Falling Into Forever Read online

  “Daniel!” I called his name as I circled the house, wading through a decrepit rose garden, past a cellar door (locked) and across a weedy patio out back, where I ran into Addison again. Her wide eyes and worried expression told me she hadn’t found my son on her half of the search either.

  “Daniel!” I shouted again, a twinge of desperation edging my voice. “Where the hell could he have gone?” I asked.

  Addison shook her head, and we both turned back to face the house. The kitchen door stood ajar, as if beckoning to us, and without speaking, we went back inside. Had we come out that way? Did we leave it open? I hoped Daniel was inside, though there was plenty in the run-down house to worry about.

  The house was like a different world. The second we crossed the threshold, the atmosphere around me took on a dampened feeling, rich with the whispers of memory and decaying things, dust and layers of time. It felt wrong to disturb it all by yelling inside the house, but I was increasingly worried about my son.

  “Dan!” I called out, moving back to the bottom of the big staircase.

  “Upstairs!” His voice came back, sending my heart galloping with relief, and Addison and I exchanged wide-eyed expressions before heading back up the stairs, sending little clouds of dust swirling at our feet.

  On the second floor, I could hear creaking from the ceiling over the master bedroom, and I realized exactly where he’d gone. Telling Daniel no, or we’ll look later, had never been especially effective. He was an impulsive, live-for-the-moment kind of kid, and he usually found ways to get what he wanted. He was in the attic. Anger threatened, but it was shadowed by the relief I felt to hear Dan’s voice, to know he was okay. We’d need to chat about disobeying directions.

  “Upstairs,” I shrugged, opening the closet door and eyeing the narrow stairs skeptically. “You coming?”

  “Sure,” Addison said, sounding less than sure. I didn’t blame her. The whole house was creepy, but the narrow stairway-in-a-closet was creepy times ten.

  “You go first,” I said, trying to be chivalrous.

  She narrowed her eyes at me, as if maybe sending her up first was some kind of grand Tucker plan of mine, but after a second she seemed to realize I was just trying to be a gentleman.

  Of course a true gentleman wouldn’t ogle her ass as she climbed the narrow risers just ahead of me. But it was impossible not to. She wore jeans that hugged her curves perfectly, and climbing stairs put it all right at eye level. Her ass was round and tight, swaying back and forth as she climbed, and I had to work pretty damned hard not to focus on the very inappropriate thoughts racing through my mind at the sight of it.

  Once she’d reached the top and stepped out into the attic, I heard Daniel’s voice. “Look at this.”

  A second later, I moved into the tight narrow space with them. The attic was a long wood-planked room with sloping ceilings and a lot of stuff sitting around in piles here and there. A bookcase stood at one end, stuffed with shoe boxes. A couple of trunks that looked like they might have been brought from another continent via ocean liner sat at the other end. In between there was an ancient sewing machine table and stool next to some kind of mannequin thing, a record player with the big horn part I’d never exactly understood or seen up close in real life, and a collection of garden pots scattered across the floor, some of them broken. There were scatters of dirt and leaves up here too, as if a window had been broken at some point, but they all appeared intact now. I sighed. This was one more part of the house that was going to need work.

  Daniel crouched on the ground, holding something in his lap and rubbing it with one hand, pushing dirt from the surface. “Check it out, Dad.” He held up the object, and I realized it was a garden gnome, but it was pretty far from the cute kind with the little rosy cheeks and brightly colored coat. This one had an expression on its pointed face that could only be described as menacing, despite the smile. The little creature was hunched and its hands were crafted to appear as if they were rubbing one another. The thing looked like it was plotting, and it gave me a very creepy feeling.

  “Uh, let’s just leave that where you found it.”

  “No way, this is Thaddius,” Daniel said, holding the hideous thing up for us to see. “He’s coming home with me.”

