“You didn’t have to drive all this way, Diane.”
“Of course I did. She was my sister. These are her things too.”
Adam glanced at me from the hallway, his jaw tight. He never warmed to her, not even as a child.
“Aunt Diane,” he said flatly. “Didn’t expect you.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve been part of this family for twenty years. Where else would I be?”
I stepped aside and let her in, because I always did. Because saying no to Diane was a battle I lost decades ago.
“I’ve been part of this family for 20 years.”
“I’ll start in the basement,” Adam announced, grabbing a flashlight. “Less ghosts down there.”
“Adam,” I warned softly.
“Sorry, Dad. I just meant… you know what I meant.”
Ethan touched my shoulder as Adam disappeared down the basement stairs.
“He’s not wrong, you know. This place has been holding its breath for twenty years.”
“So have I,” I whispered.
“This place has been holding its breath for 20 years.”
Diane was already in the living room, lifting framed photographs off the mantle, her fingers lingering on the one of Laura and the girls.
“You kept everything exactly the same,” she murmured. “Even her reading chair.”
“I couldn’t move it. Couldn’t move anything.”
“That’s not healthy, you know. Holding on like this.”
“You’ve been telling me that for two decades, Diane.”
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