Chapter 4

"Ryan and I broke up."

By the time Lauren said it, Adam had already dragged the second suitcase in from the porch.

She stood in the entryway, her eyes badly reddened, still clutching her car keys.

When a four-year relationship suddenly ends, whatever the reason, that isn't the kind of night to stand in the doorway asking for details.

"You can stay here tonight," I said.

Lauren looked at me, visibly relieved.

"Thank you."

The guest room was still empty.

I helped her find clean sheets while Adam carried her luggage upstairs.

Diane heard the commotion and came out with her walker, then hugged her daughter in the hallway.

I didn't say anything else that night.

The doorbell rang at nine the next morning.

I thought it was the rehabilitation supplies Diane had ordered.

Instead, a deliveryman was standing outside.

"Delivery for Lauren Bennett?"

There was a small moving truck parked behind him.

Before I could answer, Lauren came downstairs.

"That's mine."

Two large cardboard boxes, one storage bin, three garment bags, and a coffee machine.

I stood by the door and watched as everything was carried inside, one piece after another.

"What is all this?"

Lauren casually pulled her hair back.

"Ryan told me to get all my stuff out. I don't want to keep going back there and seeing him."

"So how long are you planning to stay?"

She paused.

"I don't know. For a while, I guess."

Lauren looked at Adam.

I looked at him too.

Adam was signing for the last box.

"She just went through a breakup," he said. "Let her get back on her feet first, then we'll figure it out."

"You already told her she could stay?"

"She called me before she came over last night."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Adam handed the pen back to the mover.

"Because she's my sister."

"That's not an answer."

"Claire, she just got out of a four-year relationship. I'm not going to make her stay in a hotel."

"I never said she had to stay in a hotel."

"Then what's the difference?"

"The difference is that this is our home."

Lauren stood beside us, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"If I'm making you uncomfortable, I can leave."

She said it, but she didn't move.

Adam frowned immediately.

"No one is asking you to leave."

Then he turned to me.

"I agreed to let her stay last night," I said. "What I'm asking now is how long she plans to stay, and why you think you can make that decision without telling me."

"I don't know how long she'll stay."

"But you already said yes."

Adam lowered his voice.

"She's my sister."

This time, I didn't let it go.

"And what am I?"

He froze.

Lauren looked down and picked up one of the garment bags.

"I'm going to put my things away."

After she went upstairs, Adam looked at me.

"Do you really have to ask all of this right now?"

"When would be a better time? After she's completely moved in?"

"She's been here one day."

I almost laughed.

The decision had already been made. There was no point in arguing anymore.

That afternoon, while I was revising a client proposal in the basement, I kept hearing footsteps upstairs.

I put on my headphones and closed the door.

When I went upstairs for coffee that evening, I found a stack of home furnishing catalogs on the dining table.

Lauren was sitting beside Diane, and the two of them were looking at curtains.

"Do you think this color is too dark?" Diane asked.

"No." Lauren turned the page. "That room gets plenty of light. A darker color would actually look better."

I stopped at the kitchen doorway.

Diane saw me and smiled.

"Claire, what do you think?"

"About what?"

Lauren turned the catalog toward me.

"Curtains. The ones in Mom's room are too thin. It gets really bright in the morning."

I glanced at the page.

"I chose those curtains very carefully."

Diane's smile faded slightly.

"I know, honey. I just want to be a little more comfortable while I'm staying there."

"She didn't mean anything by it," Lauren said.

"Neither did I."

I poured myself a cup of coffee and started toward the basement.

Behind me, Lauren spoke again.

"Actually, we could change the wall color too. That gray makes it look too much like an office."

Diane laughed.

"Because it is an office."

"It wouldn't be hard to paint it back later."

My hand tightened slightly around the mug.

Lauren kept flipping through the catalog.

"Besides, hasn't Claire gotten used to working in the basement by now?"

I stood at the top of the basement stairs and glanced toward the second floor.

Diane was living in what used to be my studio.

Lauren was living in the only guest room in our house.

And every day, I worked in the basement beside the washing machine.

Now they were already discussing what color the walls of my studio should be.