Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
CHARLIE
Spotted:
Rumor has it a certain author’s family is none too pleased about where she’s been staying while she’s in town. Even though our favorite former rake has been a perfect gentleman.
But what do they know? They aren’t from around here.
The next morning, the Kilpatricks hold a family meeting in my yard. They argue, they cry, they hug, but most of all? They put on a show the hedgerow will never forget. I’m sure the Victorian enjoyed every second.
While they work things out “privately”—sharing their business with the entire neighborhood because they didn’t want to stay inside and argue in front of us—I perform miracles with the Sharp twins. When Alice and her family finally join us again, they notice the breakfast Lydia made first: a hash brown casserole because that’s Alice’s favorite. But Nicki notices the lights.
It’s still early, and it’s overcast outside, but my dining room isn’t as bright as it could be. And it’s nowhere near as bright in here as it was last night when they all showed up.
“Sweet merciful Monday,” Nicki whispers, even though it’s Tuesday. “That is heaven on earth.”
I shrug at the lights above us like it’s no big deal. Like it didn’t take an hour, four YouTube videos, and a mild electrical shock to become a reality. And an emergency trip to the hardware store—twice.
“I kept meaning to install a dimmer switch down here—I’m a big fan. I just didn’t have time until today.”
Look at me, telling super bad Alice-lies before breakfast. The only thing missing is the exclamation points.
“You’re a big fan of dimmer switches?” Nicki gives me a dubious look.
“Yep!”
And there it is. My transformation is complete.
What does she want me to do, admit I don’t love dimmer switches? Confess that I googled her eye condition last night and made an emergency list of things I should change around the house to make her more comfortable?
Never.
Alice shared a lot of things last night about her family, but what stuck out most is how much Nicki hates it when people make a fuss over her. She’s the toughest of the Kilpatrick daughters—the one with the hardest shell—and she’s spent the past six months pretending nothing is wrong with her eyes. Forget asking for help. Even when people outright offer, even when it’s clear she desperately needs the help, she isn’t interested.
But now she’s here, and she likes my dimmer switch. As long as I don’t turn it into a big deal, I’m golden.
Nicki can tell I went overboard. She isn’t buying my “I’m just a guy who loves dimmer switches” act for a second, but she doesn’t seem mad about it. Alice notices too. Her eyes catch mine, and a faint knowing smile tugs her lips. It’s a very good look.
“Just the one dimmer switch?” Nicki asks as Tyler stuffs a mountain of empty packaging in the trash and recycling bin.
“I might’ve installed one in the guest room too,” I admit. “And the bathroom. And the hallway—all the rooms, actually. You can never have too many dimmer switches.”
Double busted.
When did I become such a terrible liar? My dignity crumbles before my eyes, but then Alice gives me a new smile, a better smile, and I can feel the sweetness of that look on every inch of my skin. That smile makes everything worth it.
Now if I could only convince Nicki to cut me some slack…
No such luck. She nods to the lights above us, cutting zero slack. “You changed the bulbs too. You switched out your white LEDs for the yellow ones.”
She wasn’t supposed to notice that. The dimmer switch was supposed to make that other change invisible. But here I am, busted once again.
I don’t mention that I read the yellow ones are easier on her eyes; I don’t mention her at all. I just lie like my life depends on it. Because the best way to help a girl like Nicki Kilpatrick is to pretend you aren’t helping her at all.
“The white ones came with the house, but the yellow ones feel more vintage. They go better with the architecture.”
Again, Nicki knows I’m lying. Her mouth starts to open, an argument forms in her eyes, but then she lets it go. “It’s nice,” she says. “Thanks.”
“Well, I didn’t do it for you”—I shrug, while Alice tries not to laugh—“but you’re welcome.”
There are other things Nicki doesn’t pick up on, like how we cleaned up all the DIY projects and home repair stuff everywhere, so there wouldn’t be anything she could trip over. Or how we rotated the area rug in the living room, the one with that lone sinister corner that likes to flip up, to make sure she didn’t trip over that, either. But Alice notices, and she bumps my knee under the table as we all sit down for breakfast, gracing me with another sweet smile.
Once everyone’s settled and I’m surrounded by Kilpatricks, the first thing that strikes me is how different the three sisters are. Nicki has brown hair like their mother, Emma’s blonde like their father, and Alice is the only redhead. Their personalities are a mixed bag too, and Carrots is definitely the sweet one. The brightest ray of sunshine in the entire Kilpatrick family.
