Ten

TEN

Everett

A couple of days later

" A re you having a boy or a girl?" The interior designer asked as Carmen and I walked into the main room upstairs.

"We're not pregnant yet." Carmen pressed a hand against my chest. "This is just where we want the nursery to be. Right, Everett?"

"Right."

"Ah, I see." The designer smiled and moved to the end of the room, opening the windows. "Well, I can totally work with this amazing space, and I think we should go with neutrals for now. After the wedding and once you're expecting, we can throw in whatever pop of color you seem fit. Sound good?"

"Sounds awesome!"

"Do you two want to keep the closet's sliding barn doors?"

"Hell no." Carmen let go of me. "Speaking of other things we need to change, we were wondering if you could get us a custom chair after we knock out that wall. Let me show you some examples…"

I tuned out their conversation and picked up the sage green rattle Carmen had placed on the windowsill this morning.

It was one of the few things I'd saved from my childhood, a toy I'd been pictured with alongside my dad in the sparse frames we shared.

Dahlia was the one who insisted that I save it, that I pass it along to our child we often dreamed about, but?—

Fuck. I stopped that thought. We may not need to stay in Eads River.

"Mr. Anderson?" A courier stepped in front of me with balloons and flower vases. "I have a delivery for you and the soon-to-be-Mrs."

"You can bring them over here so I can snap pictures!" Carmen yelled from the other side of the room.

"I'll just take the notes," I said.

He obliged, plucking them off and handing them to me.

They were all unsigned, sporting sweet yet generic phrases. "Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, "Just heard the news!" "May you last forever!"

I remembered how Dahlia's mother often sent these out to residents, so I knew these were from her. And unlike Dahlia, she was behaving like an adult.

"Can you please send Miss Kate my regards, please?" I said to the courier. "Tell her to save a dance for me at my wedding."

"I would, but…" His face paled. "I can't ."

"Why not?"

"Because Mrs. Foster died weeks ago," he said. "She didn't send these. The notes were from your old firm in New York, but they didn't personalize them."

"Dahlia's mom passed away?" I didn't hear shit else he said. "From what?"

"The same thing she's struggled with for years," he said. "You were here then."

"She beat it four times."

"She couldn't surpass five." His voice cracked. "Should I send your condolences to her family?"

"No, I…." I couldn't believe his words, couldn't understand why Dahlia didn't mention this to me. "Tell me who's running the garden now. Who did she leave it to?"

"Come on, Everett." He looked straight through me. "Who do you think?"