The Notice
Delaney
Thank God for the key.
Tessa had given it to me ages ago, when she'd first moved in. It was actually kind of flattering, especially because I knew for a fact that Tessa had flat-out refused to give any key to Mom.
Of course, Tessa had always been the smart one. But me? Once again, I'd had to learn things the hard way.
No sharing with Mom.
No keys.
No embarrassing stories.
And certainly no bank accounts.
I shoved a hand through my hair and tried to tamp down the panic I'd been feeling ever since that fiasco at the hotel.
There was nothing I could do about it now. The bank – a small local branch I'd been using for years – was closed until Monday morning. And yes, this included their telephone help line.
Considering it was barely Saturday evening, I would be seriously strapped for nearly two days – maybe longer.
Why, oh why, hadn't I changed accounts?
If I knew my sister, she'd changed her childhood account ages ago, probably long before she'd moved into this apartment.
I stilled for a moment, suddenly aware of how quiet her place was. Was I violating her trust by barging in when she wasn't home?
And stealing her cleaning supplies?
No. Not stealing. Borrowing.
This was only my second time inside Tessa's apartment. The first had been barely ten minutes ago, when I'd dashed in only long enough to grab the supplies and rush out to fix my mess – and in front of an audience, too.
An annoyingly attractive audience.
Whose name I still didn't know.
And why?
Because I'd felt too awkward to ask while in the middle of janitor duty.
With that duty officially done, I could finally decompress. In the privacy of Tessa's apartment, I took a long look around, feeling a new wave of guilt for keeping my distance for so long. During the past couple of weeks, I'd called Tessa maybe a dozen times, leaving only two messages.
She hadn't called me back.
But could I really blame her?
After all, she'd called me repeatedly during the past year, and I hadn't returned a single call. Sure, I'd had a good reason, but now, as I stood in Tessa's quiet space, the reason felt slightly ridiculous.
But I'd done it for her.
Hadn't I?
Somewhere between the lobby and the elevator, it occurred to me that I'd just made dinner plans with a complete stranger – which seemed half-insane, considering I was here to see my sister.
This, of course, assumed she wanted to see me at all.
Maybe that's why I'd agreed to dinner – to have somewhere else to go if she rejected the olive branch – or more accurately, the hydrangea.
Or maybe I just wanted another excuse to look at the guy in the suit, preferably while not clobbering him with a potted plant.
There it sat on the gleaming kitchen counter, looking slightly out of place, just like my busted suitcase, which sat off to the side with one corner sagging.
The apartment wasn't huge, but everything had its place, from the colorful throw pillows to the neatly framed artwork on the walls.
My gaze landed on a framed photo of me and Tessa from the summer I'd graduated high school. We were both sunburned, with our arms slung around each other, laughing at something outside the frame.
We looked happy.
But the truth was a lot more complicated.
And now we weren't talking at all.
I felt tears prick at my eyes. Somehow, I had to fix this.
Deliberately, I pulled my gaze from the photo and took in the rest of her place. All of it was pure Tessa – with clean lines, thoughtful details, and just enough polish to remind me she'd always had her life a little more together than I had.
The only thing remotely messy was a haphazard stack of books on the small side table near the balcony door. I smiled at the sight. Tessa loved to read, making it one of the few things we actually had in common.
Books or no books, I couldn't see a single speck of dust.
With a twinge of dread, I looked down at my feet, wondering if I'd brought some of my own mess with me.
On the entryway rug, there was no dirt – thank goodness – but there was something that made my breath catch in my throat.
It was a white sheet of paper – a legal-looking document with very small print, except for the two words at the top, practically screaming in bright red ink.
Eviction Notice.
My stomach dropped.
What the heck?