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Getting divorced, going through a custody battle, and eventhinkingof moving her entire life and boys to somewhere new is no doubt overwhelming. Not to mention the hellishness of job hunting and reentering the workforce after so long as a stay-at-home mom. So, being the thoughtful sister I am, I take the bait she throws and talk about the gallery.
“It’s been less than a week, Piper,” I say, shaking my head. “How did you even have time to work on my project?”
She squares her shoulders and heads for the door. We have more bags to bring in. “I need to get my head in the game. I haven’t worked in almost nine years, Georgia. If I can do a good job for you, it’ll be a confidence boost.”
“You’re nervous about working again?”
She gives me a look over her shoulder that says,Duh. What are you, stupid?
I grin and follow her outside. She’s got two big suitcases of her own, which we haul up to the room across the hall from the boys’. I bought a fresh duvet and sheets and left some folded towels and a fluffy bathrobe on the end of the bed. Her ensuite bathroom has toiletries and scented candles, ready for her to use to relax that tension gripping her muscles.
The candles are courtesy of Simone. She brought the gorgeous-smelling soy wax candles over to my house when she came over to help with the bunk beds, claiming my house was in dire need of homey scents. Then she proceeded to drink wine and not help me with the bunk beds at all, laughing every time I swore at the nonsensical instructions. It was fun.
Piper looks around after setting her suitcase down beside the closet and lets out a long sigh. “This is too nice, Georgia.”
I straighten a corner of the duvet and fluff a pillow. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll always be welcome here, and you’ll always deserve the best.”
A shaky inhale, then Piper frowns, freezing. “It’s too quiet.”
“Huh?”
She heads for the bedroom door. “The boys. They’re too quiet. That means they’re doing something they’re not supposed to.”
We rush back downstairs, calling out the boys’ names. Alec finally answers from the small family room just across from my reading room. The previous owners set it up as a theater room, and even though I don’t watch much TV, I didn’t see any sense in changing it.
“In here, Mom!” Alec shouts.
When we get to the theater room, the boys are staring at my wall-mounted TV with wide eyes. They sit on my plush theater-style chairs, not moving. Piper’s shoulders drop in relief, like she was expecting a bonfire or an overflowing toilet or fresh holes in my drywall.
Nate points to the blank screen. “Is that a smart TV?”
I grin. “Yep.”
“I’ve never seen one so big,” Alec breathes. He whips his head to his mother. “Can we watch YouTube?”
Piper gets that stern expression on her face again. “You can watchtwovideos.” She holds up two fingers for emphasis. “Pick one each, and that’sit.”
The boys nod excitedly, and I grab the remote from the coffee table and navigate to the video streaming app. The boys chatter, jump around, and then attack their mother without warning, tackling her to the ground. It looks like a planned attack they’ve executed before, and they giggle the whole time. Piper ends up on her butt on the floor under a pile of little boys’ limbs, screeching as her sons tickle her.
When they quiet down, she ruffles Nate’s hair and kisses Alec on the crown of his head. Her face softens, and I see nothing but love in her eyes. I can’t help but smile. For the first time since Simone and the girls came over, my house doesn’t feel so big and empty anymore.
We get the TV set up, give the boys a snack and some water, then head to the kitchen to grab food of our own. I watch my sister as she inspects the contents of my fridge and clear my throat.
“So,” I start. “You want to talk about the job hunt? The thought of moving? How did Jacob take the custody decision?”
Piper pulls out a Tupperware container full of leftovers from the fridge, opens it, and sniffs. She snaps it shut again and says, “Nope. Don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to hear my ex-husband’s name. And I don’t want to talk about anything related to family court and divorce, and Icertainlydon’t want to talk about going back to work after nearly a decade at home.” She turns to me and smiles. “I want to talk about your new art gallery.”
I nod. Should have listened to myself earlier; Piper is not ready to open up. My sister is the strongest woman I know, but I can tell that she’s one piece of bad news away from a breakdown.
“Well,” I say slowly, “basically, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“That’s never stopped you before,” Piper replies, grinning. She walks to the last bag that we set down by the front door and pulls out a big portfolio and a few flooring and paint samples. Fanning everything out on the kitchen island, she takes a deep breath.
“The walls will be a crisp, clean white,” she informs me. “As far as the flooring goes, I’d like to talk to your contractor. Polished concrete can look very chic, but I’m not sure it’ll be right for this town. We could go for a warm hardwood instead. I saw some exposed roof beams in the photos you sent me, so we can draw on those for inspiration.”
I lean over and scan her portfolio, pointing to one of the images. “This lighting is really cool.”
“Oh, I’ve been reading all about lighting,” Piper says, flipping through the portfolio to show me pictures she’s printed off. “We need something that can be customized based on what you’ll be exhibiting. Also, look at these partial walls. Since your gallery is a double-height space, I think these floating partitions that don’t go all the way up would look cool. We can put them on casters or maybe on tracks so you can move them around. It’ll give the place an airy, open feel. Depending on your budget for the renovations, of course.”