  I exchanged a look with Addison, whose nose was adorably wrinkled. A little stirring of warmth rushed through me at her expression, and I had to stomp it down. This—if it was anything—was a business arrangement at best, with someone I didn’t actually like much. No warm fluttery feelings just because she had a nice butt and a cute nose and seemed charmed by my kid.

  “Thaddius?” Addison asked. “How do you know?”

  “Just a feeling,” Daniel said, and I’ll be honest. That creeped me right the fuck out.

  “Let’s get going,” I suggested, casting glances around the rapidly dimming space. “It’s getting dark.”

  I didn’t say anything else as Daniel descended the stairs, the evil gnome in his arms, but I had a feeling I couldn’t quite shake—like the house had an opinion of us, of what we’d done here, what we’d said. Like maybe if we stayed here any longer as the place was subsumed by evening shadow, it might share its opinions with us—and I didn’t want that.

  Addison pressed a button on the wall in the room that held the attic stairs—the light switches were all the old two button kind—but it didn’t do anything.

  “We’ll get the power back on,” I mumbled, heading for the stairway with a bit more focus and speed than that with which we’d initially explored. I didn’t think any of us wanted to be here after dark.

  When we finally stood on the sidewalk once again, outside the gates of the big house, we all paused, looking back.

  “Did you see the garage, Dad? We didn’t get a chance to look inside.” Daniel’s voice was colored with the kind of hope only a kid that age can hang onto.

  “I don’t think Mrs. Easter had a Corvette, kid,” I told him. I felt like I would have remembered Mrs. Easter zipping around town in a sports car.

  Addison laughed. “The lawyer said there is a car in there though.”

  “We’ll save that surprise for another day,” I suggested. I was curious, but it was almost full dark in the wild jungle of a yard, and I didn’t want to risk anyone tripping into poison ivy or falling over Thaddius’s abandoned evil sister out there.

  “So . . .” Addison trailed off, her eyes studying my face in a way that sent a self-conscious wave through me. “Are you really considering doing this?”

  I sighed. This was the most interesting thing that had happened to me in about twelve years, and selling this place would generate money that would allow me to finally have the means to pursue the tiny dream I’d been holding onto. I would expand the store, sell things that mattered to me, things I’d made.

  “Yeah, I’d like to.”

  Daniel let out a whoop and lifted the hideous Thaddius up in the air. I shot him a look, worried he might be too excited too soon. There was a lot to figure out.

  “You up for it?” I wanted her to say yes. We’d work out the details later—including how members of two feuding families could renovate a huge old house without killing each other.

  Addison looked uncertain, and glanced between me, Daniel and the old house. “I don’t know,” she said. “Can I sleep on it?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  We walked back to the square slowly, and I had the sense we were all lost in our thoughts. Except Thaddius, whose expression suggested his thoughts were pure evil. I shuddered and insisted Daniel put him in the trunk on the way home.

  8

  Sisterly Sarcasm

  Addison

  I didn’t want to discuss the house with my mother. She would have four million ideas and thoughts and emotions she would insist on sharing, and I had too many of my own to handle at the moment. And so after I said goodbye to Michael and Daniel in the square, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called my sister Paige instead. I needed to talk to someone.


  “Hey,” I said, my eyes lingering on the darkened Muffin Tin across the square. I wrapped my free arm around myself and shivered. Fall had definitely arrived even though it was only the beginning of September. “You guys busy tonight?”

  “No, actually. The girls are running around with the dogs and I’m just sitting here having a drink with Cormac.”

  “Oh,” I said, immediately feeling like an intruder. Compared to my planned evening of avoiding Lottie and maybe watching Upload or Younger again on my laptop, Paige did sound pretty busy.

  “Come over for a drink?” she suggested.

  “I really don’t want to intrude.” I totally wanted to intrude. And I needed to talk to someone rational. But Paige and Cormac were the illustration of everything I wished I had, and getting an up-close view of the life I thought I’d been heading for with Luke—but clearly had missed by miles—might be a little hard to take. Still, I couldn’t avoid going over to see Paige the whole time I was here just because she had a family I envied. I swallowed hard. “But I’d love to,” I added.

