“Quit eatin’ those.” Mim snapped the dish towel on my rump. “And don’t you be buttin’ in if you don’t know what we’re talkin’ about.”
I’d heard this argument for the last three months. I knew. “You don’t want Bron buying a bed and breakfast,” I said. “You think she’s throwing away her nursing career.”
Mim’s freckled finger curled around her dangly koala earring. “All those years workin’ so hard!”
“It’s not a waste if I don’t want to be a nurse anymore,” Bronte insisted.
“Runnin’ a bed and breakfast isn’t like what you see in the movies. You won’t be just fluffin’ some pillows and droppin’ off a few towels. You really wanna be cleanin’ tourist poop off toilets?”
“It’s better than wiping it off their butt.” Bronte grinned. “Look, I’m not buying the old sheep station without understanding the reality. After I finish my interior decorating course—”
“I thought you were doin’ a bookkeepin’ course?”
Bronte waved off that comment. “I finished that ages ago. Right after I did that online course in product photography. I think I’ll sign up for something in hospitality management next. Oh! Or marketing.”
Mim’s hand fluttered to her chest. “Hospitality…management?” She was one online course away from having a heart attack.
Lucky for her, my peacekeeping skills were top-notch. Middle child, and all that. I wrapped my arm around Mim’s shoulders and pulled her close. She had some height on her, and despite all her wriggling, it was still easy enough to plant a kiss on her head.
“Come on, Mim,” I said. “Even you have to admit Bron’s done a great job helping me get the cottages up and running.”
“I suppose the cottages are nice…” Mim conceded reluctantly.
“Nice?” Bronte scoffed. “Five-star reviews across the board. I upgraded the settler cottages from the convict era to the kind ofmodern rustic charm people pay top dollar for. The reclaimed wood I integrated into the kitchens is out of this world.”
“And every cottage was delivered under budget, too,” I added.
Bronte shot our mother a satisfied grin. “See? I know what I’m doing.”
“Oh, that’s how it is, eh?” Mim’s eyes narrowed. “Gangin’ up on me? First, it was Cal tellin’ me we’re expandin’ intofarmin’ tourism.” Steely blue eyes shifted to Bronte. “And now, you, throwin’ all your money at that rundown pile of bricks outside town. I miss my precious babies who adored me.”
I squeezed Mim closer to my side. “I still adore you.”
Bronte snorted. “Suck up.”
Grinning, I edged my hand around Mim’s slim hips to sneak a fresh attack at the cookies. Maybe she wouldn’t notice—
Snap.
The dish towel whipped against my legs.
“You’re not spoilin’ your dinner,” Mim said, “You go wash up properly—”
A chime cut in from the counter. The tablet propped against the stand mixer lit up.
Bronte scrambled off the stool. “It’s Erin!” She jabbed at the screen to start the video call.
“Oh!” Mim frantically brushed off the flour splattered over her apron. “Erin! I hope my little Til is still up to say hello!”
Mim and Bronte crowded around the tablet. Hovering in the background was my preferred spot. I plowed an unsteady hand through my hair, trying to neaten it up. Why hadn’t I headed straight for the shower when I got off work? I should’ve ignored those cookies. I should’ve—
Every thought in my head vanished when Erin’s face brightened the screen. The hammering in my chest made it hard to breathe. I forgot how to smile.
There’s my girl…
“Hi, everyone!” Erin waved, her dark eyes scanning each face, her grin fading when she got to the end too quickly.
I knew that feeling.
