She hadn’t been fair to Quinn, lashing out at him, when all he’d done was try to help. Doing the things her father should have been doing. She rubbed her arm absently, remembering the tenderness of Quinn’s touch, her surprise at how the warmth of his hand had comforted her.
“Are you okay?”
His voice intruded on her thoughts, and she tucked them away to explore later.
She looked up at him, sighing. “Okay, I’ll call my dad tonight. Maybe I can get to the bottom of this.” She checked her phone. “It’s an hour later in Orlando. Would you mind taking me back to my car so I can get home and call him before it gets too late?”
“Of course.” The relief in his voice was anything but subtle. “I really think you’ll feel better after you talk to him.”
She wasn’t so sure. She wrapped her coat tighter around her. But at least she’d be getting the talk with Dad out of the way.
Quinn drove her back to Dad’s house in silence, which she appreciated. As soon as they pulled up, she noticed Joanna’s car was gone. “Oh … Britt must have gone back to Jo’s apartment.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. Sorry … I’m just thinking out loud. Britt doesn’t like to stay by herself, so she’s probably staying at Jo’s again tonight.” She opened her car door and slid out, careful not to slip on the snow that crusted the driveway.
Quinn opened his door. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“You don’t need to do that.” She’d intended just to get in her car and drive back to her apartment. But she probably should check on the house. And make sure Melvin had been fed.
“I don’t mind.” He came around and met her in front of his vehicle, offering his arm.
She accepted and they started up the walk together.
“So, Britt’s scared to stay alone?”
She nodded. “Of what, I don’t know. It’s not as if the big city of Langhorne is teeming with criminals.”
“You think that’s why she’s so excited about the property?”
“Not having to live alone?” Phee considered the possibility. “I’m sure that’s one reason. She’ll need to find a place of her own—if we don’t buy the property.”
They climbed the stoop and Quinn waited while Phee found her keys. “You don’t think your sister will be scared living out on the edge of town?”
“Not if our houses are that close together.” Shoot! Now he had her thinking about the property again. “Either way, Britt is just going to have to grow up and get over it. She’s twenty-four years old! It’s about time she learned how to spend a night by herself, don’t you think?”
He shrugged, obviously not wanting to take sides in this sisterly spat.
Feeling guilty for her unkind words, she stamped snow off her shoes and inserted the key into the lock. Britt had been braver than all of them when it came to taking care of Mom—and it had gotten pretty ugly at times. Times when Phee had found excuses to disappear and let her sisters take the brunt of Mom’s pain. Forgive me, Lord.
“Well, thanks for the ride.” She gave a little wave, then opened the door. “And for supper. Such as it was.”
“You’re welcome.” He started to say something, then closed his mouth and turned away. But quickly turned back. “Not to hound you or anything, but if you could let me know in the next few days—one way or another—about the property. I don’t think it’ll last long in this current market.”
“I’ll let you know.” She knew he was only doing what Dad would expect of him. Which only served to rankle her further.
She waited until Quinn’s SUV was out of sight before entering the house. Melvin met her in the hallway, and she bent to stroke him. “Hey, buddy. Did they abandon you?” He meowed in reply and trotted toward the basement where his food and water dishes were.
Phee followed him and checked to be sure Britt had fed him, then did a quick walk through the house. Passing by the door to the guest room, memories overwhelmed her. The hospital bed had been returned, replaced by an antique bed Mom had inherited from her grandmother. But all Phee saw was that clinical, sterile room where Mom had lived out the last days of her life. She could almost smell the pungent tang of Betadine and disinfectant that hospice had used to mask the smell of death.
Sloughing off the memories, she hurried through the house to the front door. Her cramped, boring apartment in Cape sounded welcoming compared to this empty shell of a house.
And besides, she wanted to get the call to Dad over with.
Chapter 8
Her apartment was freezing, since she’d turned down the heat before leaving for work this morning. Phee tapped the thermostat up to seventy-four and went to change into a sweatshirt and pajama bottoms.
She made a cup of Earl Grey tea and tuned Pandora to a classical music station, knowing full well she was stalling. But she couldn’t stall forever. Like she’d told Quinn, it was an hour later in Florida, and it would not be conducive to a good conversation if she woke Dad up.
She carried her tea into the living room, curled up on the sofa, and brought up her dad’s number on speed dial. While she waited for him to answer, she looked around the sparsely decorated room. As much as she loved decorating and “nesting,” she hadn’t done much with this apartment because … well, because it had never really been home to her. Or more accurately, she hadn’t wanted to turn it into a home because that would be admitting that she was settled. And alone. That no one had showed up to share her life. Not in college. Not even after she’d graduated and entered the working world. Never mind that working in a flower shop meant the only men she ever met were buying flowers for their wives and sweethearts. Not exactly conducive to meeting the love of your life.
“Hey, Phee! How’s my girl?” Dad’s overly cheery voice interrupted her dreary thoughts.
“Hi, Dad. How’s it going?”