  “Good! Come whenever. It’s open. We’re out back.” I hung up, relieved. I had somewhere to go, for now, and someone to bounce this off. I thrived on having a plan. A car would have been nice too.

  Living in New York City for years meant I’d lived without things most people took for granted. A car, for instance. And while my mother was generous with her aging Toyota, she’d left the bakery and driven it home already. I hugged myself a little tighter and set out for Paige’s place. The nice thing about a very small town, I guessed, was that nothing was ever too far away. Depending on what the “thing” was. We didn’t have a lot of the big stores and restaurants in Singletree that other places had. We weren’t really a suburb of anything, so the town was really a self-contained collection of smaller versions of all the things people near bigger cities were used to. And while it was quiet and quaint, I missed a restaurant on every corner, a bodega around the block, and I missed my old life.

  Anger flared in me as I thought again about how my old life had come to a screeching halt. It hadn’t been much of a life after all, I guessed. More of an illusion. The thought left me cold and tired, and I felt more thankful than before that I was about to see someone who loved me.

  An early fall breeze was picking up as I walked and the streets were nearly dark by the time I reached Paige’s door. I didn’t bother knocking, but let myself into the sweet little cottage and tried hard to avert my gaze from all the signs of Paige’s perfect family life as I made my way back to the patio. The two pairs of little galoshes lined up by the door. The kid-sized armchairs positioned next to the couch. The life-sized kangaroo standing in the corner of the living room. Wait, the—?

  I screamed, and that brought a furious round of barking and scrabbling as the the dogs raced inside to see what the noise was about. They were followed by a tall, dark-haired man with friendly eyes and a worried expression on his face who found me still standing face to face with a very large marsupial.

  “Hey, Addie,” Cormac said, looking me up and down as if he might be able to figure out why I’d walked into my sister’s house and screamed. The dogs were leaping around me now, and I felt like I’d activated a circus. “Settle down, Luke. Bobo, quit it.” Both dogs quit jumping and exchanged a look, as if agreeing that they would resume immediately if the moment seemed to call for it again. They sauntered back outside. “You okay?” Cormac asked me.

  My heart was racing and it took me a second to answer. Maybe exploring the haunted house had put my nerves a little on edge. “I hadn’t expected the six-foot kangaroo in the corner is all.” Or for Paige’s dog to be named after my ex.

  “That’s Frederick. He’s friendly.”

  “Sure.” I gave the huge thing another once-over, wondering if Cormac was the cause of Paige’s deteriorating decorating skills or if there was something about enormous taxidermy I just couldn’t appreciate. Was this something Joanna Gaines was into now? I needed to watch more television.

  “Hey you!” Paige called as I stepped out to the patio.

  “Hey,” I returned, my eyes falling on the two little girls in fairy dresses twirling on the lawn with what looked like electric sparklers. Wands, I realized. They had wands. In the gloaming light with the dusky night settling around us, the girls really did look like little fairies, and their sweet laughter floated on the breeze and made tears prick at my eyes for some reason. “Hey,” I said again quietly as Paige stood to hug me.

  “You okay?” She held me out by my upper arms, frowning at me. “What’s going on? Wait, wine first.”

  “I’m on it,” Cormac said, turning back around and heading into the house.

  “Everything okay, Ads? Do I need to get rid of the man so we can talk?”

  We sank into chairs side by side. “No, he can stay. I do need to talk though. It’s not exactly girl stuff. It’s more, just . . . “

  Paige angled her chair toward me, but at the same moment, the little girls seemed to realize they had company, and the tiny one came scooting over, fairy wings fluttering behind her as she approached. She dropped a still-pudgy hand on Paige’s knee as she regarded me through huge blue eyes. “Maddie, this is my sister, Addison.”

  “I have a sister,” the little girl told me, her voice earnest and strong.

