Page 65 of Love on the Byline

Surprised, she took a seat on the large, cushy sofa and tappedon her mother’s icon on her phone.

“Blake, hi.” Her tone was careful, which put her on edge.

“Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“Fine, fine. Busy as usual. You know how it is.”

“Is everything all right?”

They usually spoke once a week, on Sunday mornings.

Her mother gave a long-suffering sigh. “Things would be alot better if my child was home where she belongs.”

“Mom.”

“I know, I know. You’re all grown now, and determined to belike your grandfather, traipsing all over the globe. You see wherethat got him.”

“I don’t think granddad’s...condition has anything to dowith his job, Mom.”

The response was an indignant huff.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Blake said. “Didyou need—”

“I thought you might want to know we’re selling the house.”

Blake’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean, selling thehouse? Why would you do that?”

The line was silent for a moment before her mother finallyspoke.

“To be frank, we need the money.”

“But why the house? You could sell...” Nothing came to mind.

Her mother sighed. “It’s for the best, sweetheart. It’s toomuch house for us, now that you and your brothers have moved out, and we thinkit will be better if we get something smaller.”

She felt a knot forming in her stomach as she processed thewords.

The house was too big for two people and what hermom said made sense, on paper. But it felt like she was losing something—a partof her childhood that she hadn’t fully let go of quite yet.

Home was where she’d listened to her granddad’s stories,spinning her dreams from the thread of his words. Home was familiar, safe, andsteady. She had been feeling untethered since moving to L.A., and losing thetouchstone of her family’s house...

She felt numb. And childish.

“I understand,” she said slowly. “When is this happening?”

“As soon as possible,” her mother replied in a soft,cautious voice. “We have to put it on the market before the end of summer.You’ll have to come visit and go through your things.”

She licked her lips and nodded, even though her mothercouldn’t see her. “Yeah. What about Granddad’s room?”

There was a slight pause. “We...we packed up his things andmoved them into storage, until we can figure out what to do with them.”

A spike of irrational anger made her breath catch in herthroat. Blake hadn’t considered the possibility of Trent’s room beingdismantled and boxed up, his old PC and typewriter put away. All the awards,the plaques, the framed articles...where were they?

“Blake?”

She’d tuned out. “I’m here. Sorry, I’m...on assignment.”

The window over the sink was open when she walked into thesmall kitchen. Through it, she could see white-crested waves undulating as theymoved closer to shore, sparkling in the sunlight and casting glimmeringreflections on the sand.

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