Page 2 of The Love Ambush
“I’m not little,” Emily shrieks as Sophie huffs and stomps off to her room.
Her door slams as I turn to face my youngest sister. “You know what I meant, Em.”
Her eyes shimmer with tears. “Everyone in this house treats me like a baby. I don’t want to go to the trunk-or-treat. It’s going to be so boring.”
I feel for her, I really do. I understand not wanting to do something, and she already has school every day and chores at home. “It’s for Noah’s clinic. It’s part of my job. The job that pays for your clothes and food.”
She sniffs and looks up at me. “I miss Mom. Do you think she’s okay?”
The last I heard of our mother, she was living with an old friend in Seattle. That was eight months ago, and I haven’t been able to reach Mom or her friend since. There’s no right thing to say to Emily. “I hope so. I bet she misses you, too.”
Emily shakes her head. “Probably not. If she did, she’d be here.”
I wrap an arm around her and try to pull her in for a hug, but she shimmies free. “Addiction is a mental illness, honey. She’s not herself.”
Emily glares at me. “And what about Dad? What’s his excuse for leaving us?”
Of all of us, Sophie was closest to Dad and was hurt the most by his abandonment. Emily still misses him, too, though. We all do, even though I also hate him for leaving us. “If I had a way to get in touch with him, I’d ask him.” I’m not sure that’s true, because I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
She huffs. “He wouldn’t make us go to a stupid trunk-or-treat. He always took us to do fun things.”
Emily only remembers the good times with our dad. He was all about the fun when it suited him, but he was absent moreoften than not. I get it. When I was a kid, I thought he hung the moon and all the stars. He was just that kind of fun dad. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized he didn’t always show up for me when I needed him. “If you help out with the trunk or treat, I’ll get you whatever book you want from the bookstore and a hot chocolate.” Is bribing a child wrong? Probably. But it’s the best trick I’ve got to keep my sisters happy.
Her smile is instant and huge. “Awesome. Thanks, Gentry.”
She hurries off, and I finish getting ready, which involves putting on overalls, a plaid shirt, and a floppy hat. I use face paint to draw a triangle over my nose, a few stitches on my forehead, and black lines with stitches extending from the corners of my mouth. I also put on mascara, eye shadow and lipstick, because I still want to look pretty.
My sisters look as excited about this as they do when I drag them to the dentist twice a year. It’s going to be a very long day.
I hustle them out the door, hit unlock on the key fob for my car, and freeze in place on the porch because our yard, which was covered in a layer of leaves about a foot thick, has now not a single leaf anywhere in sight. “Emily, Soph, did you rake the lawn?”
They both have earbuds in, connected to their music or favorite podcast, respectively, and don’t hear me. I can’t think of when they might have done it.
It’s got to be my mystery person. The same person who fixed the rotten porch step last month and cleaned out my gutters the month before that.
I’ve checked with all the neighbors and none of them are fessing up. It’s a mystery I’m going to have to accept will never be solved, and it’s so frustrating, because I very much want to thank whoever’s doing it.
I try to keep up with all the little things that need doing beyond basic cleaning, but so much falls through the cracks, andI’m worried there are some things I’m missing that I don’t even know to watch out for.
The weight of the impending day-long task of raking leaves rolls off my shoulders, and I sigh in relief. There’s nothing quite like having something taken off my plate with no guilt or having to beg my sisters to help.
I hurry off the porch and into the car. The day is chilly and overcast, but it’s supposed to warm up in the next hour. I told Noah, my boss, that eleven in the morning seemed too early for a trunk-or-treat, but our medical clinic is one of many, many locations in town offering the toddler-focused event and he thinks this is our best chance to shine.
I’m definitely going to need coffee.
***
“Hello, Lendews,” Lazy Holiday greets us cheerily as we walk into his bookstore slash coffee shop.
The place is packed, but Lazy glides through the crowd over to us, smiling at everyone he passes, as though he’s one with the flow of people. The fact that he’s over six feet tall and stick thin probably helps.
He stops in front of us, and Emily leaps forward and gives him a hug. “Hi, Mr. Lazarus.”
“Hey, Lazy,” I say. “Looks like today’s a good day for business.”
He grins as he pats Emily’s back and releases her. “It sure is. Dani’s started offering these amazing cinnamon buns on Saturday mornings, and it’s been bringing in the big crowds.” Lazy’s sister-in-law, Dani Holiday, not only owns the local sanctuary farm, she sells coffee and her homemade pastries at Lazy’s shop.
Lazy’s younger sister, Hailey, and I were best friends in high school, so I spent a lot of time in the Holiday house as a kid. Being five years older than me, Lazy didn’t have much time forme or Hailey, but he’s been a really good friend since our mom left.
