Page 70 of The Marriage Narrative
The Zaffre library stood apart from the main house much like the bungalow. Exit through the French doors on the northwest side and follow the short, winding stone path straight to the small cottage. Sadie had designed the exterior, wanting it to match the whimsy of the pocket forest. She’d plucked both ideas straight out of a book of fairy tales.
Save for a half bath hidden behind a sliding barn door, the interior was one giant open space lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. Each wall had its own rolling ladder, vintage-style light bulbs hung from the ceiling on thick ropes, and the furniture had been arranged to guide guests toward the center of the room.
Sometimes, during particularly rough months and when Jordan knew no one was home, he flew to the estate for the weekend. He spent most of his time in the cottage looking at his mom’s newest creations.
They used a shared family cloud drive to upload any pictures that they wanted printed for the albums and scrapbooks. She’d personally made everything in the archive—hundreds of books at this point, working on them no matter where she was in the world before shipping them to the house.
The latest packages had been neatly piled on top of a polished oak desk in the back. “Open them up and stack everything by date over there.” His dad pointed to the utility rack in the opposite corner.
“Why are there so many?” Jordan asked, frowning.
There had to be somewhere close to six months’ worth. His dad usually spent hours in there, reminiscing and tinkering with the reference catalog that numbered and sorted the books.
“Been busy.” He selected a gray-and-pink photo album off the twins’ shelf and sat in the recliner next to the front window. “Hopefully won’t be for much longer.”
Both his parents threw in cryptic little remarks like that from time to time. His dad wanted to retire. His mom wanted to work until she dropped dead. And according to theRetirementstoryline, no longer wanting the same things was causing “irreparable” cracks in their marriage.
His parents weren’t getting divorced. But the truth never stopped the writers from turning disagreements into one of the season’s main will they / won’t they questions.
Wylie whacked Jordan in the back with a flat manila envelope and laughed.
“I’ll never understand how you turned out so damn violent.” He snatched it away. “Sort first. Then open. Where are the tags?”
Wylie handed him the color-coded stickies with one hand and flipped the sharp letter opener like a switchblade with the other. “I’m not violent. You’re just soft.”
“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I’m choosing to go easy on you?” Jordan asked. “Tell you what, why don’t you hit me again and see what happens?”
Wylie eyed him with a defiant grin, but rightfully chose to open the first box instead.
“That’s what I thought.”
Wylie scoffed. “You don’t even know how to fight.”
“Who do you think taught Sadie?” their dad called out as he calmly turned the page. “Those two were running each other ragged before we even planned to have you. He was worse than she is.”
Everyone, including Wylie, was low-key afraid of Sadie and for good reason. A feral mastermind had nothing on a damn supervillain.
Jordan had calmed down over the years with the usual suspects helping him—therapy to get a handle on his emotions, good friendships, hormones leveling out, brain fully developing—and his family had missed most of it. His brother hadn’t had a chance to really get to know him at any age.
“I’m retired now, but I could always rejoin the family business,” he threatened.
“He’s our best-kept secret for a reason,” their dad joked. “Now quit messing around and finish unboxing those.”
While Wylie opened, unpacked, and flattened the boxes, Jordan reviewed the attached handwritten guide card. He tagged the book with the date and right color. They used deep blue when the books were a mixed bag, containing general family memories that took place around the same time.
If the book was primarily centered around one person, they each had their own color. He’d picked forest green for himself and had noticeably fewer books. Jade green Sadie, on the other hand, had the most.
Yes, he picked green because she did. He was six when his parents started the archive. She was his idolandnemesis at that age.
Wylie added three more albums to Jordan’s stack and said, “Send me another list of Zinnia’s books. I read all the other ones.”
“Ask her yourself.”
“No. I can’t just walk up to her and say, ‘Hey, I read all your favorite books. Got any more?’ ”
“Why not? I literally gave you the perfect conversation starter.”
“She’s a sweet girl,” their dad said. He’d moved on to flipping through the twins’ baby album. “Give her a chance to be nice to you.”
