There were still boxes everywhere.
For the life of her, Christina couldn’t figure out why she’d given in when Ana had insisted that she have a housewarming before she was fully moved in, but in Ana’s mind, it was good luck. At least she’d said “small gathering” and meant it. Just Ana, maybe her cousin Jed, Tony and Ilona from next door, and her own two cousins, Mike and Dan. The menu was simple: sodas, beer and wine from the quick mart down on the highway and barbecue delivered by Shorty’s. That was easy enough, she supposed.
But still…
This was her first day. The first day when she was completely out of her condo in Miami, when her boxes were filling this house, when she would sleep here for the first time after inheriting the house and deciding to move in.
Ana arrived early, while Christina was still considering the piano question. The piano was a crucial part of her work. It was almost like a physical attachment.
The light in the parlor was best, but she didn’t like having shelves piled with paper and drawers full of disks around, or all her office supplies cluttering up the small room. Still, her piano looked great right in front of the bay window.
It was staying, she decided. She would eventually find—and be able to afford—some good oak or maple office furniture that would suit the decor. And if not, the library was across the hall, a perfect place for office supplies and equipment. She could just walk across when she needed something. No big deal.
Why were there so many boxes? she wondered with dismay.
Because I’m incapable of parting with anything, she reminded herself.
She felt like the keeper of the family heritage or something. It was so hard to believe that everyone was gone except for Mike, Dan and herself. And neither Mike nor Dan felt the need to keep things like the cocktail napkin her mom had saved from her first date with her dad. Or all the hundreds of pictures from Ireland, or even the pictures of all of them as kids.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the clang of the old front door bell. She opened the door to let Ana in. Ana had a big box in her hand, with a plastic-wrapped cardboard tray on top. Christina quickly reached over to help her.
“No, no…if I just aim for a flat surface, I’ll be fine,” Ana told her cheerfully.
A flat surface sounded easy enough.
An empty flat surface involved deeper thought.
“The pass-through between the kitchen and dining room,” Christina said quickly.
Ana cut a path through the hall and parlor to reach her destination. Except for the clutter of boxes, the house was clean. It was a large, airy place, the perfect family home, in Christina’s mind. The hall worked as a breezeway, a traditional old time “shotgun” approach that allowed the house the best of whatever breeze was available. The stairway stood to the left of the hall and led to the second floor, a beautifully carved banister leading the way.
Ana knew her way around the house. She had been Christina’s friend forever, and had spent plenty of time here whenever Christina was up visiting her grandparents.
“This really is a super place,” Ana said, leading the way.
The house was wonderful. Christina had always loved it, and her grandmother, knowing how much she loved it and how well she would take care of it, had left it to her. But neither Mike nor Dan had been forgotten. They had received trust funds from the woman who had come to the U.S. to make her own way, and had done well simply by being hard-working, careful and smart.
“Okay,” Ana said, setting down her burden. “Now I’ll have a beer. Want one?”
“Sure.”
Ana headed for the refrigerator and produced two icy bottles, which they clinked together in a toast. “To you living here full-time,” Ana said.
“I always knew I would, but I really didn’t want the day to come,” Christina told her.
“She lived a good long life,” Ana said.
A long life, but an often painful one, Christina thought. Gran had lost Granda too soon, and then, much too young, her daughter and son, and their spouses, but she had called on an inner reserve and been there for her three grandchildren. Maybe she had been tired. Ready to join those who had gone before her.
“Ah, that she did,” Christina said softly, lifting her bottle again and offering her best imitation of her grandmother’s heavy accent.
The doorbell rang again. The two of them hurried to answer it.
“Hey, is Jed coming?” Christina asked Ana.
“He said he was. But that won’t be him. He said he was meeting a friend for something work-related this afternoon and he’d be late if he came at all.”
“Who would have figured he’d become a bestselling writer, huh?” Christina asked.
“I thought he was going to be a football hero and get me lots of dates,” Ana said with a sigh.
Christina rolled her eyes at her friend, shaking her head. Strange, she barely knew Jed anymore. He’d seemed like a god when they’d been kids. She’d seen him at her grandmother’s funeral, where he’d been reserved but kind, but she’d felt so bereft that she’d barely noticed anyone. He’d said the right things, though. While everyone else had been telling her what a good and long life her grandmother had lived, he had simply said that he knew how she would miss her gran, and that losing someone hurt, no matter how old they’d been, even if knowing they’d had a long life and lived it well eventually helped with the healing process.
He would know, she thought, having lost his wife when she was only twenty-five.
“Hey, there, you two,” she said, pleased, as she opened the door. Dan and Mike had come together. They were just a year apart and had often been taken for twins, they were so much alike. Dan had half an inch over his older brother’s height of six two, but they both had the deep red hair that seemed to run with an unbridled strength in the family, and the warm hazel eyes that had been Gran’s. Her own were blue—her father’s eyes.
“Welcome home, little cutie,” Dan said, stepping in and giving her a hug.
“Little? She’s five ten, if she’s an inch,” Michael said, shaking his head as he followed his brother inside. They loved to tease her about her height. It had started when she reached her current max in eighth grade and never stopped.
“Ha, ha, love you, too,” she said, accepting a hug from Michael in turn. They were both good-looking and always had been. She peered past them to the porch, then stared at them, puzzled.
“What, no dates?”
“Ana told us it was family night,” Dan said, grinning.
“Hey, there’s a real little bit,” Michael said, catching hold of Ana and lifting her up for a hug. She really was tiny—five feet even—and they loved to tease her, too.
“Put me down,” Ana commanded, then swung on Daniel. “And don’t you even think about it.”
“I’m innocent,” Dan said.
“Like hell,” Ana muttered, but she gave him a grin. Adulthood had taken them in different directions, but it didn’t matter. A bond had been formed when they were young, when this house, and Gran, brought them together, and it had never been broken.
Only Jed Braden had been on the outside, Christina thought. A year older than Michael, two years older than Dan. And somehow different, set apart. Maybe it had been his determination to go into the service. Not because he longed to go to war, but because he wanted the benefits to get through college. He’d been gone a lot once he joined up, and then he’d gotten married in a beautiful ceremony to the gorgeous, gentle Margaritte. He’d drawn even further