Chapter 37
Back in the kitchen, Mick’s already dunking a cookie into a glass of milk. Phoebe’s giggle cuts through the warm air, the smell of sugar and vanilla drifting between us.
“Try one, Billie!” she says, gesturing toward the cooling rack.
“I will. I just need to make a quick call. I’ll be right back,” I say, reaching into my purse for my phone.
I ease out the door and take a few steps down the driveway before pulling up Dean’s name and tapping call.
He answers on the first ring.
“Hi. Are you still at Froedtert?” I ask.
“Yes. Tour just wrapped. I’m waiting on an Uber. You okay?”
“Yes,” I say, breathless. “I have news.”
“Oh?”
“I talked to Phoebe about New York. Then we discussed it with Mick. She wants to go. We’re all on the same page.” The words rush out of me.
“Are you serious?” His voice lifts.
“Yes!”
“That’s amazing news.”
“I know,” I say, relieved.
“Did Mick push back?”
“A little. But he agreed pretty quickly.”
“That’s surprising.”
“I know. Maybe he’s relieved, deep down. It’s a lot to take on—raising a child. And he’s already spent so many years caring for his sister,” I say, wanting to believe my words.
“Yeah. It’s a huge responsibility,” he says. “But I’m excited about it.”
“So—not that it matters now—but how was Froedtert?”
“I liked it a lot. Impressive place. I could’ve done good work there—”
“But?”
“But…it’s not home.”
I stare up at the pale dome of sky and feel a flicker of disloyalty to this place—and to the people I love here.
“About that,” I say. “I told Mick that if Phoebe doesn’t adjust to the city, we will bring her back.”
“Definitely. If that’s what’s best for her.”
“Do you mean that? You’d really move here?”
“Of course. We’ll be a family.”
“Thank you, Dean,” I say, letting out a slow breath.
—
When I walk back into the house, Mick is alone in the kitchen, wiping down the counters.
“Where’s Phoebe?” I ask, setting my phone facedown on the counter.
“Getting changed,” he says, still wiping.
“Don’t clean up. I know you have things to do.”
“Change of plans. Phoebe wants to go fishing.”
“Oh. That’s fun,” I say, picturing them in his small aluminum boat.
“You’re invited,” he says, glancing up at me.
I hesitate. “Are you sure you don’t want some alone time with her?”
“I’m sure.”
“What about Joan?”
“I just talked to Eliot,” he says. “They’re coming back now, and he said he’ll hang out this afternoon and keep an eye on her.”
“That’s kind of him.”
“Yeah. And good news—they toured the Waters and liked it.”
“That’s great news,” I say. “It’s so close.”
“Yeah. Eliot said the staff was really nice, and they have a spot for her in memory care.”
“What did Joan think?”
“They said she was very cheerful and seemed to like it.”
I nod. “So what’s next?”
“We just have to sign some paperwork and pay her first month’s rent. I can take care of that and then pay myself back after we sell the house.” He pauses. “I assume you’ll want to be guardian of Phoebe’s finances, too?”
“That’s fine,” I say. “Probably easier to handle both. And I can take care of Joan’s stuff, too.”
“I got it covered. You’re going to have your hands full getting ready for Phoebe.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I guess she’ll move after school’s out?” he asks.
“I think that makes the most sense.”
He nods, looking out the window over the sink.
I study his profile, that familiar ache returning. “Mick?”
He turns to look at me. “Yeah?”
“Are you sure you’re okay with this decision?”
He gives me a pained smile. “I guess I have to be.”
“You don’t have to be. You get to feel how you feel,” I say. “And you can still overrule me on this.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’ve been here—with Erin and Phoebe. You’ve earned the right.”
He shakes his head. “You were Erin’s best friend. I trust you on this. And anyway—we both know you’re much smarter than I am.” He smiles.
I smile back. “You got a higher grade in Ms. Sprinkman’s class.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Here’s to peaking in the ninth grade.”
“Hardly.”
“I have to tell you, though…. For a moment there, I pictured you back here. Finally.”
I hold his gaze and feel suddenly, achingly young.
He leans in so slightly it feels like gravity—not a choice—and suddenly he’s close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath.
Phoebe’s footsteps pound through the foyer, and we both step back.