Dylan snatches the phone from her hand. “Wait, are you already trying to sell this place?”
“Hells yeah.” Hazel takes the phone back and taps it with a flourish. The whooshing sound of a sent message fills the hollow room. “Again, you’re welcome.”
A lump forms in my throat at the thought of losing this place forever, even if I have no idea what to do with it in its run-down state.
“Maybe stop congratulating yourself for a minute and ask the rest of us if that’s what we even want to do.” Dylan’s voice has an edge I rarely hear, and it takes me from my reverie about bugs crawling up my leg.
All eyes shoot to Dylan. “As opposed to what?” Hazel asks. She puts her hands on her hips like Wonder Woman, and in the beam of light, she looks like she might levitate off the floor.
Dylan’s tone softens, but she takes a step closer to Hazel, challenging her. “We could renovate it, make it our vacation home, turn it into a bed-and-breakfast like Callie said, any number of ideas. I’m pretty sure that selling it now with all the cobwebs and dust won’t get us top dollar.”
Hazel takes a step closer to Dylan, something they’ve been doing their entire lives. When they were younger, it usually ended in hair-pulling or slapping. Now, it’s more likely to end in a shouting match. They’re the closest in age, and Dylan’s drama queen does not see eye to eye with the control freak in Hazel.
“Hey, guys. Relax. We don’t have to fight over this,” I say. Dylan looks charged up enough to throw a punch. She flips her long hair over her shoulder like it’s a threat. Hazel adjusts her glasses up and tosses up her hands. “Fine, nothing has to be decided today. I was just trying to take the lead on getting us out of this mess.”
“I almost can’t take all the maturity,” Callie mutters.
Mel has been watching our sisterly dynamic like it’s the best entertainment he’s seen in years. “Anything you can tell us beyond what’s in the documents?” I ask.
He taps a finger against his lip and looks at the ceiling. I follow his gaze and notice a massive, curving crack that runs the length of the room. This place really is a shithole.
“Just that despite the disrepair, your grandparents loved the place. They bought it for a steal back in the day and had visions of what it could be. A working ranch with horses and fruit orchards. They planned to raise chickens and sell eggs. It’s just…” He lets out a long sigh. “When they lost your parents, it derailed them. They didn’t get up here as much as they planned. And in the last dozen years, it’s mostly sat vacant.”
“How did we not know this?” Hannah asks, delicately tucking a curtain behind a covered armchair to let in more light. For me, that’s all it takes to see the place in, well, a different light.
Maybe Dylan is right. Maybe it could be something.
“I think we should table the discussion of what to do until we’ve seen the whole place,” Callie says. “Besides, this is Tessa’s birthday weekend. We have some celebrating to do.”
“She’s right—this place isn’t going anywhere. I say we pick a place for dinner, have some cocktails, and talk about this in the morning,” Hannah agrees.
Getting the five of us to agree on a departure time today took three video calls, a shared calendar, and endless texts. I didn’t even bother polling the group on choice of food tonight because five sisters would have given me five different types of cuisine. If we get alcohol involved, there’s no telling how this night will unfold.
“We could drive back to LA and forget about dinner,” I offer.
“It’s your birthday. We’re having dinner.” Hazel sounds definitive, as though we always celebrate birthdays together, but I can’t remember the last time we did. Then she squints in confusion. “But shouldn’t we find a hotel? It’s not like we’re gonna be able to stay here.”
Callie tosses her head back and laughs, the blond highlights catching the light. “Come on, Haze, we’ll ply you with enough drinks that you’ll want to sleep on that sofa.” She pats the sheet atop the couch, setting free a small cloud of dust.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be that drunk.” Hazel sulks. I tug her close and whisper that I made a hotel reservation just in case. The tension in her shoulders releases.
Yes, I know my sisters that well. Their happiness is my responsibility, after all.
“Let’s get her to dinner before she sees the rest of the house,” Dylan whispers to me.
I nod, hoping that this ramshackle disaster isn’t an omen for my birthday.
CHAPTER 3
Fitz
It’simpossible not to notice the table of women. They’re in the middle of the restaurant, for one thing. For another, they’re not from around here.
I’d know if they were.
From my perch at the corner of the bar, I can see their table clearly, but only one of them has my attention. Poor thing is wearing a fucking tiara. I’m guessing it’s some bachelorette party gone wrong, and she’s hating every damn minute of it.
I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t take my eyes off her. Looking is all I plan on doing. It’s not my habit to pick up women in bars, especially the most popular one in Willow Springs where it doesn’t take much to send gossip flying.