“Good! It’s going well. How about you? Everything going okay there?” Her father’s voice took on a false tone. The way it sometimes did when she showed up at his office unannounced … as if he were putting on a show for everyone. Not that her dad was a fake, but he was concerned about appearances. Always had been. It was part of his job, she supposed. And maybe the reason it bugged her so much was because she was too much like him in that regard.
“Yeah, Dad. Everything’s—” If she didn’t broach the subject now, it would never happen. She inhaled, feeling as though she were breathing through a wet dishrag. “No. Actually, everything is not okay. Everything stinks. We need you, Dad. We need you here. You picked the worst possible time to move, and I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you would do that!” She took another breath, not wanting him to get the chance to try to reason with her. But she’d run out of words.
“Phee. Don’t do this. I feel bad enough as it is.”
“Well, maybe you should feel bad.” In all the years Mom had been sick, there hadn’t been a harsh word between her and her father. He’d been a wonderful dad and a caring husband—at least she’d thought so. But maybe that had only been for appearances too. She didn’t know what to believe now.
“Phee, I know this is hard. But you girls have each other. This is a good time for you all to pull together and figure out what’s next. Don’t think I’m not aware of how much each of you sacrificed for your mom—”
“And for you, Dad! We didn’t do it just for her. We did it for you too. And this is how you thank us?”
“Phee. Stop. You don’t know all the circumstances. Now don’t say something you’ll regret.”
“Then tell me. Tell me the circumstances so I can understand.” She held out her right hand and tried to steady her trembling fingers.
“It’s not that simple. If I told you, I doubt you’d understand. I’m still … to be honest, I’m still figuring things out myself. But I need time to do that. I think it’ll all make sense eventually. To you girls, I mean. But right now, you’re too close to your mom’s death. Grief is making you see things differently than t
hey really are. That’s normal. It’s happened to me too. But please just trust me. I need to be here—in Florida—right now.”
“With her?”
“Karleen, you mean?”
“Who else would I mean?” It was too late to soften the anger in her voice.
“Phylicia. Don’t do this, honey. This isn’t like you.” His voice went soft, and he once again sounded like the loving daddy she could scarcely remember. And she knew he was right about one thing—grief was distorting everything until she felt they hardly knew each other anymore.
The lump in her throat wouldn’t let her speak for a minute. Finally, she managed to mutter an apology. She wanted to throw herself into her father’s arms and weep.
But he was in Florida. With her.
And Phee honestly didn’t know if she could trust him anymore. That hurt more than anything.
“Phee? Are you there?”
“I’m here.” She forced herself to speak calmly. “I mostly called because Quinn Mitchell showed us that property and said you thought we should buy it.”
“Ah, good. He’s talked to you about it then.”
“You really think that’s what we should do?”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do. You girls are all adults. It ultimately has to be your decision. But I do think it would be a good deal … a good investment for you girls. And Quinn had some good ideas about how you could maximize the investment.”
She struggled off the couch and went to turn down the music while Dad gave her pretty much the same spiel Quinn had given them. “Okay then. We’ll talk about it, Dad. I think Jo and Britt are already onboard.”
“Good. I’m glad.” He sounded distracted. “Well, honey … I need to run. Tell the girls hello. I love you all.”
That was it? He wasn’t going to let her talk? He wasn’t going to answer the questions she’d asked or explain why he’d left them to deal with all of this on their own?
Anger threatened to spill again. But her dad knew her too well, and she said goodbye before she said something she’d regret.
As soon as she laid her phone down, the anger dissolved into tears. When they’d buried her mom, she never dreamed they were losing Dad too—as surely as if he’d been buried there beside her. It hurt too much to think about.
She picked up her phone and texted Joanna. Is Britt with you?
No, I’m in Cape. At my apartment. Believe it or not, she stayed at the house tonight.
She wasn’t there when Quinn dropped me off at my car.
She just left my place a few minutes ago.
Seriously? She’s getting brave. Because of Melvin?
Melvin is at Mom and Dad’s.
Her breath caught. They all did it—called the house Mom and Dad’s. And she wasn’t sure how she would ever drive down that street again once someone else was living there. But then, it couldn’t be any worse than having no one living there, could it?
She tapped out a reply to Joanna. I KNOW where Melvin is. I meant, is that why Britt stayed?
Your guess is as good as mine. She didn’t say.
OK. Talk to you tomorrow.
Wait … What are your thoughts about the property?
Still mulling. I’ll call you tomorrow.
No fair.
Phee giggled. She “hearted” her sister’s message and clicked off her phone. She could just picture Joanna’s frustrated growl. Jo was probably texting Britt right now, hypothesizing about whether Quinn Mitchell had swayed Phee to their side.
The sad thing was, maybe he had. Between Quinn’s enthusiasm and what little Dad had said, it was probably a done deal. But her sisters didn’t need to know that yet. Let them sleep on it a night. Let them lie awake thinking of the thousand things she’d thought of that could go wrong.
