Cesar’s head snaps up, his eyes alert. “Say what?”
I shake my head too quickly, and my best friend gives me the side eye. I take a casual sip of beer.
“You got a desperate housewife who needs a stud finder?”
Canebrake almost comes out my nose. I splutter and cough while he laughs.“Dios mío,Cesar,” I rasp, fighting for breath.
Cesar shakes his head. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
Chapter Six
MILLIE
“So that wall,”Harry says, pointing to the one that separates the kitchen and formal dining room but keeping his eyes on the plans, “would be gone, right?”
“Yes.” I nod, but he’s not looking at me. “And that’s an island where the wall is now, and there would be a breakfast nook at the bay window.” I tap on these details in the design, the last one so sweet and irresistible, I want to become a two-dimensional version of myself and curl up on its cushioned window seat. It would be like getting the coveted booth at your favorite restaurant instead of one of the square tables adrift in the middle of the room.
“Mom would have loved that breakfast nook,” Mattie says wistfully. She’s standing behind Emmett, peering down at the plans from over his head, her hands on his shoulders. I’m glad she’s touching him, bracing him. I’m trying to gage all of their reactions, but I can’t study all three of them at once.
When my eyes flit to Emmett, he’s running his fingers over the tile samples on the project board, and I see his nose wrinkled in confusion. “What’s a nook?”
Harry shrugs. “It’s like a hideaway.”
Emmett’s eyes round. “In the kitchen?” He sounds so mystified, I know he’s picturing something out of a story book, like a secret passageway or a trap door.
“It’s not hidden,” I explain. “It’s just a place that is sort of tucked aside.”
His gaze turns accusing and he aims it at Harry. “Then why did you sayhideawayif you can’t even hide in it?”
Harry rolls his eyes. “I saidhideawaybecause that’s like the definition. Look…” He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and drums the screen with his thumbs.“Nook: a corner or recess, especially one offering seclusion or security.”
As one, we look back at the drawing of the little alcove.Seclusion or security.A little safe place for the four of us to gather. It looks so cozy. I can picture us there on Saturday mornings. PlayingSpontaneouson Sunday nights. Tucked in right where Mom wanted us to be.
My throat closes on the thought, but I bite the tip of my tongue until the threat of tears passes. I don’t want my feelings to influence my brothers and sister.
But if I hadn’t already made up my mind, it’s made up now. I want this remodel. And it’s not just because this is the kitchen Mom wanted. Yes, I want to see it through for her.
But I also want it for us.
I want its cozy, welcoming embrace. I want the morning light as it will shine in from the bay window and fill the kitchen. I want to sit at the nook’s table with a book and wait for Emmett’s bus. I usually only have about fifteen minutes between the time I get home with Mattie and the time when his bus shows up, but that’s now how I want to spend those minutes. And for this to be the spot where I sit with him to do his homework, listening to the sound of Mattie practicing piano.
“And we can afford this?” Harry asks, still scrutinizing the plans. I smile at my brother’s caution, his concern for our financial welfare.
“We can. It was already earmarked in one of the savings accounts,” I explain. “I just didn’t know what it was for before now.”
In the beginning, the paperwork had been staggering. Accounts, policies, portfolios, fund statements. In my old life, I’d only had a checking account that Mom and Dad bankrolled. I was still in vet school, and they put money in my debit account every month so I could cover rent, utilities, groceries, and spending money. That’s all I’d ever had to worry about.
Mom and Dad’s lawyer and their financial planner both met with me after the memorial to help me make sense of everything, but even with their help, I was overwhelmed. My Uncle Gill, Mom’s oldest brother and a CPA, came in for a weekend about a month later, and he helped me set up a Mint account so I could see everything in one place. We put as many bills as we could on automatic draft, and we created a schedule so that the rolling balance from the life insurance payout would stay in a money market account and only make a deposit into our expense account once a month.
By and large, that means I don’t have to think about the details all the time. Quarterly updates are good enough. But last night, after Luc Valencia’s visit—and after the grocery run, the homework rodeo, and a dinner of homemade chili and cornbread—I sat in the living room while the kids watchedMilo Murphy’s Lawon the Disney Channel and went through the various savings accounts again.
Sure enough, one of them was labeledKIT RM BGT.I hadn’t given it any thought before, but now that I’ve seen the plans and the bid, I think this probably stands for “kitchen remodel budget.” I certainly can’t fathom what else it might stand for, and, after all, I know from talking to Mom that she was planning for this.
“Honestly,” I tell him because I don’t want him or the other two to worry. “Even if they hadn’t set money aside for it, we could still afford it.”
Harry’s eyes meet mine, and he nods. “Then I say we do it.” He casts his eyes around the kitchen. “The way I see it, this room has been needing an update since we moved in.”
I hold my breath. If Harry’s for it, my money is on Emmett being on board too. I look at Mattie. She’s biting her lip.
