For a fleeting moment, for the duration of this summer, I had someone to prioritize over work, but soon that would be over. Then, I’d rather focus on work than spiral into my head.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Ethel!” a female voice carried from the other side.
“Shit shit shit.” Ethel ducked under the table and pulled the chair behind herself. “Don’t tell Mary I’m here.”
Rowan made a zipping motion over his lips.
“What did you do now?” I asked, hands on my hips, the same way Anabelle would when I misbehaved. I grew up more like Ethel, unruly and mischievous, but I’d absorbed a lot of mannerisms from both of them.
“If you don’t reply, I’ll come in.” Mary yelled and opened the door. The petite woman wearing a Happy Life Senior Home blazer barged in. “No more pot brownies, Ethel!” She glared at me. “I know she’s here.”
Ethel crawled out from under the table. “Why? We made them with Liza’s prescription pot.”
Mary pinched the bridge of her nose. “Even if that was okay, which it isn’t, you did that by breaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night and using it unsupervised.”
Ethel waved a hand. “Nothing bad happened. We need to live too. Liza loves baking, and you lot are gatekeeping the kitchen. I love it too, even if I’m shit at it.”
“Same,” I mumbled, and Ethel low-fived me as if Mary wouldn’t see it.
“Don’t enable her, Milo. You’re a responsible young man.” Mary’s voice was stern.
“You confuse me with someone else,” I said at the same time Rowan said:
“Yes, he is.”
I looked at him, confused.
Mary sighed loudly. “Let’s hope we don’t get complaints from other residents’ families this time. You ladies make us look unprofessional.”
“Frank was on the lookout.” Ethel smirked. “He carried the jam jars too. We don’t discriminate.”
“I can’t deal with you.” Mary flopped her arms and marched out.
Ethel shrugged and took a seat in the chair. “She’ll get over it. Until we make pancakes tomorrow.” She released a witchy cackle and turned to Rowan. “You said it’s a three hours’ drive?”
Rowan was sitting like an obedient child at school, with hands awkwardly on his lap. “Yes. The wedding party is on an estate on the outskirts of Chicago.”
“And you’ll drive safely.” Ethel’s words formed a statement.
“I will.” Rowan placed a hand on his heart like a scout. He was adorable beyond belief.
“He knows, Ettie.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows.
“About my parents.” About my fear of driving. He was aware of many of my flaws and issues, and somehow he was still here.Not for long.
She nodded once. “You be good to Milo, Rowan. I’m not as strong as I used to, but my mind is sharp, and I’ve made interesting friends here.”
“There’s no need for threats,” I glared at Ethel.
“I wish I met Andrew sooner. I should have throttled him with my cane, but he avoided me for almost a year.” Ethel sneered.
I plopped onto a chair. Being threatened by a petite old lady had probably not been on Rowan’s bingo card when entering a nursing home, but he was handling it with grace, nodding with utmost seriousness.
“I promise he’ll be safe with me,” he said the simple words with such earnestness, a lump formed in my throat.
