Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Maude had fallen asleep on the couch. She woke to a kink in her neck and the unmistakable realization that she was too old not to sleep on a properly supportive mattress. Aging was so much fun.
Sunlight slanted through the blinds with enough ferocity that she knew it wasn’t super early. For a disorienting second, she couldn’t remember why she’d hadn’t gone to bed like a reasonable person.
Then it came back to her.
Robbie. She’d been waiting up for him, but he’d never shown.
She pushed herself upright, wincing as her spine protested. The house was quieter than it should have been. There were no footsteps clomping around in the loft. No rustling in the kitchen. No too-loud clearing of a throat that would announce her brother’s presence before his words ever could.
Her first thought was, Of course he didn’t arrive when he said he would. Her second was, Please let him be okay.
Maude reached for her phone on the coffee table. Before she could unlock the screen, there was a knock at the door.
It wasn’t loud. It almost sounded apologetic.
Her heart leapt and sank all at once. Maude crossed the tiny living room and opened the door.
Robbie stood there, rumpled and unshaven, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, eyes tired in that way that spoke of a night spent thinking too much. His old Toyota pickup was in her driveway, the windows of the cab on the back blocked with boxes and tools.
He looked older than he had the last time she’d seen him. Or maybe she was just seeing him more clearly now.
“Hey, Maude,” he said softly.
Relief hit first, followed immediately by irritation she didn’t bother to hide. “What the heck, Robbie? You were supposed to be here last night,” she said. “I waited up.”
“I know.” He shifted his weight, glancing down at the porch. “I meant to. I really did.”
“What happened?”
He hesitated, then blew out a breath. “Everything sort of…piled up. I had some car trouble, but I got that taken care of. Then I stopped for coffee and just sat there in my car longer than I planned. I think I panicked.”
Maude folded her arms, mostly so she didn’t punch her brother in the arm. “You didn’t think to text?”
“I did think about it,” he said quickly. “A dozen times. I just couldn’t bring myself to explain why I was spiraling like a teenager at a gas station off the highway.”
Her irritation was replaced by something more akin to concern. Didn’t mean she wasn’t still upset that he’d made her worry. “You could have said something.”
“I know.” He met her eyes then, earnest and a little broken. “I didn’t want to show up a mess.”
She sighed, her mood relaxing as the last of her irritation disappeared. “Robbie, this is me. Your sister.”
A faint smile flickered across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “That’s kind of why it’s harder.”
Maude stepped aside and opened the door wider. “Come in. You look like you need coffee.” She wrinkled her nose. “And a shower.”
He blinked, surprised. “You’re…not mad?”
“I was,” she admitted. “Now I’m just tired and relieved you’re here.” She paused. “We’re still going to talk. Just not before caffeine.”
Robbie nodded, gratitude plain on his face as he crossed the threshold. “Deal. Hey, this is nice.”
“Thanks.” As she closed the door behind him, Maude felt the energy in the house change. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Her quiet little sanctuary was now filled with a new weight.
But at least Robbie was here.
Maude started coffee before either of them said much else. The familiar sounds of scooping of grounds, the gurgling of water, the small pffft as the machine started, gave her a strange comfort.
Robbie hovered near the counter like he didn’t know what to do with himself but didn’t want to get in her way.
They took their mugs out to the porch, the morning warm but not unbearable. Robbie sank into one of the chairs with a grateful sigh, cradling the cup between both hands. Maude sat across from him, watching his foot bounce against the boards of the porch.
She took a sip. When he didn’t say anything, she took over. “So,” she said gently, “what’s really going on?”
Robbie shrugged, staring out at the path that wound through the Colony. “Nothing big. Just…needed a change of scenery.”
Maude knew that wasn’t true, but she waited. She’d learned with Robbie that silence worked better than pressure.
He kept talking anyway. “This place is nice. You picked well. I like the palms. You can even see the Gulf from here. And the whole tiny house setup seems very you.” He smiled faintly. “Fits your whole minimalist, have-your-life-together thing.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Robert.” She hoped using his full name would get him to focus.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. Work hasn’t been great.”
“In what way?”
He waved a hand. “Fewer hours. Clients dragging their feet. You know how it is.”
“No, actually,” she said evenly. “I don’t. Construction is a foreign language to me.”
Robbie huffed out a laugh, then glanced at his coffee like it might offer a lifeline. “I didn’t expect you to interrogate me before breakfast.”
“I didn’t expect my brother to drive all night, not show up, and then pretend this is a vacation,” Maude said. If that sounded a little harsh, so be it. He was the one who needed help. Not her. “You came to me for a reason.”
He leaned back, exhaling slowly. “You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Make me talk.”
Maude folded her hands around her mug. “That’s my job as your sister.”
He took another sip of coffee, then cleared his throat. “I’m just a little burned out. Thought being near the water might help.”
She nodded. “Okay. And?”
“And…I don’t know how long I’m staying,” he added quickly. “Just until I get my head screwed back on straight.”
