Chapter 36
It feels like a lifetime since Mick and I sat here after Erin’s funeral two weeks ago, both of us not quite knowing what to say. Somehow, I still don’t.
Phoebe and I settle on the wicker sofa. Mick takes the chair across from us. Hank drops at Phoebe’s feet in a heavy flop. In the yard, the maple scatters dappled light across the freshly cut grass, patches of shadow and green. I know who mowed it.
I turn to Phoebe.
“Okay,” I say. “I want you to know that nobody is going to be upset with you. Mick and I are on the same team. We both just want what’s best for you.”
Phoebe looks down, her fingers twisting in Hank’s fur. “Then why does it feel like you’re mad?” she asks, peering up at Mick.
“I promise I’m not mad. I’m just trying to think through the pros and cons—the way we would with any big decision.”
Phoebe nods, solemn.
“New York is a long way from home and your school and your friends,” he says. “It’s one thing to visit—it’s another to live there. I’m not sure now is the time for another big change for you.”
Mick’s gaze turns to mine—not accusing, just searching. “What do you think, Billie?”
“I agree. I share those concerns,” I say. “It came up at dinner last night—and we discussed it again this morning. We were just talking.”
Mick’s fingers interlace as Phoebe looks out at the yard.
“Why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind, Phoebe? Why does moving to New York feel like something you might want to try?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It just feels heavy here. Everything reminds me that Mom’s gone. And everyone looks at me like I’m a tragedy.”
“You’re not a tragedy. A tragic thing happened to you,” Mick says.
“I know,” she says. “But it feels like people avoid me now. Like I’m just a girl whose mom died.”
“How would you feel about being in a place where nobody knew you?” Mick asks.
“But I wouldn’t be. I’d be with Mom’s best friend.”
I blink hard.
“That’s true.” Mick rubs the back of his neck. “Can you tell us how you felt about your school…before?”
The word before ripples through the air.
“You mean before Mom died?” Phoebe asks, braver than both of us.
Mick nods.
“It was okay,” she says. “But I don’t have a best friend…and sometimes I feel like I don’t fit.”
Her words pull me back to the uneasiness of middle school—remembering moments when Erin was the only thing keeping me afloat.
“Okay,” I say. “This is what I’m hearing: You want a change. Some space to be yourself. And you feel New York might give you that?”
She nods, looking relieved. “Yes.”
I look at Mick. He holds my gaze for a beat, then looks back at Phoebe.
He swallows. “I suppose we could give this a try if that’s really what you want.”
Phoebe’s lips curve. “Really?”
“Really,” he says.
“It doesn’t have to be forever,” I say, memories stirring. “We could call it a trial year. You finish fifth grade here. Then start sixth grade in New York. If it feels right, you stay. If not, we reconsider.”
“I like that plan. Can Hank come with me?”
“Of course,” I say. “You and Hank are a package deal.”
She bends down and scratches behind Hank’s ears. “You’re going to love Central Park,” she whispers to him. “So much to sniff.”
From the kitchen, the timer dings.
“Cookies are ready!” she says, darting inside as Hank trots behind her.
Mick meets my eyes.
“Do you really think this is what Erin would want?” he asks.
“I wish I knew.” I swallow. “I didn’t find a will. I still need to look through Joan’s things. But I’m not hopeful.”
“Me either.”
He looks away for a beat. “She reminds me of you,” he finally says. “I feel like she might belong somewhere bigger.”
“Maybe it’s not a bigger city she needs. Just a change of scenery.”
He nods, chewing on his bottom lip.
“And I meant what I said: If things don’t feel right, we’ll come back.”
He gives a small nod.
“I mean it, Mick. Dean’s open to moving here, too.
He’s touring Froedtert as we speak,” I say.
“But he was born and raised in New York. The city’s in his blood.
Just like Wisconsin’s in yours. And he’s about to get a big promotion.
Something he’s worked so hard for. So when Phoebe said she wanted to try New York, it felt like it might be a solution. ”
“I understand.”
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for Phoebe. And Erin. I know I left a gap, and you filled it. I won’t ever forget that.”
“I did what I could,” he says, holding my gaze.
Dean’s voice comes back—I see the way he looks at you.
I push the thought away.
From the kitchen, Phoebe calls for us.