Essie nodding, exhaling. “I could use a distraction and Frank’s golfing his usual Monday game. Any chance you’re free for lunch?”
“Oh, Essie, I would love that,” Maude said, then laughed softly. “But I’m actually at the hospital right now.”
Essie gasped. “Are you all right?”
“Oh! Yes, I’m fine,” Maude assured her quickly. “I’m signing up to volunteer. I just felt the need to do something more, you know?”
Essie smiled despite everything. “I do know. I just came from helping clean the church. I think it’s wonderful. Truly. I admire you for doing that.”
“Thank you.” Maude’s voice warmed like she was smiling. “And, hey, the cafeteria here is surprisingly decent. If you want, come join me for lunch. You can help me celebrate my official enrollment into the land of scrubs and ID badges. Also, my treat because those headphones are thebomb.”
“You earned those headphones.” Essie thought about driving home alone with her thoughts and shivered. Then she pictured Maude and a cafeteria table and maybe a pudding cup or two. No one there would care that she was in jeans, a faded top, and sneakers. “I’ll text you when I arrive.”
“You got it.” Maude paused, gentler now. “We can talk about anything you want or nothing at all.”
Essie swallowed a sudden swell of emotion. “Thank you, Maude. I really need the company today.”
“You’ve got it,” Maude said. “Always.”
As Essie turned the car toward the hospital, the weight in her chest didn’t entirely disappear but suddenly she could breathe again.
Sometimes comfort didn’t come in the form of answers. Sometimes it came in the form of a cafeteria tray and a loyal Queen Bee.
Chapter Thirty
Standing in the middle of her tiny house, fresh from a great lunch with Essie and being officially welcomed to the hospital’s volunteer staff, Maude had the distinct impression she was trying to reorganize a closet while someone kept adding new shoes.
Her home was wonderful and efficient and absolutely perfect foroneperson. One mostly quiet person. One semi-organized person. One person who knewexactlywhere everything went.
Her brother Robbie was the opposite of all those things. And she realized she had no idea how much stuff he’d be bringing with him.
Robbie was never short on baggage, physical or emotional.
She sighed at the loft. “Well. Something’s going up there. Preferably him.”
She looked up at the space she’d once envisioned as a cozy reading nook or a spot for an overnight guest. Currently, it housed some dust, a few boxes of Christmas stuff, and her suitcase. Storage, really. Which was actually how it was labeled on the house plan.Storage loft.
“Well,” she muttered, “I guess I can store Robbie up there.”
Pixel was probably questioning Maude’s life choices right now. She could practically hear his comments, if fish could talk. Which, thankfully, they could not.
Robbie wasn’t just potentially high maintenance. He was a spreader. A man who filled rooms energetically and emotionally. Putting him in her tiny house felt like trying to house a Great Dane in a shoebox.
She climbed the steps to the loft to get a better look.
The headroom wasn’t terrible, but only if you paid attention. Or were under five-eight. Which Robbie wasn’t.
She sat on the floorboards and drummed her fingers. She needed to clean up here if this was where she was putting him.
Then she glanced down at her couch, her cozy, brand new couch, and shuddered. No. She could not have her living room transformed into Robbie’s makeshift bedroom. She’d never get him out. He’d migrate from the couch to the kitchen table, then to her work desk, until she was a visitor in her own home.
“I can’t put him there,” she told the empty room. “That’s the kiss of death. He’ll take over and morph into a permanent fixture.”
She shivered at the thought of coming out every morning to Robbie snoring, surrounded by his tangle of charger cords, open bags of chips, and empty soda cans.
She studied the loft again. What would he sleep on up here? She supposed she could buy him a bed, but that felt like rolling out a welcome mat embroidered with Stay As Long As You Want! Indefinitely! Forever!
“Nope,” she said. “Not doing that. Absolutely not.”
