I take a deep, steadying breath. I messed up. I know that. I’ve been beating myself up since the moment I made the decision.But, if Grandma was here, she’d scold me. She’d tell me to pull up my big girl panties and get to work.
What does that mean?
For one, I can’t sit here and feel sorry for myself forever. There’s a lot to do. I owe it to Grandma to bring her house back to its original glory. Whether I sell it or keep it, that’s neither here nor there. The important part is I take care of it.
I shoot a text to Denver.
Me: Not the job. I can work remotely after some vacation time or on emergency projects. I’m talking about us. I need a break.
He tries to call me, but I don’t answer, instead sending it straight to voicemail.
Denver: Nor-Nor. Come on. You’re just hurting. Don’t say things you don’t mean.
But I do mean it. There’s relief in putting space between us. Somewhere in the two years I’ve been working for and dating Denver, I’ve turned into this version of a person he wanted me to be. It’s not all his fault. I saw what he liked and worked hard to be her.
Now, I just want to be me again.
I do a quick, local internet search and find the realty company Elias mentioned. I’m not sure what I want to do about the house, but I don’t think it will hurt to talk to a professional about it. I know nothing about renovating and selling a cottage on the west coast. My profession is in marketing, not real estate. They have an email contact form, so I fill it out and then shoot it off. Done.
I take another staggering breath, this one energizing me a bit. The electricity won’t be back on until Monday, but I can still getto work. At the very least, I can collect some of her other favorite pictures like the one of Mom pregnant with me. Plus, I’ll need to get a handle on the budgie rescue situation. Rehoming those birds is going to take some time.
I’ll need to make a list.
I toss my phone onto the end table and rush over to Grandma’s desk. There’s a notebook sitting on top of some books, so I flip it open, eager to get this going.
My heart stops in my chest when I see her shaky, scrawled handwriting. It was a long-forgotten to-do list dated over a year ago.
1) Tell Sandy I need her
2) Water Amos’s strawberry garden
3) Ask Elias for help with the budgies
4) Call Nora and tell her I’m proud of her
The last three items were crossed out but the first one was left untouched. For some reason, this breaks me in a way I can’t explain. I bring the notebook to my lips and kiss her writing. Then, I close the notebook, pull her ratty robe over my dress, and climb into her bed under covers. It’s almost like being wrapped in one of her loving hugs.
I’m so, so sorry Grandma.
I miss you more than you’ll ever know.
Chapter 8
Elias
When I came home last night, I expected more drama. I was tense and ready to verbally spar again with Nora. But, by the time I dragged myself back after hiding out at Jessi’s place with the kids, the fight had left me.
She was curled up in bed, tissues all around her, wearing her grandma’s robe.
How in the Helsinki was I supposed to stay mad when she looked so pitiful?
“I’m going to do better,” I tell Clo who’s splashing around in the birdbath the sparrows like to bathe in. “I can be a nice human.”
Clo flutters his wings and chirps at me. I think he believes me. He’s seen it and knows I’m capable.
The sun hasn’t breached the horizon yet, so it’s gray out, but I love the kiss of a hello from the early morning. It’s so peaceful and quiet. If you get up early enough, you can spend all the time you need with the beginning of your day.
I pick up my coffee mug and bring it to my nose, inhaling the nutty tones. I’m not one to add sugar and creamer, but I do lovea specialty brew and am always game to try new flavors. Mom picked this one up at one of the bougie newer shops. Imported from France. It’s our little secret. Monroe’s baby sister, Hattie, doesn’t need to know we tried something new. We’re all still major Baked & Brewed patrons.
