Chapter 43

43

Dylan was working the front desk of the inn when Dixie came wandering in after her shift at the hospital. "Hey, big sister number two. You look really tired."

"So do you. Aren't you supposed to be resting after what happened? Didn't Grandma insist you were supposed to take it easy?"

Dylan shrugged. She worked. That meant she got paid. She was saving up all of her pennies and nickels. She had to pay for her college classes—she was going to do it all by herself, no matter what her father or uncle kept saying—and she wanted to buy her own house someday.

Someday really, really soon. The sooner the better.

A little house would be just fine. Maybe two bedrooms. One for her, and one to be a guest room for her sisters if they wanted to spend the night sometimes. Someplace just not the Talley Inn.

She'd come to that decision in the night. When she should have been sleeping, but had woken from nightmares about those men instead.

She was going to find herself someplace other than her father's precious Talley Inn to live. Before she went insane. Her sisters could visit, spend the night sometimes.

If they would. Devaney, Dahlia, and Dorie were settling in just fine with Darcey, Dixie, and Daisy. Right here at Utopia Inn, aka, the Talley Inn.

Well, Dylan wasn't so sure it was the perfect place. She liked it okay—the work was easy, even kind of fun. She did get to do it with her sisters—all seven of them—but working the inn wasn't what she had imagined doing with the rest of her life.

Then again, did she even know what she wanted to do with the rest of her life yet? Well, not really. Not really.

She wasn't even certain who she was right now—how could she know what she wanted from her life, yet? "I did. I covered for Abby when she called off. She had a flat tire, or something."

"Abby doesn't even have a car. Her brother brings her or she walks," Dixie told her, bluntly. Dixie handled a lot of the human resource work at the inn and diner. She knew Abby best. They'd been in school together—and Dixie didn't like Abby one bit. Well, neither did Dylan. "She was probably running around with that boyfriend of hers."

"I did not know that." She just knew that someone had needed to cover. What else was she supposed to do? Hang out in the family wing with the fam—that was one possibility, but Dylan wasn't very good at just "hanging out." She was better at doing something. And at least she earned some extra money at the inn when she went over her regular forty. Working kept her busy, too. So she couldn't just sit and think. Remember.

She wanted to do some gardening or something, start some seeds, but she was kind of afraid to. There really wasn't much room to do it in her little room in the inn's attic. She only had one tiny window—her uncle had insisted she keep it clear of clutter and had put her a chain fire ladder up there where she could get out if needed. And had made absolutely certain she could get outside to the roof ten feet below her window in case of an emergency.

He told her she had to leave that old trunk up there right below her window so she could climb up on it and right out of the attic, no matter what.

Then she'd be able to get to a vintage fire escape that he made certain was in exact perfect working order. He was a little controlling over stuff like that. Not that she minded—there had been one fire she was never going to forget when she was younger.

Her uncle fussed over people, she had noticed. It was cute.

He was very different from her father in so many ways. In other ways, he was just as much a stubborn old butthead. Just like her father. Maybe she should ask Marin if she could have a little corner of the yard somewhere? Just enough room to put in some tomatoes, or something? Dylan had spent hours in her garden before. It was where she did her best thinking. And the veggies had come in real handy when she had had a family of six to cook for, after all.

"You in there?" Dixie asked. Of all of her new big sisters, Dixie—and Daisy—were the ones Dylan had clicked with the most.

"Just thinking, really. Worrying about Meyra a little. That girl does not do ‘change' very well." Meyra was a lot like Dahlia. It was hard to miss. Dahlia was just a little less functional in social situations. But then again—Dahlia hadn't grown up in the middle of the Talley Inn, being forced into social situations every single day. Meyra had had trial by fire. That was for sure. Dahlia was doing a little better, now that she had a clear routine at the inn that she could stick to. Dahlia, more than the rest of them, needed stability.

It was no wonder Dahlia was struggling, too. Her sister was trying really hard—but dealing with people stressed Dahlia. A lot. She'd wanted to be a librarian—or that was what their father had convinced Dahlia she should be. A librarian or a file clerk. Something nice and steady and quiet and stable.

Dahlia really wanted to study archeology, though. Her dad had nixxed that really fast. The idea of his little girl going on digs had terrified him. Dahlia had tried to tell him that digs weren't all archeology was about, but Dylan had her own suspicions—she thought her father was just afraid that if Dahlia studied archeology, she'd have to go away to find a job eventually.

To move out from underneath Arthur Talley's thumb.

And they just couldn't have that, now, could they?

"I am just worried about Dahlia. Story of my life. Been taking care of her for a hundred years, now, you know."

"She'll find her path here. Meyra did. It wasn't easy, but she did. Why wasn't Dahlia ever diagnosed? It's obvious to me."

"Me, too." Especially now that they had met Meyra and could see the similarities. Uncle Gerald was on the autism spectrum, too. "I have my theories. I think they were afraid it would be a way for the bad guys to track us. I suspect most of the weird in our world evolved from that very possibility."

"Probably. But it's never too late. Do you think she'll want to know?"

"You mean, she could decide for herself?" Dylan really tried to cut the sarcasm. But well…Dixie could be just as sarcastic. They had that in common. Dylan suspected sarcasm was on the Talley DNA for most of them. "Without daddy's approval?"

"I think that would be just fine," Dixie gave her a smile. A wicked one. It was supposedly their Aunt Jessica's smile—but Dylan had only seen Jessica from photos. "I'll talk to her about it. Later. I am exhausted tonight. It was a long one."

Dixie worked the ER three nights a week. She was just as exhausted as Dylan was. "Want to talk? I can listen. I've been told I am very good at listening to sisters. Plenty of practice."

"I can't say much. We just had a young father come in—baby is just a little past a month old, and her mother died. I suspect drug overdose, Dyl. And he's trying so hard. Baby had what we think were allergies. He was panicking. I helped calm him down while Shane handled the baby. It's always the kids that get me."

"I can totally see that. You are really good with kids, you know. I have seen it with the Devil Lowells next door." The hot, hot, hot, hot pediatrician Dr. Shane Lowell lived across the road from the inn with his two small children. They were quite diabolical little monsters. Dylan found them adorable. They adored Dixie completely.

Dixie would make a great mom someday. Dylan was sure of it.

"They are the best of the world, Dylan. They are hope. I've always remembered that."

"You are a wise, wise woman, Dixon Talley. A wise, wise woman." And she had shadows in her big green eyes. Dylan would do what she had to do. "So, sister, tell me: How long do you think it will be before Uncle Gerald catches on to the fact that Brandt Barratt is planning something really naughty for our sweet little cousin Meyra?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll catch on eventually." Dixie grinned again, but she still looked so tired. "Did you hear? Uncle Gerald is already in Finley Creek. I hope Meyra is ready. Rescue is on the way."

Dylan groaned. "I'm sure that is the last thing Meyra wants."

Dylan thought getting away from the Talley Inn was exactly what Meyra needed. It was obvious that that seriously hot dude was so in love with Meyra. But being here in her comfort zone made Meyra kind of miss that.

Until recently, apparently. Very recently.

All it had taken had been one little kiss to change Meyra's world. Dylan fully believed that.

For Meyra.

One little kiss—it wouldn't ever change Dylan's world. She would make sure of it.