“Myra Jean,” comes the squawk of my sister’s voice from down the stairs. “I have to tinkle!”
I squeeze my eyes shut and sigh. “I’ll be right there,” I call back.
“Remember, she’s injured,” Lindsey says with a laugh.
“I know,” I say through a yawn. “I’ll go take care of Rose and let you unpack, but after that I thought I might make a meatloaf for dinner. How does that sound?”
“Mom, you don’t need to go through a bunch of trouble. You’re exhausted. Why don’t we order in Chinese?”
I can practically feel my droopy eyes brighten. “And watchThe Preacher’s Wife?”
It was one of our favorite holiday movies, so much so that we went through at least three copies of the Whitney Houston classic over the years because we inevitably wore them out.
She nods. “You read my mind.”
Thankfully,the rest of the week passes without any additional disasters or mishaps. With Lindsey and Rose staying at the house, I don’t have time to feel lonely or sad because I’m having so much fun. Sure, Rose gets on my nerves on occasion, and I fully regret ever giving her that damn bell, but it’s nice feeling like I’m taking care of someone again. Like I’m needed.
Rose is flipping through the channels while we drink coffee on the couch late Sunday morning when Lindsey bounds down the stairs in her scrubs.
“Where are you off to in your work clothes?” I ask. “It’s Sunday.”
She shrugs on her coat. “One of my clients called and is having a problem with his goat.”
“A goat emergency?” Rose says. “What on earth?”
“I’ll be back in time for dinner,” she promises, lowering herself to plant a kiss on each of our cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to a family dinner more. With the stress of the fire and dealing with insurance adjusters, I’m beyond ready for some normalcy.”
I choke on a sip of coffee as the consequences of my own actions pop up like a jack-in-the-box and sock me right in thenose. This family dinner will be anythingbutnormal with Oliver in attendance. How could I have forgotten?
“You okay?” Lindsey asks while Rose eyes me suspiciously.
“Of course,” I say, gesturing to my mug. “Yes, sorry. We’ll have a good time. Dinner will be great.”
“See y’all later,” she calls on her way out the door, closing it behind her.
I slam my cup on the coffee table with one hand and grip Rose’s knee with the other.
“I forgot we invited Oliver,” I blurt out.
After a moment, my sister throws her head back in a rich cackle.
I jump to my feet. “Crap, Rose! We can’t uninvite him because that would be rude, and even if I was willing to do that, I don’t have his number.”
“Sounds like quite the predicament, doesn’t it?” she says between fits of laughter.
I pace the floor, my arms flailing at my sides. “Rose, this is serious. What are we going to do?”
“We?”My sister flashes me a smug smile. “I don’t know whatyou’regoing to do, butI’mplanning to sit back and enjoy the show.”
“Gee, thanks for the show of solidarity,” I say. “What happened to you not letting me have all the fun?”
She points to her braced ankle. “This was the extent of my fun, and I learned my lesson. Guess it’s time for you to learn yours too.”
I let out a heavy sigh. As much as I hate it, she’s right. The only way out of this is through.
9
LINDSEY
