up my hands in mock surrender. "Fine. Never mind. It was just a thought."
"Well, next time I'll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself."
I smiled. "You're welcome."
"What?" she sputtered. "I wasn't thanking you for real."
"Good," I said. "Because I wasn't 'you're-welcoming' you for real."
"Oh, shut up," she said. "That's not even a thing." She sighed yet again. "This whole job's a total pain."
Now, I did scoff. "Which is why they call it a job." Even as I said it, it suddenly struck me that it wasn't feeling like a job to me. In some ways, it felt more like a vacation, probably because I hadn't had one in years.
Waverly said, "I don't care what they call it. This isn't what I signed on for."
Just then, the side door opened, and Brody walked in, looking surprisingly pensive.
At the sound of his footsteps, Waverly whirled to face him. "Finally," she said.
He stopped just inside the doorway. "Finally what?"
"Finally you're home." She gave him a winning smile. "So, what's for dinner?"
"Nothing," he said. "We already ate."
Her smile faded, and she gave me a long sideways glance. "Who's 'we'?"
Brody replied, "Everyone at the job site."
"And who was that?" she asked.
"If you wanna know," he said, "show up sometime."
She drew back. "What?"
"And you should know," Brody added, "Roy's been working his ass off."
"Yeah," she said. "Because that twat-waffle is bucking for my job."
Brody gave her a look. "You mean he's doing your job."
Waverly made a sound of annoyance. "What is it with you two? " She gave me an irritated look before continuing. "First I've got to hear it from her. And now from you, too?"
When Brody's glanced in my direction, I looked heavenward in shared commiseration.
Waverly said, "I saw that!"
I tried not to smile. "Saw what?"
"That eye-roll." She looked back to Brody. "You saw it, right?"
Without bothering to reply, he said, "We done?"
"We can't be done," she said. "We haven't even started."
I asked, "Started what?"
She looked to me and said, "I wasn't talking to you."
"Good," I said, "because I wasn't listening."
"You were, too!"
Now, I did smile. "Sorry, what'd you say?"
"I said…" But then, her eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. I see what you did there." She looked back to Brody. "You see how she's ganging up on me?"
I almost laughed. "I can't be ganging up anyone. I'm only one person."
"Yeah, and I'm Little Miss Lollypop," she said. "What of it?"
Little Miss Lollypop? I couldn’t help it. I snickered. And when I looked to Brody, he looked dangerously close to snickering, too.
But Waverly looked ready to pop. "Stop laughing!"
When I tried – and failed – to wipe the smile from my face, Waverly said, "You know what? Forget it. You're both fucking nuts. It's always 'the house this' and 'the house that.' Well you know what?" Her voice rose. "I fucking hate that house!"
And with that, she turned and stalked toward her bedroom. When the door slammed behind her, I swear, it shook the whole place.
This left me and Brody alone in the kitchen. With an awkward smile, I said, "So, honey, how was your day?"
As the question echoed out between us, I almost winced. Honey? I hadn't meant to say that. I forced a laugh. "Never mind. Bad joke." As I said it, I turned away, intending to slink back into my bedroom before I made an even bigger fool of myself.
From behind me, Brody said, "Wait."
I stopped and turned to face him. "For what?"
With no trace of humor, he said, "I've got a question."
"About what?"
"The house across the street," he said. "What happened with it?"
I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at. "What do you mean?"
He gave me a serious look. "I mean, why don't you own it?"
Chapter 38
Arden
I stared up at him. "Is that a serious question?"
Brody frowned. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
No. He didn't. In fact, he looked more serious than he had in a while. Still, I didn't get it. "Well, you must be joking," I said, "because you know the reason I don't own it."
"Which is…?"
"Because you own it."
"But I didn't always."
As if I needed the reminder. "Yeah, because you bought it from my cousin." I sighed. "And me. Sort of."
"You?" His eyebrows furrowed. "But you never owned it."
"Well, not officially," I said.
"What does that mean?"
It was such a long, convoluted story, I hardly knew where to begin. "Well, you already know that my grandparents owned the place, right?"
"Right."
"Well, my grandma – she died about six years ago, right after I graduated from high school." At