“That and because we’re two people living in a one-person tent. So to speak,” he explained. “I have a small one-bedroom apartment and it’s not good.”
“And you’re certain Chrissy won’t change her mind?”
“Absolutely.”
Maddie hesitated. “Are you going to sell the house?”
“Thought about renting it out in case Chrissy changes her mind in the future. But right now … I can’t rent it with all of my sister’s belongings still inside.”
“That’s what got to you,” Maddie murmured. “There’s still a sweater and bathrobe of my dad’s in Mom’s closet.”
The dog down the street barked again. And Mrs. Morton crossed the street to talk to her neighbor.
J.C. barely knew Maddie. Funny to be having this conversation with her. But none of his friends could really empathize. Some had lost a parent, but no one had lost everyone. Certainly no one else had the crucial role of caring for the sole survivor.
Maddie swiped at her wayward hair. He liked the way it sprang back with a mind of its own. “Do you have anyone to help you go through your sister’s belongings?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “No one else will know what’s important.”
“Not necessarily,” she objected mildly. “Thinking of things in categories could help. You can decide if there’s a special garment, like my dad’s sweater, you want to save. If not, then it doesn’t take a personal eye to empty closets. Same is pretty much true for the kitchen with the exception of heirloom pieces. Furniture can be sorted through, or just stored for now. Jewelry, papers, other keepsakes can be packed and labeled for when you feel it’s time to decide about them.”
J.C. sighed. “You make it sound reasonable—”
“It is if you’ll accept help.”
“It’s not a job I can ask anyone to tackle.”
“You didn’t ask. I’m offering.” With her back against the cloudy gray exterior of the house, Maddie’s eyes had changed again. But this time the gray held no storm warnings. “Before you mention my mother, she’ll come with me. I’m guessing there’s a comfortable chair and a television. It’ll be an outing for her that isn’t tiring.”
“For her, maybe not. But you—”
“I can’t believe I look that fragile,” Maddie declared. “To hear you talk, I’m so delicate it’s a wonder I don’t blow away in the breeze.” She held out one hand as though testing the air. “Even in this breeze. You, of all people, should know how good it makes a person feel to help someone. I’d like to help. You’re doing Mom a world of good. I can already see small improvements. Besides, you and Chrissy need to be able to move on. Once this house is rented to another family, it won’t seem so scary anymore.”
“A friend suggested hiring an estate service,” he admitted.
“That might be taking it a tad too impersonal. Do you recall grilling me about who helps with Mom? Now, it’s my turn. Who helps with Chrissy? Who can sort through the house? If that’s you, will it be between appointments and surgeries?”
“And I thought I felt bad being inside the house.”
She laughed, tipping her head back, allowing the laughter to gather and spill like a bright waterfall. “Touché.”
Somehow, his dread had disappeared.
Maddie held out her hand, palm side up, her eyes still dancing. “I’ll need a key.”
“I’m a little nervous,” Maddie admitted, fitting the key in the lock.
“You should be.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe—”
“Other-may,” Maddie resorted to pig Latin to remind her friend of Lillian’s presence.
“Oh, now you remember.”
“I never forgot.” The key to Fran’s house turned easily and Maddie pushed open the door. “Mom, you like getting out, don’t you?”
Lillian smiled. “I like new places.”
Samantha rolled her eyes again. “And it’ll be new for a month of Sundays.”
Maddie elbowed her friend. “I thought you liked J.C.”
“I didn’t expect you to take on organizing his life.”
Maddie flinched. “Do you think he feels that way? And quit rolling your eyes before they fall out of your head.”
“The only one here out of her head—”
Maddie grasped the handles of her mother’s wheelchair and pushed her inside. “How about some TV, Mom? The cable’s still on, so you can watch a movie or Animal Planet.”
Lillian considered. “Have I seen Animal Planet before?”
She watched it every day. “I think so.” Flipping through the channels, Maddie put the TV on an old movie her mother had seen dozens of times. Fortunately, it was new to her each and every time. Uncapping the thermos of tea she’d brought, Maddie poured some in a cup and placed it on the table next to Lillian.
She caught up to Samantha in the hallway, where she stood, leaning slightly on her cane as she studied family pictures grouped over a console table. “Seems hard to believe they just went to sleep and never woke up.”
“I don’t know J.C. well enough to say this, but I think he feels the same way.”
“As though he might wake up one day and find out it was all just a bad dream.” Samantha shook her head. “That’s how I felt about Andy.” Samantha’s brother had died in a plane crash, ending his young life far too soon.
Maddie linked her arm with Sam’s. “What we’re doing, it’s a good way to give back.”
Sam’s voice thickened. “Yeah.” When she had returned to Rosewood paralyzed from a fall, she’d nearly burned down her parents’ entire home. She succeeded in destroying the kitchen. But friends and neighbors had stepped up, rebuilding it, making it even better than before. And in the process, she had reconnected with her old love and now husband, Bret. Sam cleared her throat. “Where do you want to start?”
“Master bedroom, I think. J.C. insists on hiring someone to move the boxes once they’re packed, so I’d like to retrieve the jewelry for his safety deposit box. Then I thought of recording an inventory.” She held up her cell phone. “I can shoot photos of the big pieces to J.C., let him decide what to keep.”
They entered the carpeted master bedroom, feet sinking pleasantly into the deep pile. The four-poster bed looked as antique as the fireplace it flanked. In the curve of the bay window was a cozy reading area.
“Nice,” Sam murmured.
Maddie walked to the open closet, seeing what J.C. had, instantly understanding why it had been so difficult. Although Maddie hadn’t known Fran, remnants of her personality remained.
“What does he want to do with the clothes?”
“Donate them. But I thought we might find one outfit that we’d tuck away for Chrissy.”
“Wonder if Fran kept her wedding dress,” Samantha mused.
“Oh, Sam! That’s perfect! You old softie, I said you’d turned into a romantic.”
Samantha grinned. “Okay. So we’re both hopeless.”
The doorbell rang. A young man sent by J.C. to deliver packing boxes offered his help. Maddie showed him to the dining room where he could assemble the flat cartons.
“Efficient,” Samantha commented, sitting on the bed, folding clothes. “You’re right.