Page 16 of Keepsake

The whole table held its collective breath. Dash flinched like an invisible hand just slapped him right across his face. Vienna never finished her sentence. Instead, her lip quivered, her eyes so huge they took over her face.

Mamá hiccupped. Papá looked away.

I tried again. “I have something to tell you.”

Dash’s eyes left his sister and focused on me. “Tell us.”

There was a defiance there. Something like he dared me to bring more bad news.

“Do you remember Logan?” I asked them.

I planned a hundred different starts for this conversation. I knew nothing would make this easier. When they all three shook their heads, I kept going. “She was your mom’s best friend when they were growing up.”

“She’s the mantel lady,” Vienna said with the smallest of voices.

I frowned, but Mamá was nodding. “Sofia kept a picture of them on the mantel.”

It wasn’t there anymore.

“Yes, the mantel lady. She was Sofia’s good friend and when your mother…” I cleared my throat. “Your mother left a document saying she’d like Logan to take care of you.”

“We are leaving Tita’s house?” Vienna asked.

“No!” Mamá thought it was good to scream.

“Not if you don’t want to. Sofia thought it was a good fit. Logan just wants to meet you. She wants a chance.” And as I said it, it was my mother who I faced.

“So mom died,” Dash drawled. “And now some lady is coming over trying to take us away?”

“She’s a virtual stranger.” Mamá’s hands went up.

God. This again. I pinned my mother with a look. “You saw her grow up. She’s not a stranger. She’s not taking anyone, alright? She just wants a chance to get to know you.”

I barely finished saying it, and I heard the car parking outside. I looked through the window, finding Logan’s Beemer out of place in front of the house. Vienna stretched her neck, trying to see too, and it was Papá who stood up mumbling he was going to get the door.

“No one needs to worry. She’s just here to introduce herself.” I thought it was best to say.

None of them were paying attention to me. Even Lachlan, who I thought only understood half of what I was saying, was holding his breath as we heard Papá opening the front door.

I heard Logan’s voice. She had a gentle tone, feminine and controlled. She was wearing heels. I could hear them as they tapped on the wood floors.

They turned for the kitchen, appearing at the door, where we all waited in silence.

She was so small, but I noticed she always squared her shoulders, her little nose up. Her hair was parted in the middle and secured together in a businesslike low pony.

Logan was wearing her office clothes, a pencil skirt and blouse. Her eyes scanned the table, landing on each one of us as she breathed in, like she was trying to muster some courage.

“Hey there, Logan,” I offered.

“Hi,” she tried.

Her eyes were back on the kids. She wanted this. She really wanted this.

“Why don’t you sit down, Logan? I’ll get everyone coffee,” my mother surprisingly offered.

“I’ll take coffee too, Tita,” Vienna said.

“No, you won’t.” Mamá shook her head and left the table to boil water.

---