“Only because your husband canceled my hotel reservation. But that’s perfect. Thank you.”
“He did it out of love.” She smiles. “Fair warning, I’ll be over there cooking and baking tomorrow. Just seemed right to do it there.”
“I get that.” I smile sadly back at her. “I think the cooking and baking in that house with family is the most prominent in all my memories.”
“Mine too,” my brother says. “It’s hard to believe we won’t have that anymore.”
“We can still keep the memory alive for the kids,” Laura says.
“Gran would have loved you being back at the house,” Mason adds with a lopsided grin. “She kept the pantry stocked with those pinwheel cookies—you know, the chocolate marshmallow ones? She always said they were your favorites.”
I smile back at him and nod.
“They were. I don’t think I’ve had one of those in five years.”
“I hope you keep the house, Uncle G,” Mason says. “I couldn’t imagine anyone else there.”
“Keep the house?” I ask. “What are you talking about?”
“I believe she left that up to the two of us, but we’ll go to Mike a few days after the funeral to see what the will says. Why? Are you thinking about staying?” Ethan replies.
“No,” I chuckle. “That’s not why I’m asking. My life is far away from this place.”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be. I could really use your help since my arm is busted.”
“You’ve been running things just fine without me.”
“We’re short on guys, and I usually pitch in, but I can’t exactly do that now,” he says as he gestures toward his arm.
“What? Why are we short on guys?”
“No one wants to work. We can’t get people to show up on time or even put in a full day of work most days. The ones who do can’t pass a drug test so they’re an insurance liability.”
“How long has this been happening? And why are you just now telling me?”
“It’s not important right now,” Laura interjects, shooting her husband a look before her eyes flit to the kids. “We’re not talking about the business today. Your brother just walked in the door, Ethan.”
“You’re right, Laura,” he sighs as he pulls his wife into a side hug.
They share a silent look, and I feel like there’s more to this discussion than they’ve been letting on lately.
“Garrett, are you feeling okay?” Laura asks. “You look pale and like you’re squinting.”
“Just a headache. I took some meds.”
“You still get those?” she asks softly.
“Sometimes.” I shrug nonchalantly.
“There’s an ice pack in the fridge. When you get back to your mom’s, she kept frozen eye masks, too, in case you ever came home.”
I nod and walk to get a bottle of water out of the fridge. Movement will get me out of the awkward conversations, and that’s what I need right now.
“Let me fix you a plate of food,” Laura offers. “You probably haven’t had a good home-cooked meal in a while.”
She’s always been the motherly type, even before she and my brother had kids. She’s always taken care of and supported me in whatever way she could, even when we were in high school. I used to call her my big sister when she and Ethan were just dating.
“Thanks, sis,” I tell her with a smile.