Boss of Me

Stopping in front of me, her face scrunches with a frown. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

“Oh, Renée…” My throat aches, and when I close my eyes, two tears hit my cheeks. Nooo… I don’t want to cry anymore, but my eyes have a mind of their own these days. “Everything is wrong. I had to come home and see you. I just… I just needed to see you.”

It’s so late, and I’m so tired. I don’t know what I want to say to her, but I can’t do it tonight. Instead, I hug her again, placing my face against her shoulder.

“Did Patton Fletcher hurt you?” Her voice is not scolding. It’s protective and warm, just like a big sister ought to be.

How long has it been since she was able to help me like this?

I don’t even care.

“No… I mean, not directly.” Lifting my head, our eyes meet. Her hazel ones are so full of concern, I want to talk to her about this, but I can’t do it tonight. “It’s really complicated.”

“Let me make you some tea. I have a special blend for when I’m feeling down. I call it gogo-gi. It’s made with gogi berries and rose hips, lemon oil, melon, and hibiscus. It’ll make you feel right as rain.”

I don’t bother reminding her I don’t like hot tea. I’m too tired, and honestly, with the way my insides are, I’m willing to try anything if it helps me feel less devastated.

Following her into the kitchen, I sit at the long table across from the bar as she fills the kettle.

Looking around at the modern appliances, I can’t hold back any longer. “What happened to the house?”

She pauses, seeming confused. She follows my eyes around the room then returns to me. “What do you mean?”

“It looks amazing. When did you do all this work? How could I not have known?”

“Well… I guess I should have told you.” Her lips press together as she clicks on the gas stove. “But I was pretty confident this would work out, and it was clear you weren’t planning to come back here to live any time soon. So I did my research and crunched the numbers… And you were so close to finishing business school. I didn’t want you to worry.”

Listening to her explaining makes me smile in spite of myself. Renée rambles just like I do when she’s nervous. It’s soothing being with her, feeling our family connection so strong.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad. It really looks great, but how?”

“I got a loan from the bank about a year ago—”

“Another loan? Renée!”

“Now just hang on…” She takes down two mugs from the cabinet and two shiny silver steepers from the drawer. “It was a small-business loan. I renovated this ole place, and now I have it up on Airbnb.”

I put my elbow on the table and drop my head against my hand. “A concept I’d like to put out of my brain for a few days.”

“I got the idea from Fletcher International, and you wouldn’t believe it. I made almost five thousand dollars a week last summer!”

I sit up quick when she tells me that. “What the hell?”

Nodding, she puts two scoops of tea in a silver infuser and places it in a mug. Then she takes another canister and repeats the process with a different tea.

“Let me get this straight… You rent the house to people visiting the area, and what? When they arrive you all sleep back there together? Isn’t that sort of crowded?”

“Oh no, I stay with Ms. Hazel when guests are here. I let them have the whole house. That’s how I’m able to clear so much money.”

“Why have I been worrying about you being able to make ends meet?”

The kettle starts to whistle, and she laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I tell you every time you call I’m doing fine, not to worry about me.”

It’s true. She always tells me she’s fine, but I never believe her. I’ve been living in fear she’s going to have another breakdown when the reality is, she’s putting her accounting degree to work and making a buttload of money.

Walking to where I’m sitting, she puts the mug in front of me. “Now only let that steep for two minutes or it gets bitter.”

“Okay.”