Page 144 of On a Fault Line

I turn back and see my oldest brother laughing.

“Keep it up,” Angie threatens, “and I’ll tell Claire to pour you some of her mystery juice. You’ve never had to endure any of her health fads like I had to during our college days. This will be a surprise for your taste buds for sure.”

Graham holds his hands up in defense, but he can’t wipe the silly smirk off his damn face.

“When Claire gets overwhelmed,” Nic explains, “she goes full throttle on the nutrition stuff. And now that she can’t consume the actual beverages herself, she is really playing up your part in her happiness.”

I exhale loudly. “Ugh.” No one wants to make that woman sad, so we are stuck with this one task. Surely, I can consume whatever she gives to me without christening her new kitchen with my vomit.

Surely.

“She says the concoction is a miracle cure for wrinkles, if that makes any difference in your mood…”

“Nic, I’m twenty-two. If I have wrinkles now, then there’s no cure for the inevitable.”

“Okay, fine, Penny. But when she cries, this is on you.”

I smack his arm. “Wow. Way to guilt me, Punk.”

“Yeah, really,” Angie grumbles. “This drink just better not have carrots in it. I will boycott anything Claire makes with carrots.”

I can’t stop giggling. “That’s where you draw the line?”

“Yup.”

I remember Angie sharing the Carrot Diet story with us, and just thinking about it makes me shudder for real.

No, thank you.

When I walk through the front door, I am immediately overcome with awe.

The two-story entryway has a huge, modern chandelier hanging from the ceiling, polished wooden floors, and a grand staircase that looks like it belongs to a queen. Of course, if Nic had his way, Claire wouldn’t be using it for the next few months.

“What do you think?” Claire says, joining us.

“It’s exquisite,” Angie says with wonder.

I nod. “It’s truly magical. And just think, every holiday, you can decorate this entryway and make it your own.”

Tears fill her eyes, and I can’t help but join her in the emotion. “I’ve always wanted a forever home, and my Nic has given it to me.”

I lean into my brother and wrap my arm around his waist. “You are a good man, Nic.” My eyes meet his. “Are you crying?”

He sniffles. “No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“It’s the onions Claire is chopping up in the kitchen,” he defends.

“Onions?” Angie says in disgust. “Oh, please no. Bring back the carrots.”

Claire waves her fingers at us, her eyes squinted. “No spying on my surprise.”

Angie sighs. “Fine.”

“Let me show you all around.”

And she does. Room by room, she guides us through, telling us what she plans in terms of decorating.

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