The next thing that strikes me is how upset one of those sisters still is after their family meeting. That although they’ve forgiven each other and decided to stay until Alice leaves tomorrow morning—mostly so Mr. Kilpatrick can keep torturing Jason—one of Alice’s sisters isn’t happy about being here. And she definitely isn’t happy about me.
“So”—Emma clears her throat, giving me a tight smile—“we heard you’re trying to get a new job. Is it at a tattoo parlor or a skate shop or…”
She hates me, that much is obvious, but I don’t mind. In some sad, strange way, I’m used to it. Maybe I don’t know how to help Nicki the right way or how to charm Alice’s parents, but I know how to handle this.
“It’s a teaching job,” I say simply, refusing to get upset. “I have my interview today.”
I don’t mention it’s at an elementary school. Mostly because I don’t want Emma to tell me how bad she thinks I’d be at a job like that. Not today when I’m nervous about my interview and already thinking that myself.
But then Lydia rats me out. “His interview’s at Ponderosa Elementary. He wants to teach kindergarten like his mom.”
I brace for mockery. Instead, the other women at the table “aww” in perfect unison, even Emma. Emitting loud coos of delight as if that’s the sweetest thing they’ve ever heard.
Two seconds later, my phone buzzes with a text.
Lydia: You’re welcome.
Alice’s phone is still drying out in a bag of rice. She’s sitting beside me at the table, right between me and Tyler’s sister, but I watch with amusement as she borrows Lydia’s phone. In another two seconds, mine buzzes again.
Not Lydia: Why didn’t you tell me it was a kindergarten job?
Not Lydia: You’re such a natural with kids. You’re going to be amazing!
She bumps my knee under the table again, and I’m basically on Cloud Nine. Only one thing could make it better. Well, besides kissing her again.
We’re finishing up when it happens, that next best thing. When Alice’s mom glances up and says what every bad boy turned good thinks he’s never going to hear.
“We’re doing some sightseeing around town today. Would you like to join us?”
Yes. Ma’am.
ALICE
It’s easy to forget my sister’s eyesight has changed.
Nicki still sees shadow and light, colors and shapes—and her peripheral vision hasn’t changed at all. Besides her light sensitivity and wearing sunglasses a lot, she still walks around on a day-to-day basis the way she used to. But it’s the center of her vision that’s different, blurry and full of blind spots. It’s all the finer details she can’t see.
Reading regular-print books is a no go, and she had to give up driving. But as we walk around with her in Ponderosa Falls, I forget to keep her new disability in mind. I forget to be careful.
We’re halfway across an intersection when I realize she’s lagged behind. She walks a little slower these days—that’s another difference at times like these—and I can see the anxiety on her face when she realizes we’re already crossing the street. That even though she can see the sidewalk under her feet and the scenery around us, she has no idea how far away oncoming traffic is or how fast it’s moving. No clue when it’s actually safe to cross.
Except Charlie didn’t forget about her at all.
He’s hovering on the corner, waiting for Nicki as he pretends to check his phone. Charlie asks her something casual as they cross the street together, and I watch her anxiety fade. She realizes he was looking out for her, and I can see the exact moment she decides not to fight it. When she just lets herself be grateful and moves on.
You think it would be strange watching Charlie pay so much attention to my sister, especially when things between us are still a little awkward after that kitchen kiss, but it isn’t. Somehow, he strikes the perfect balance. No matter how long we all walk around together, I always feel like I’m Charlie’s favorite. Shoulder bumps, little jokes, quiet glances—he makes me feel special a million different ways.
Then he works his real magic.
My mother asks Charlie to take us to “the best tourist spot in town,” and he doesn’t go for the obvious choice: Four Pines Peak. He takes us to the Old Ponderosa Museum instead, my favorite spot. As if he knows I could see it a thousand times without ever getting bored–and he’s right. This place is heaven.
After we head around back to enter the Ruby Lakes Hotel, we pause at the first exhibit plaque, the one about the widow who founded this place. Nicki pauses there with the rest of us, waiting patiently until we’re ready to move on. Before my brain can kick in, before I can even register that she probably can’t read stuff like that anymore, Charlie glances over.
“I can read it out loud, if you want.”
He’s offering direct help, obvious help. To Nicki. Every single Kilpatrick winces, but Nicki only smiles.
“Sure, if you want. Thanks.”
Sure?
Thanks?
It’s magic, pure impossible magic. As we move to the next plaque, my mother leans toward me, her voice the barest whisper.
“A kindergarten teacher and a magician? Where did you find such a unicorn?”