Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Sure,” I say.
I take a look at the dark-colored pole with hooks protruding from the top. It’s seen better days, probably in the last century, but it does have a uniqueness about it. Character. Whatever Gianna decides to do with it will be incredible.
Audrey laughs at my reaction. “Vern is the name of Pearl’s dad. We thought it only made sense to name it after him.”
Gianna nods along as if this conversation is sensical.
“Was there another choice?” I ask, playing along. “It had to be Vern.”
Audrey’s eyes sparkle. There’s an innocence in them, an unsullied, potentially naive air about her that raises my curiosity. She seems opposite of Gianna in every way. They’re an interesting pair.
“I’m going to go,” Audrey says, picking up her keys from the coffee table. “Call me later.”
“For sure,” Gianna says.
Audrey tucks her chin, cheeks flushed and leaves quietly. Once the door snaps closed, I exhale—glad to have my girl all to myself.
“You were missed at dinner,” I say, venturing over to her easel. She’s made progress on the painting she’s been working on since I’ve known her. Every time I see it, there’s an adjustment. I don’t know what she’s creating, and I’m not sure she knows either. But the process of watching her make something out of nothing is better than any final product. “Evie was pissed at me for not bringing you along.”
“Did you tell her you invited me?”
“I did. She did not care. In Evie’s world, Evie makes the rules, and all logic and common sense are useless.”
She smiles. “How’s Big Ed?”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, hoping it keeps my blood pressure steady.
After dinner, we sat outside while Dad napped and had a long talk about the future. It was hard, and I don’t think any of us wanted to do it, but it was necessary. We had to get on the same page.
Mom admitted she needed help—or would soon. Elodie explained that we were worried about her and that she needed to prioritize seeing her friends and getting manicures. Whatever made her happy. Evie offered to move back in, which was met with a resounding no and a lot of laughs. I offered to move my schedule around to help with the doctor’s appointments and house maintenance. Mom reluctantly agreed.
“He had a bad day,” I say, sitting on the couch. Gianna curls up next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. “He asked about Bingo a bunch for some reason. Bingo was Elodie’s dog when we were growing up. He hasn’t been alive for probably twenty years.”
She stretches an arm across my middle, touching her lips against my bicep.
“We did get Mom to agree to having more help, though,” I say. “Elodie is taking the reins because she’s your prototypical oldest daughter. Everything and everyone is her responsibility, although she doesn’t say it like that.” I slide my arm around Gianna’s back and hold her close. “I think this is her way of feeling like she has some control over the situation. She’ll make her lists and monitor everyone’s emotions, and that’ll help her sleep at night.”
Gianna grins. “Do you think if she came over and helped me get organized that she would sleep even better?”
I chuckle. “What would you do if everything were organized around here?”
“Get itchy, probably.” She laughs, too. “I think I’m the opposite of Elodie. Chaos feels like control to me. I’ve never realized that until now.” She pauses, lost in her thoughts. “Mayhem makes it harder to be surveilled. You can’t fail if you don’t play, so to speak.”
That’s interesting, but knowing what I know about her family, it makes sense.
“I’d love to get you and Elodie in a room together,” I say, stoking my fingers down her arm. “Aside from the organizational part, I think the two of you would really get along.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re both brilliant and creative, although in different ways. You’re a brilliant artist, and Elodie is more innovative when it comes to working through a problem. She’s never taken no for an answer like someone else I know.”
Gianna kisses my arm again, and I think I feel her smile against my shoulder.
“What about Evie?” she asks. “Would we get along?”
I hum while I think about that. “Yeah, you would. I mean, of course, you would. But she’s kind of all over the place. She could call me from a prison in Thailand tomorrow, and I wouldn’t be all that surprised.”
Gianna giggles. “Really?”
“Really. She gets an idea, and she does it. She doesn’t think it through, contemplate the ramifications, or perform a risk assessment. She jumps in with both feet … probably in heels, to really grab headlines.”
“She sounds fun.”
“Depends on who you are to her,” I say. “If you’re her friend and can ignore her calls, she’s probably a barrel of fun. If you’re her brother? Not so much.”