our full sister. Turns out she was a half-sister. And the second can was that our mama had left us fifty million dollars in a trust. A trust that was being challenged because there was suspected foul play surrounding her death.
Feeling restless, I paced my living room, unable to relax as I waited for my brothers and sister to show up. I wished that they could just let the past be the past, but it seemed like they were hell-bent on finding out the truth.
I went to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge and stared at the photo that my sister had put up with a magnet. It was of all my siblings standing in front of the bar on the day of Pop’s funeral. When I looked at Billy and Jimmy I still saw the rug rats I’d had to raise. Sure, they were both grown men now who were engaged to be married. But when I looked at them I saw the toothless kids that I had to force to eat vegetables, do homework, and get in bed before ten p.m.
And then there was Cheyenne, my baby sister. If I were being honest, it was difficult for me to look at her. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Cheyenne, I did. But my maternal grandparents had swooped in after my mother’s funeral and taken Cheyenne to Connecticut when she was barely five.
I hadn’t watched her grow up. She walked back into our lives as a young adult. So when I looked at her I saw one thing, my mother. She was the spitting image of her. The same long blonde hair, huge blue eyes, and smile that lit up brighter than the lightning bugs Firefly Island was renowned for. Sometimes when she walked into a room, for a split second it was like seeing a ghost. It didn’t help that they also shared the same mannerisms, and their voices were identical.
Seeing her and hearing her brought feelings to the surface I’d rather keep buried. Not only because of how badly I missed Mama but also because of the secret I’d been keeping from my siblings since the day after Mama died. A secret I was scared I’d have to share with them if they kept up this damn hunt for the truth about the night she died.
My head was all over the place when I heard a loud knock at the door. I knew who was standing on the other side. My youngest brother always knocked like he was SWAT and this was a trap house.
Before I even opened the door all the way, he was inside askin’, “Where’s the food?”
“Didn’t call the meeting.” I shouldn’t have to explain that to him since it was his fiancée that had. The rule was, whoever called the meeting provided the food.
“Haven’t ya heard? Your house, you’re hostin’.” Jimmy winked and headed to the kitchen.
“Since when?” I closed the door behind him.
“Since you changed the locks,” he bellowed as he opened the fridge door. “Hey, can you watch Sherlock for a couple days next week? Bella has a meeting in New York and I’m taggin’ along.”
“Yeah.” Jimmy had gotten the hound dog when he was a teenager and I’d spent the first few years of the mutt’s life takin’ care of him. I’d been the one to potty train him, clean up his messes, and take him to the vet to get his balls cut off. At the time, I’d been pissed because it was one more thing I was responsible for, but when Jimmy moved out and took the dog with him I’d missed the damn thing more than I’d care to admit.
Something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye and I walked over to the window that faced the back of the property and looked at the blue house that had new residents. I’d hoped to get a sighting of my new neighbors, but it turned out to be the screen door flapping. The place had to be in pretty bad shape since Old Man Thompson hadn’t lived in it for over five years. I was thinkin’ I might head on over there later and offer to check out the pipes and electrical. It was the neighborly thing to do, after all.
I was already making a mental list of what I’d need to inspect when I heard a light knock at the door. When I opened it I found Jimmy’s better half standing