  “Is that her?” I asked, pointing at the older girl, leaping across the lawn.

  “Yes. Taylor.”

  “You are both very pretty fairies,” I told the little girl, my heart squeezing painfully as she smiled with pride.

  Cormac reappeared with three glasses of wine, and as he handed me one he said, “Do you need your sister alone for a bit? I can take the girls in for a bath.”

  I shook my head. “No, actually. I could use as many rational adult opinions on this as I can get.”

  His eyebrows rose, but he sat and pulled a chair closer.

  I told them about my very strange day, beginning with the part Paige already knew about Mrs. Easter’s fall in the street last week.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone,” Paige said, and I knew her doctor brain was working through what she might have missed, trying to figure out if there was something she could have done.

  “The lawyer assured us it was natural,” I told her. “In her sleep. Totally peaceful.”

  Paige nodded, her eyes sad.

  “So a house, huh?” Cormac said, his head angled to one side. “That’s crazy. And the money too.”

  “And you can’t just, like, sell the house and take the money?” Paige asked.

  “It’s all tied up together. And everything is built around Michael Tucker and I each spending six months living at the property.”

  “Ew,” Paige said. “That place is so creepy. And so are the Tuckers.”

  “It is all creepy,” I agreed. “Especially the house. Cool too though. I mean, it’s one of the oldest houses in town, right? The design of the place, though—it’s so pretty. It could be amazing if we could really get it solid again. I’d kill to have free rein to choose all the finishes. And there’s so much history there. Up in the attic there were all these ancient trunks and a bookshelf with shoeboxes and papers stacked up. Kind of a mess, really, but I bet there’s some interesting stuff in there.”

  “Right,” Cormac said, sounding thoughtful. “But I guess what I’m wondering, is what was Mrs. Easter’s purpose in throwing you and Michael Tucker together like this? She knew about the feud. Why you?”

  “I’m not totally sure,” I answered. “But she said something that day when we said goodbye, about it being time to end the feud. Her mother was a Tanner and her father was a Tucker—did you know that?”

  Paige shook her head. “How did that even happen? It must’ve been like Romeo and Juliet!”

  “It’s kind of romantic,” Cormac said, gazing fondly at my sister. By now, the little girls had come and climbed onto the arms of his Adirondack chair, and they were both watching me with open interest.
/>   “Everyone dies in that story,” Taylor, Cormac’s older daughter said. “It’s not romantic.”

  “That is an excellent point,” I said, agreeing with the sage words of a child. “And nothing good can come from Tuckers and Tanners hanging out together.”

  “Except maybe Mrs. Easter was right,” Paige said. “I mean, better you than me—I’ve been poisoned by proximity to Mom’s constant concern that a Tucker is going to redecorate The Tin again, or steal Verda’s moose.”

  “What do you mean, better me than you?” I asked.

  “The feud is ridiculous. No one even knows why we hate Tuckers, just that we do. I mean, this isn’t eighteen hundred. Let’s end it already. You should totally do this—end the feud for us all by realizing that Mrs. Easter was basically matchmaking.” Paige looked proud of herself for having figured this out.

  Matchmaking? Had Mrs. Easter really had that in her mind when she’d put this together? I wasn’t so sure. I could see her wanting to end the feud, I doubted she cared about my love life. And how did she even know either of us was single? “I don’t think that’s what she’s doing.”

  “Maybe she just wanted the two sides of her family to get back together,” Cormac suggested.

  “That makes more sense to me,” I said, letting my eyes slide shut as I thought about the house. “I could actually get excited about renovating the place, being allowed to choose all the colors and surfaces and everything. But I’m not sure at all about the moving in part.”

  Cormac chuckled. “Because the place is most likely haunted?”

  “No,” I said too quickly, thinking that my hesitation was exactly because the place was probably haunted, but I didn’t want to seem like I couldn’t handle a little fear. “Because it’s old. And I’m used to modern conveniences.”