Page 164 of The Route to You

What she really needed was her sister.

She dialed Penny.

“Hey,” Penny said when she picked up. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Sloan said, her heart squeezing a little. The fact that Penny still assumed something had to be wrong for Sloan to call her was a sad indicator of the last few years of their relationship.

But I’m calling now. That’s progress.

“I decided to go see the storage facility with Mom’s stuff, and I just wanted the company.”

Penny’s laugh was light. “I still don’t get why you’re so attached to all those antiques. If I’d have known what a big deal they were to you, I would have told you about them years ago.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re shockingly practical, you know.” Sloan went over to the lock and slipped the key inside. The lock clicked open, then she pulled it away and pushed the door open.

“I’m not shockingly practical. I’m just more like Dad, and you’re more like Mom was—attached to baubles and bits that collect dust.”

Sloan searched around for a light. “Dad is the definition of shockingly practical; you understand that? Do you know where the light is in this unit?”

“Hmm . . . I think there was a switch somewhere on the right wall.”

“Hold on a sec.” Sloan put Penny on speaker, flipped the flashlight of her phone on, then found the switch.

As the lights came on, Sloan blinked at the stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes, neatly organized with the attention to detail that only her father was capable of. Labeled on the outside. And not just boxes—furniture.

The duvet and bedroom set from her parents’ bedroom. Chairs that had belonged to Grandpop. The dining room table. Sloan walked toward it in a daze. I can’t believe it’s real. Yet—there it was. And right by one of the table ends, the scar in the wood that Sloan had put there as a little girl by dragging her fork against the surface.

Mom hadn’t yelled at her even though the babysitter had. She’d just laughed and pulled Sloan into her arms.

“People are more important than things, silly goose.”

Tears came to her eyes.

“Sloan?”

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m switching you to a video call,” Penny said decisively.

The phone buzzed in Sloan’s hand, and she blinked the tears away and accepted the video. Penny’s face greeted her. “You doing okay?”

“Hanging in there.” Sloan made her way down a center aisle Dad had left in the space. Boxes were all to the right, furniture was all to the left. All the furniture that had meant something. “I just . . . I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it makes you happy. It’s all yours.”

Sloan’s jaw dropped. “You don’t want anything?”

Penny shrugged. “Not really. What am I going to do with that stuff?”

“Mom’s china? Her jewelry?”

“I don’t wear jewelry. And I’m definitely never going to use china—what, when the king of England comes to visit?” Penny said with a laugh. “Have at it, darling. I wouldn’t wish sifting through all that crap on anyone.”

“It’s not crap,” Sloan said, tearing up again.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” Penny gave a wan smile. “I know they’re treasures to you. Hell, some of it is probably even worth some good money. I just don’t want to have to deal with it. And I want you to have it. I think you need it a lot more than I do anyway, and I have no use for any of it.”

At least she was being honest.