Maude’s gaze softened. “Robbie.”
He kept going, faster now, words tumbling over each other. “We don’t have to talk about it this morning. Or ever, really. I just needed a place to land. You’re good at…being that place.”
Yeah, because Mom and Dad would have asked even more questions. She stood and moved to the chair beside him, sitting close enough that their knees nearly touched. “You’re running,” she said quietly. “And I don’t think it’s from work.”
His jaw tightened. He drank more coffee.
She waited again.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then his shoulders slumped, like something inside him had finally given up. “I lost a contract,” he said, voice low. “A big one. One I told Mom and Dad was basically a sure thing. One that would have carried me for a while.”
Maude didn’t interrupt.
“After that,” he continued. “Everything else started to go sideways. Rent. Credit cards. I’ve been keeping things together with duct tape and optimism.” He let out a shaky laugh. “Turns out optimism doesn’t clear overdrafts.”
“Oh, Robbie,” Maude murmured.
“I didn’t want to tell them,” he said, eyes focused beyond the palm trees beyond the porch. “You know them. Mom would panic. Dad would start trying to fix things. And I didn’t want to be the screw-up again.”
“They want to help,” she said. “It would be a lot worse to have parents who didn’t.”
“True.” He shook his head. “But you don’t know what it’s like to watch your sister glide through life like she’s got some internal compass. For all your weirdness with the computer stuff and video games, you always seemed to know exactly what you were going to do next.”
Maude wanted to hug him. “I promise you, it didn’t always feel that way,” she said. “Life is hard for everyone in different ways.”
“Maybe.” His breath hitched. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
That was the truth. She could hear it in the way his voice cracked, see it in the way his hands tightened around his cup like he was trying to hold himself together.
Maude couldn’t stand it anymore. She reached for him, pulling him into a hug he didn’t resist. He leaned into her, forehead resting briefly against her shoulder, the smell of coffee and salt air wrapped around them.
“You don’t have to figure anything out today,” she said softly. “You’re here now. You can chill and take a breath. And you can talk to me about any of this.”
“Thanks.” He nodded into her shoulder, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You came to the right place,” Maude said. An idea came to her. She hesitated, then said, “Can I ask you something?”
Robbie nodded. “Sure.”
“If money wasn’t the issue,” she said. “And you didn’t have to explain it to Mom and Dad or anyone else, what would you really want to do?”
He didn’t answer right away and for a moment she thought he might brush the question off and answer with a joke. His way of deflecting.
Instead, his shoulders notched back. “I would make things.”
Maude tilted her head. “You already do.”
“Not like that. Not remodeling and additions,” he said.
He rubbed his chin, like he was seeing a vision in his head.
“Furniture. Real pieces. Tables, cabinets, benches. Stuff that lasts a lifetime. I’ve always made stuff when I could, but man, if it could be all I did…
That would be something. To really focus on it.
There are some pieces I’ve been thinking about. I know they’d be amazing.”
Her heart softened. “Since when have you wanted to make furniture?”
“Since always,” he admitted. “I used to help Grandpa in his garage, remember? He had that old workbench with the burned spot from the soldering iron. I swear I learned more in there than I ever did in school.”
Maude nodded. She did remember. The cedar smell. Robbie coming in with sawdust in his hair and a grin that rarely showed up anywhere else.
“I like the quiet of it,” Robbie said, staring into his coffee. “Measuring, cutting, picking out the right wood and the right finish. Ending up with something that will last longer than me.” He gave a small shrug. “Construction pays the bills. Usually. Furniture just…makes sense to me.”
Maude nodded. “So don’t talk about it like it’s some fantasy you’re not allowed to have.”
He snorted. “Easy for you to say.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “You’re not saying you want to quit your job tomorrow and open a showroom. You’re saying you want to start.”
He glanced at her. “With what money?”
She shrugged. “I could front you enough for some pieces. Enough to show what you can do. I could set up a website for you. You could do one of the art festivals they’re always having around here. See what happens.”
“You’d do that?”
“Definitely. I mean, if you think it’s worth doing. Have you sold anything yet?”
Robbie rubbed his jaw. “I’ve sold a few pieces. Nothing big.”
“Well, there you go then,” she said. “That’s proof.”
He was quiet for a beat. “I can’t afford to screw this up.”
“I know,” Maude said gently. “But you also can’t afford to stay stuck forever.”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I just don’t see how people make a shift like this without everything blowing up.”
“They don’t flip a switch,” she said. “They ease into it. You already know how to build things. You already have the tools. The question isn’t whether you can do it. It’s whether you believe in yourself enough to try.”
He looked at her, really looked at her, like he was seeing the idea from a new angle. “You really think this isn’t reckless?”
“Maybe it is,” she said. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth a shot.”
Robbie let out a breath, slow and long. “Okay. Maybe I’ll build something while I’m here.”
Maude smiled. “That’s all I’m saying. You can work under the carport.”
He smiled back. “You’re a good sister.”
She turned her face into the sun. “I know.”