of Jamie’s life insurance money.
“Do you think he’d have liked it?”
Finn threw his arm over my shoulders. “He’d have loved it. And he’d be so proud of you.”
“This was the one item on his list that wasn’t just for him.”
“I think you’re wrong about that. I think this was for him. Making your dreams come true was Jamie’s greatest joy.”
I smiled. Finn was right. Jamie would have been so excited about this place. Yes, it was my dream, but it would have been his too.
Wiping my eyes one last time, I put the journal away. “I’d better get my stuff done so I can get to that class.”
“Call me afterward if you need to. I’ll just be home. Alone.”
“Like I said, you could always go eat dinner with your family.” He shot me a glare and I held up my hands. “Just an idea.”
Finn kissed my cheek and took another long drink of his coffee. “I’m going to go.”
“But you’re coming by tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Proud of you, sis.”
I was proud of me too. “Thanks.”
We walked together to the door, then I locked it behind him before rushing back to the kitchen. I dove into my cooking, making a tray of quiches that would sit overnight in the refrigerator and bake fresh in the morning. When my watch dinged the minute after I’d slid the tray into the fridge, I took a deep breath.
Karate.
I was going to karate tonight. I had no desire to try martial arts, but I would. For Jamie.
So I hurried to the bathroom, trading my jeans and white top for black leggings and a maroon sports tank. I tied my long red hair into a ponytail that hung past my sports bra before stepping into my charcoal tennis shoes and heading out the back.
&nb
sp; It didn’t take me long to drive my green sedan to the karate school. Bozeman was the fastest-growing town in Montana and it had changed a lot since I’d moved here for college, but it still didn’t take more than twenty minutes to get from one end to the other—especially in June, when college was out for the summer.
By the time I parked in the lot, my stomach was in a knot. With shaking hands, I got out of my car and went inside the gray brick building.
“Hi!” A blond teenager greeted me from behind the reception counter. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen and she had a black belt tied around her white uniform.
“Hi,” I breathed.
“Are you here to try a class?”
I nodded and found my voice. “Yes, I called earlier this week. I can’t remember who I talked to but he told me I could just come over tonight and give it a shot.”
“Awesome! Let me get you a waiver. One sec.” She disappeared into the office behind the reception counter.
I took the free moment to look around. Trophies filled the shelves behind the counter. Framed certificates written in both English and Japanese hung on the walls in neat columns. Pictures of happy students were scattered around the rest of the lobby.
Past the reception area was a wide platform filled with parents sitting on folding chairs. Proud moms and dads were facing a long glass window that overlooked a classroom of kids. Beyond the glass, little ones in white uniforms and yellow belts were practicing punches and kicks—some more coordinated than others but all quite adorable.
“Here you go.” The blond teenager returned with a small stack of papers and a pen.
“Thanks.” I got to work, filling out my name and signing the necessary waivers, then handed them back. “Do I need to, um, change?” I glanced down at my gym clothes, feeling out of place next to all the white uniforms.
“You’re fine for tonight. You can just wear that, and if you decide to sign up for more classes, we can get you a gi.” She tugged on the lapel of her uniform. “Let me give you a quick tour.”
I took a deep breath, smiling at some of the parents as they turned and noticed me. Then I met the girl on the other side of the reception counter and followed her through an archway to a waiting room. She walked straight past the open area and directly through the door marked Ladies.
“You can use any of the hooks and hangers. We don’t wear shoes in the dojo, so you can leave those in a cubby with your keys. There aren’t any lockers, as you can see,” she laughed, “but no one will steal anything from you. Not here.”
“Okay.” I toed off my shoes and put them in a free cubby with my car keys.
Damn it. I should have painted my toenails. The red I’d chosen weeks ago was now chipped and dull.
“I’m Olivia, by the way.” She leaned closer to whisper. “When we’re in here, you can just call me Olivia, but when we’re in the waiting area or dojo, you should always call me Olivia Sensei.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“It’ll just be a few more minutes until the kids’ class is done.” Olivia led me back out to a waiting area. “You can just hang out here and then we’ll get started.”
“Okay. Thank you again.”
She smiled and disappeared back to the reception area.
I stood quietly in the waiting room, trying to blend into the white walls as I peeked into the dojo.
The class was over and the kids were all lining up to bow to their teachers. Senseis. One little boy was wiggling his toes on the blue mats covering the floor. Two little girls were whispering and giggling. An instructor called for attention and the kids’ backs all snapped straight. Then they bent at the waist, bowing to the senseis and a row of mirrors spanning the back of the room.
The room erupted in laughter and cheers as the kids were dismissed from their line and funneled out the door. Most passed me without a glance as they went to find their parents or change in the locker rooms.
My nerves spiked as the kids cleared the exercise room, knowing it was almost time for me to go in there. Other adult students were coming in and out of the locker rooms, and I was now even more aware that I would be the only person tonight not wearing white.
I hated being new. Some people enjoyed the rush of the first day of school or a new job, but not me. I didn’t like the nervous energy in my fingers. And I really didn’t want to make a fool of myself tonight.
Just don’t fall on your face.
That was one of two goals for tonight: survive, and stay upright.
I smiled at another female student as she emerged from the locker room. She waved but joined a group of men huddled on the opposite wall.
Not wanting to eavesdrop on the adults, I studied the children as they buzzed around until a commotion sounded in the lobby.
Determined not to show fear to whoever came my way, I forced the corners of my mouth up. They fell when a man stepped into the waiting area.
A man I hadn’t seen in five years, one month and three days appeared in the room.
The cop who’d told me my husband had been murdered.
Buy The Birthday List here
Thank you, dear reader! With all of the books to choose from these days, I am so grateful you chose Tinsel.
I’d like to give special thanks to my incredible team for all the work they do on each of my books. My editing and proofreading team: Elizabeth, Elaine, Julie, Karen and Kaitlyn. My cover designer: Sarah. My formatter: Stacey. I am honored to work with such talented and smart women.
To my publicist Dani, thanks for all you do! And to the team at Brower Literary, thank you for promoting my books all across the world.
Thank you to each and every blogger who takes the time to read and post about my stories. I owe my career to book bloggers, and I can’t thank you all enough for the endless support. Perry Street, you never cease to amaze me with your kind words. They always find me when I need them most. Thank you to all of my author friends for being so supportive and always being there to answer questions or bounce ideas around. A special thanks to Natasha Madison for being an all-around beautiful friend.
To my family, thank you for celebrating each of my successes. Thank you for holding my hand through each of my failures. Your unconditional love gives me wings.
Jamison Valley Series
The Coppersmith Farmhouse
The Clover Chapel
The Lucky Heart
The Outpost
The Bitterroot Inn
Maysen Jar Series
The Birthday List
Letters to Molly
Lark Cove Series
Tattered
Timid
Tragic
Tinsel
Devney is a USA Today bestselling author who lives in Washington with her husband and two sons. Born and raised in Montana, she loves writing books set in her treasured home state. After working in the technology industry for nearly a decade, she abandoned conference calls and project schedules to enjoy a slower pace at home with her family. Writing one book, let alone many, was not something she ever expected to do. But now that she’s discovered her true passion for writing romance, she has no plans to ever stop.
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Tinsel Page 31