Shelby unwraps her fork and knife from her napkin and begins cutting Charlotte’s pancakes into smaller pieces. “You may have noticed there aren’t a lot of restaurants in town.”
Violet harrumphs. “Who needs other restaurants when we’ve mastered the trade?”
As soon as she walks away, Shelby leans in conspiratorially. “Violet’s been my best friend since we were kids. This is her parents’ place. Toby and I have been coming here since high school. The food is nothing fancy, but Charlotte likes it, and I love the people who make it. And Toby will eat anything.”
We all glance over at my brother, who has already started digging into his breakfast platter with gusto. He shrugs, clearly unable to argue the point.
Shelby returns her attention to Marissa. “You said the house used to belong to your grandma? Did you visit a lot?”
Marissa nods. “We used to spend every summer here when I was a kid, but I haven’t been back in years. We stopped visiting consistently after I got my first job. I was on this show calledLittle LLC.”
“You were onLittle LLC?” Toby’s mouth drops open, revealing a half-masticated piece of sausage. “No way! My brother was obsessed with that show. Used to watch it every Friday afternoon. How did that theme song go? Sing it for us, Jesse.”
The back of my neck heats.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I murmur as I busy myself with my own plate.
Naturally, my brother is undeterred. He tilts his head back and lets out a bellowing laugh.
“What are you talking about, man? You never missed an episode.” He glances around the table to make sure he has everyone’s attention. “It was wild too, because he hates musicals. Which is nuts. Who hates musicals? But he wouldn’t leave the house whenLittle LLCwas on.”
Dear god, let the earth open and swallow me whole. I turn to my sister-in-law, sending her a silent plea to come to my rescue. She blinks at me and then understanding registers in her eyes. Blessedly, she decides to throw me a bone.
“Marissa,” she says, redirecting her attention, “have you had any time to think about remodeling ideas? I was planning to stop by the house on Monday to take some pictures, so I get a feel of what we’re working with. I always want to collaborate with homeowners as much as possible. It’s your home, after all.”
Marissa smiles. “I’m looking forward to it. I want to preserve the character of the house. But I would prefer not to sleep in the exact same bedroom my grandmother did.”
Shelby laughs good-naturedly. “I got you. We need to make this a proper vacation home so you can come back every summer! In the past few years, a lot of houses around here have started renting out as Airbnbs, so there isn’t as much of a community as there used to be.”
“Oh.” Marissa worries her bottom lip. It’s clear that she’s choosing her next words carefully. “I don’t know if this is going to be an annual thing. It was kind of a last-minute change of plans, given… the current situation. I was planning on renovating it and gifting it back to my family or putting it up for sale.”
Shelby’s smile falters.
“Oh. Right, of course.”
Marissa, clocking Shelby’s disappointment, attempts to walk the statement back.
“We’ll see how the summer goes,” she adds quickly. “No need to decide right this second.”
The conversation shifts after an awkward beat, and a few minutes later, Violet returns with the check. Marissa reaches for it, but Toby waves her away.
“I told you, we got this,” he says.
Marissa smiles graciously. “Thank you. I really appreciate the kindness.”
“I’ll swing by around three today, if that works?” I say. “We’ll have those moths out in no time.” I fight back a full-body cringe.God, I sound like such a tool.
She turns to me, eyes widening. “Oh, yes. Yeah, that would be great.”
“Butterflies bad,” Levi reminds us solemnly.
I give him a reassuring smile. “We just need to send them outside where they live. But I’m going to need a couple of helpers. You guys in?”
7MARISSA
When Jesse shows up that afternoon with a plastic bucket in hand, my kids are waiting for him at the door. Since we got home from breakfast, they’ve been spiraling about “the butterflies,” even though I’ve managed to coax most of them outside. They seem visibly relieved that help has finally arrived.
They aren’t the only ones. The moment Jesse’s face appears in the doorway, my whole body seems to relax. I don’t know what it is about this guy. He’s virtually a stranger and yet something about his presence puts me at ease.
