Page 5 of Things Left Unsaid

“Just Christy.”

“Bah. That hussy. I’ll never understand why you’re friends with her.”

With a smirk at Tee, I answer, “I don’t know why either.”

Grand-mèrehums in approval. “Whether or not you can afford the trip home because of work, Susanne, I need you up here.”

“Do you have the money to spare,Grand-mère?” That’s usually the best way of getting out of this situation.

As terrifying as she is, there’s little she can do long-distance with how miserly our bank accounts tend to run.

God help me if we ever strike oil.

It’d be just my luck if we did.

“I do,” she retorts, tone smug. “I’ll wire it over. I’ll expect you at the ranch before the end of the week.”

I gape at Tee, whose eyes are as wide as mine.

Horrified, I sputter, “B-But I-I need more notice than that,Grand-mère!”

“You never take a break as far as I know, Susanne, so that shark of a boss of yours can cut you some slack while you visit your dying grandmother.”

“You’re dying?! Is that why you need me to come home?” I cry, aghast.

Yet again, Tee marks the sign of the cross on her chest. “If she’s finally dying, thereisa god.”

Grand-mère, on the other hand, barks out a laugh. “I’ll die when I’m good and ready, Susanne, and that won’t be for another decade at least.”

Tee and I gulp.

My grandmother’s the only person in the world whom Death is probably scared of.

Unaware of our thoughts,Grand-mèreintones, “No, you tell that Rachel woman I’m ill and she’ll spare you.”

“I’ll… see what I can do.”

“You’ll do more than ‘see,’ child. Safe travels.”

I’m given no chance to counter that warning—there’s dead air in my ear.

Tee passes me a can of soda. “I need to call mynonnaand thank her for not being… that.”

Because her offering means she checked my blood sugar on the app we use to monitor my level, I pull the tab and take a big gulp of Coke. “Is it too late to be adopted?”

“Much too late. Do you think Rachel could fabricate a reason to keep you in the city?”

“No. You know that I do most of my work from home anyway and only commute twice a month. I use work as an excuse not to go north.” Tee checks the weather app on her phone and I glance at the screen. “The triplets said it’s been crazy warm recently.”

“I dunno. Looks like refrigerator temperatures to me. New York winters are tepid by comparison?—”

“Good thing it’s spring then,” I drawl.

She shivers. “I don’t miss Pigeon Creek’s version of winter or spring.”

“Me either.” Collecting my piping bag, I restart my earlier task—making tiny coconuts and using a scribe to replicate the husks—because I need the stress relief. “I wonder what’s going on.”

“Could it be the boys?”

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