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She counted one, two, three, four, five, six, seven ducks. Their little bottoms looked white and fluffy, while their orange feet paddled furiously to keep them afloat.
She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. It took several failed shots before she managed to capture one where all seven ducks had their bottoms up at the same time.
She smiled at their antics, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of something other than overwhelming sorrow. It was a start.
Tomorrow, she would take another step toward getting her life back in order.
ChapterTwenty-six
“You did what?” Lillian choked, her fork poised in the air.
Hannah remained unfazed by Lillian’s reaction. She, Lillian, and their dad were sitting around the dinner table, eating pork chops and stuffing Hannah had made with no help from Lillian. She’d offered, but Hannah was wiser and had Lillian set the table instead.
“I ordered two tickets to the Parade of Homes tonight—Dad’s not up for it, but I am.” Hannah ignored Lillian’s shocked gaze, her tone unapologetic.
“You had no right.”
“If I left it up to you, nothing would happen.”
“I told you I’m not ready to see him again.”
“You’re never going to be suddenly ready to face him, Lil. But you’re carrying around a terrific burden—a heck of a lot of guilt and an irrational fear Tristan hates you. It’s crippling you emotionally and preventing you from moving forward. I can’t stand to watch your suffering any longer. It’s time you release these feelings, don’t you think?”
The trouble with having an empathic sister? Lillian couldn’t argue with Hannah’s assessment of her emotional state. And staring into her sister’s auburn eyes, a fragile barrier inside Lillian crumbled, and she understood with clarity how important it was to see Tristan again, to be able to let go and move on, to reclaim her inner peace.
Lillian glanced at her dad, who raised his eyebrows to let her know he agreed with Hannah, but wisely said nothing. She stabbed at the pork chop with her fork and knife, cutting off a small piece and shoving it into her mouth. Hannah’s talent made it impossible for Lillian not to see the truth of her own emotional state, but she didn’t have to like it.
“Fine,” she said around the bite of pork chop. “What time did you say it was?”
“I didn’t, but it runs from seven to nine and there are around a dozen homes to see. Tristan’s is the last one on the list, but we can skip the rest and just stop there if you want.”
No, Lillian didn’t want to stop there. Just the thought of seeing Tristan again made her stomach queasy and her legs shake and her palms sweat. She grabbed her glass of water to give herself time to formulate an answer, and in her haste, ended up tipping it over. Water and ice splashed across the table, spilling onto the floor and nearly landing in her dad’s lap. He moved his chair out from the table in the nick of time.
“Oh, geez. I’m sorry, Dad.”
“It’s okay…a little water never hurt anyone,” he said.
Lillian went to fetch a paper towel, but Hannah beat her to it, dabbing at the spill while her dad refilled her water glass.
“Thanks,” Lillian said, feeling like a child.
“I take it you’d rather not be first to Tristan’s house?” Hannah asked with an arch of her brows, referring to their earlier conversation.
Lillian sighed. “Last is better, I think.”
Hannah smiled, her gaze sympathetic, and tossed the paper towel into the trash, brushing her hands together. “Well, then, let’s leave at six thirty, so we’ll have plenty of time to tour the other homes before we get to Tristan’s, and you’ll have plenty of time to think about what you’ll say to him.”
Lillian swallowed the piece of pork chop and tried not to think about what the next few hours would bring. While she did not expect Tristan to forgive her, she did hope seeing him with Angelina would provide the closure she needed. She could wish them well and put an end to dwelling on the situation.
Her dad offered to load the dishwasher, so all too soon, she and Hannah had changed their clothes and were on their way to the first stop on the Parade of Homes, a 1920s brick Tudor–style home with a round turret on one side.
Lillian glanced down at her brown skirt, flowered blouse, and wedges. She’d carefully chosen an outfit that was both casual and chic and cool enough for the warm June evening.
Hannah pulled behind a line of parked cars on the street—apparently, the tours were popular, as the line stretched around the block.
The first home on the list was both beautiful and practical. Its elegant bow window in the living room housed a window seat, and when they had made their way inside, Lillian eyed the books lining the built-in bookshelves.
The hosts were gracious, inviting their visitors to look around. The sisters passed through a gleaming kitchen and formal dining room and cozy bedrooms to make even the pickiest homeowner envious. The tour ended in the postage-stamp-size backyard, and they were moving on to the next house.
