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“Disgusting. They sent me in to check out a vacated apartment today. It was hoarded. Floor-to-ceiling garbage. And the toilet had stopped working at some point, so they used the bathtub instead. I had to call in a hazmat team.”

She looked horrified. “Ewwwww . . .”

“Ewww is right. Then I got stung by a hornet.” I looked at the welt on my arm.

“Did you put anything on it?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t have anything. It’s fine.”

Something crashed in the other room, followed by cursing. I pushed off the counter. “And that’s your boyfriend tearing the drywall.”

I went to help my brother find a stud.

Holly

CHAPTER 7

“This is exactly what they mean when they say, ‘If he wanted to, he would.’”

Jillian was holding up the brown paper bag. I’d gone to get it from the car because she wanted to see it after I told her the story.

We were sitting in the sun on the small, plant-filled balcony outside Grandma’s living room. She was napping.

Grandma didn’t nap.

She especially didn’t nap when people were over to visit.

I’d texted the family group chat today and told them it was time to start saying their goodbyes, that if they wanted to come, they should come now.

“You should find out who this guy is,” Jillian said.

“I think he’s old,” I said.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. He does old-guy stuff? He travels with a compressor.”

She nodded sagely. “Yeah. That does give me ‘dad’ vibes.”

We had the Doobie Brothers playing softly from a small speaker. We were sitting in the sun, drinking iced coffee. I hadn’t spent enough time outside recently. It was nice.

Speaking of nice . . .

“I noticed a cute guy in the elevator earlier,” I said.

My sister arched her eyebrow. “You did? What did he look like?”

“Kind of rugged? Beard. He had a dog and a tool belt. Red tools.”

“Red tools, green flag. Did you talk to him?”

I shook my head. “I’m not in a decent headspace for that right now. At all. But it was nice to finally notice someone again. Good to know there’s still a sex drive in there somewhere,” I mumbled.

We sat in silence, listening to the music while she peered at me through her sunglasses. “So how long.”

She didn’t have to tell me what she meant. I gazed out over the railing at the pink trumpet trees in bloom. “One to three days. That’s my best guess.”

She let out a slow breath through her nose. “She had a great life.”