She just wanted Dad to tell them what to do. To walk them through this, to be there for them the way he always had. She did not understand what was going on with him, and as much as she loved him and grieved to have him so far away, she wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him.
Most of all, she just wanted everything to go back to the way it had been before Mom got sick. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not ever.
The jangle of her cell phone on the nightstand startled Phee from a sound sleep. Justin Bieber. Baby, baby, baby, oh … Her baby sister’s ringtone. Britt had chosen it herself, and the song made Phee smile every time. Except—
Propping herself on one elbow, she squinted at the clock and gave a little gasp. It was after one a.m. “Britt? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Phee. Can you come? I did something really stupid.” Her sister sounded out of breath.
“Britt? What happened?”
Silence.
“What is going on, sis? Where are you?”
“I’m home … at Mom and Dad’s. The … the police are here, Phee.”
“What?” She threw off the covers and hurried to her closet to look for a pair of shoes and a jacket she could throw over her pajamas. “Why are the police there?”
“I’ll explain everything, but can you please come?”
Heart pounding, Phee threw her coat on and headed for her car, keeping Britt on the phone as she ran. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just … please don’t be mad.” The phone went dead.
What in the world? Without bothering to buckle up, she backed out of her parking space and drove too fast through streets that were, thankfully, empty.
But almost the minute she turned down Cape Street, the strobe of police lights lit the night sky, and her heart rate ratchetted up another notch. What could have happened?
Chapter 9
Two police cruisers were parked in front of the house, and neighbors dressed like Phee—jackets hastily thrown over pajamas—milled in the front yard or stood shivering on their front porches.
Phee parked in the street as close as she could get to the house and ran up the driveway, casting about wildly, looking for Britt. Halfway up the drive, she spotted her, huddled on the front steps talking to an officer. When Britt saw Phee, she ducked under the officer’s outstretched arm and hurried toward her.
“I’m so sorry, Phee,” she said again and again. “I jumped the gun. I shouldn’t have called the police.”
“What happened? Britt? Why are the police here?”
The officer approached her. “Are you the sister?”
“One of them. I’m Phylicia. What happened?”
“Everything’s okay. Just a misunderstanding.” He pointed back toward the house where two officers stood on the porch. “We’re just checking everything out to be sure.”
“Sure about what? Britt? What happened?”
Britt put her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry, officer. I feel so stupid!”
“It was an honest mistake, ma’am. Could have happened to anyone.”
Phee let out a breath. “Would someone please tell me what is going on?”
“It’s Melvin’s fault,” Britt said. “He knocked a vase off the counter. I heard glass shattering and I thought someone was breaking in, so I … called the police.”
“I told her better safe than sorry.” The young officer gave an understanding nod. “We’ll get out of your hair now and let everyone get back to bed.”
“Thank you, sir.” Phee put a hand on Britt’s back, suddenly feeling somehow responsible for what had happened. She knew Britt was skittish. If she hadn’t been so selfish, she would have stayed here with her.
“Once I figured out it was only Melvin, I called 911 back and told them not to come, but they were already pulling onto our street by the time I hung up.”
“Come on, Britt. I’ll help you clean up. Where’s Melvin?”
“He’s inside. I shut him in the basement so he wouldn’t escape while everybody was coming and going.”
“Okay.” She turned to the policeman. “Thanks again …for everything. We’re all right now.”
“N
o problem, ma’am. Okay if we let the neighbors know what happened? Give everybody a better night’s sleep if they know it was a false alarm.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
“Oh, and … hang on a second.” The officer disappeared around the corner of the house and returned with a red plastic bag marked Biohazard. “Don’t let the bag scare you. I’m afraid the vase might be beyond repair, but in case it had sentimental value, I saved the pieces.”
He opened the bag, and Phee peered inside to see shards of bright turquoise—the vase Karleen Tramberly had sent. “Thank you, but you can take it away. We don’t want to repair it.” She swallowed against the bitterness in the back of her throat.
The second cruiser had already backed out of the drive by now, and neighbors were starting to disperse. Phee nudged Britt, who was shivering and still muttering under her breath about how stupid she was. “Come on. Let’s go in.”
All the lights in the house were on, and they could hear Melvin yowling from the basement.
“I’ll go let him out. You get a broom, in case there are any slivers left.” Phee started for the basement door.
“No, I already cleaned up the mess. That cop helped me, actually.”
“Seriously? Well, that was nice.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad.” She tucked a wayward strand of hair off her sister’s pretty face. “But why did you suddenly decide to stay here by yourself? It’s kind of unbelievable that the first night you stay by yourself, this happens.”
Britt gave a little laugh. “Tell me about it.”
“So, what’s the deal? You just decided to go for it?” Phee had a feeling something else was at play, but she couldn’t guess what.
“Promise you won’t get mad if I tell you?”
Phee frowned. “You make it sound as if I’m some ogre you have to be scared of. I’m not going to get mad.”
Britt looked at the floor. “I just didn’t want you making a decision about the property on the basis of me being too chicken to stay here by myself.”
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