Page 27 of Yes No Maybe

“Um, I have an early meeting tomorrow.”

The excuse drops out like I’ve hit a lever on the dunking game at the fair.Game over.

My eyes narrow. “It’s not even nine.”

“I have a million things to do.”

“Yeah, but don’t you always?” My lips coil into a cool smile as I say it—one she matches because she knows I’m right. A million things to do, so busy she can barely breathe—that’s her to a T.

Still, I say, in my gentlest voice, “One glass. Please?”

She moves aside and lets me in. “Only because Edgar approves. He’s usually skittish about new people.”

I nuzzle his nose, and he gives me a playful bop on mine with his paw. “He knows I’m a cat person… and a Poe person.”

She snickers, closing the door behind me. I carry Edgar into the living room, trying to hide my double shock—first, that I made it this far, and second, at how the place looks.

A soft sage covers the walls, replacing Ben and Margot’s thirty-year beige. She’s repainted the trim white, pulled up the old carpet, and refinished the buttery hardwoods. A soft shag area rug makes the living room look cozy and brings out the pops of blues and greens in her throw pillows and decorations.

Her fingers lace behind her back, and she bobs on her bare feet, looking nervous as I scan the room.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Really?” she breathes out. “Um, thanks. It’s coming along.”

“It looks amazing. Guess I really didn’t think about how dated it looked when Ben and Margot were here. It needed an update.” I eye the old copy ofThe Little House, proudly centering the coffee table. “That’s nice to see. It really means something to you, this place?”

“My Grandpa Ro used to say owning property is the American dream, and sharing it with others makes it even better. That’s what he and my Grandma Betty did—opened their home to me when Mom was deployed, and fostered kids like my sister, Mira. Buying this house makes me feel like they’re still with me. That it looks like the house in the story makes it even more special. Mom got sick of reading it, but it was my favorite. The pages were rumpled, and the spine creased, you know? Like well-loved library books?”

I nod, knowing exactly what she means. “The Hobbit… that’s the most rumpled and creased one in my library.”

She lights up. “Ah, definitely a book that should be well-loved.”

Holding up the wine bottle, she carries it to the kitchen. I follow, leaning against the white-tiled counter as she gets a glass and the corkscrew.

Edgar gets antsy, so I free him. He saunters away, high-tailed.

She hands over a wine glass, looking hesitant. “I’m fostering soon, too. Sara arrives at the end of the month.”

“Holy shit, really?” I say, feigning surprise—I must be careful not to let on that I’ve eavesdropped. “That’s amazing. She’ll have the second bedroom?”

“For three months, while her father’s, um, working some things out. It’s been a long process, but I’m nearly there.”

I motion down the hallway. “Can I show you something?”

She nods, and I lead her down the hall like it’s my place more than hers. I stop short at the half-painted room, the floor covered in plastic tarps.

“I’m working on it. The home inspection’s next week. I haven’t gotten furniture yet.” She sounds embarrassed, as if I’ve walked in on the room half-dressed.

I open the closet door, showing her the crudely carved initials inside.C + Dnext to a crooked heart. I run my finger along the rough edges, warmed by memories but chilled by his absence at once.

“Who are they?”

“Corey—Ben and Margot’s son—and my brother, Devin. He died at seventeen. Cancer.”

“Oh, Jack, I’m sorry.” Sincerity wraps her face—it’s not an automatic response, but a heartfelt one.

A muted smile pushes through, and for a moment, this isn’t about getting material for my book but sharing something important to me.

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