It was the last time they would hear their voices. The last ‘drive safe.’ The last ‘I love you.’
Daniel and Lily Byrne died the following evening. Poor visibility, heavy rain, straight winds, and a semi-truck pulling an empty 48-foot trailer making it more susceptible to the high winds. Eyewitnesses said the trailer had been swaying violently before it swung into oncoming vehicles, dragging the semi in its wake. Their car stood no chance against it. Surviving over seventeen tons of tornadic metal— nonexistent.
Past and present divided...
Raven knew her parents watched over them. She knew they would stand beside her and her sisters during this meeting with Mr. O’Faolain.
4
Bran, Patrick, and their father found Triskelion easily enough. The sisters had done a commendable job keeping the old-world feel to the three-story brick building while managing to make the entrance fresh and inviting. The heavy, wooden door painted emerald green, had a simple bronze placard attached:
Triskelion Territory Designs
Byrne Sisters
“Cool feel to the place.” Patrick may not love history as much as Bran did, but he did appreciate it when an effort of preservation was made.
“Nice,” Dad said. Hugh the Loquacious.
“We’re earlier than I’d planned. Hopefully, we don’t screw up their schedule.” Bran had planned to have their sit down with the sisters around ten or eleven, but Dad and Pat decided the warm, sunny day would be wasted on the road and wanted to get business out of the way so they could enjoy the sunny weekend. Bran didn’t try too hard to change their minds.
They were all home with no plans and decided they officially needed to start preparations for Open the Pond Day... or, more appropriately, Open Club Pond-Pub Day. So, with very little arm-twisting involved, they convinced Bran to get the boring shit with Triskelion over quick and early— 8:30 am arrival— stop by a grocery store that hopefully had a good meat market, grab some steaks and head back to the compound to get everything ready for a weekend of relaxation.
Thinking of what Dad had said about James yesterday, Bran had texted him on the way to Eufaula and asked him to join them for the weekend.
“Hey, James just texted me that he’s down to hang out but not to buy any gas station garbage meat. His words, and he’ll bring everything we need.”
“Glad you thought to include him, Bran. It’s been a long time since we’ve all hung out.” Patrick added, “It will also give us a chance to talk to James about Wolves and, I guess, about our meeting this morning.”
As the O’Faolain’s walked through the front door, it wasn’t the simplistically lovely creams and greens of the office space Bran noticed but rather the horrible music filtering through the office’s stereo. Thankfully, it was on low—Bangarangby Skrillex (thank Pat for the awful music lesson), paired with the women’s— presumably the owners’— colorful argument filtering down from above— and the smell... what the hell.
Dad looked as though he was bracing himself. Patrick said, “Great fucking song.” Bran could only wonder what he’d done to piss Diana Gaines off.
Raven was aboutto cut a bitch— or two. The morning had started off so well, and the dinner celebration the night before had been fun and productive. Morning workouts and beautification— done and done. Baking cookies for their, hopefully, newest clients— burnt.
She shouldn’t have made the attempt. River was the baker, but she was too busy fussing with her hair, and it should be noted here that they ALL have Straight. Black. Hair. They wash it, dry it, and brush it. It hangs to their waists. Gale force winds wouldn’t change its trajectory. Straight, no fuss needed.
So, the fact that there were burnt cookies and a BURNT COOKIE SMELL in the office was simply NOT RAVEN’S FAULT.
“Suck it, Raven! It’s fucking cookies, for the love of God. Cookies!” River screeched. “A five-year-old could have made them.”
“I was nervous about this morning, you absoluteasshole! And turn this horror movie music OFF!” Raven would love to have a redo. Hear her alarm go off, gently touch her phone screen to end the beep, dreamily stretch, and hop out of bed. But no... this hellscape was still in play and looking comfortable.
“I don’t like to involve myself in your ridiculous bullshit, but I’m telling you both now, shut, the absolute fuck, up!” Raven and River froze, slowly swiveling like animatrons toward their youngest sister, and looked in awe at the youngest Byrne. The one that never raised her voice and so rarely cursed.
“Holy fuck, Row— you legit just used the F word.” Cookies forgotten, River was all smirk.
Raven attempted to slow her roll. “Umm, sis, you all right?”
Rowan, even-keeled Rowan, didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, girls, I’m not okay.” Smoothing her hands over her behind, she asked, “Do you love my dress?” Before Raven could respond, Rowan continued - and here, she puts a hand beneath her flowysummer dress, all pale yellow and lovely, and made a giant production of pulling out a panty wedge.
“No-show panties, right? Lies,” she cried. “Absolute, one hundred percent bullshit lies.”
Rowan’s clone then proceeded to pull the offending undergarment down her legs, wad them up, and throw them in the trash can.
“There. Those faux-no-show pieces of absolute shit can rest in peace in the trashcan.” With a maniacal look in her eyes, she says all Laura Ingalls Wilder sweet, “Riv, would you mind switching the music to something a bit more peaceful, and Rave, would you help me open up the windows downstairs to air out the... ash in the air?”
Alrighty then. Put in their places, the three girls marched downstairs while River, thankfully, switched to Passenger Radio. Crisis averted? No.
