dated plenty of people over the years. Loads. She’d even gone out with the Girl Scout dad once or twice.
But can you fault a girl for not settling? Honestly, while every other parent in the world challenged their daughters to stay strong, to not settle for any Joe Blow walking up their sidewalk with a bouquet of flowers, her parents were the opposite.
If she declared she met a guy across the country online the night before and they’d decided to elope, there’d be no demands to meet him. No background checks. No serious discussions regarding the weight of marriage. What would there be?
A plane ticket pushed into her hands and a teary wave at the security gate.
Bree walked back into the living room carrying two cups of steaming not-so-out-of-stock tea.
“Ah. Wonderful,” her mother said, stepping back into the living room from the hall bathroom and taking the mug in hand. “How about you open the green one first?”
So Bree opened the presents as they jumped from topic to topic, revealing a sweater as Dan effused about the new egg beater drill he bought for his shed, three crocheted pot holders for her nonexistent cooking life while her mother talked about the new gym she just joined, and one rather stunning little black dress for all the dates her parents were scheming up with her archenemy neighbor.
All in all the gifts, and the conversation, were lovely.
Finally, with crumpled wrapping paper around Bree’s feet and the mugs dry, Bree’s mother reached inside her purse.
“We have just one more for you, dear.”
Her mother held out a simple square box wrapped in gold foil. A red bow, like the kind a child gets on a new bike, was planted on top.
Somehow, the way her mother held it out, and the way Dan beamed as though knowing something she didn’t, made Bree hesitate.
Slowly, she reached out and took it. “Y’all are making me nervous,” Bree said.
They only smiled back, which didn’t help.
She popped off the bow and pulled off the wrapping paper.
It was a nondescript white box.
She lifted the lid, then her brow rose as she looked up.
“A . . . key?”
Her mind flew through the options while she picked it up and turned it in her hands. She hadn’t seen it before, surely? And this wasn’t one of those magical “Look outside! It’s your new Mercedes!” keys reserved for teenage country club kids. No, it looked more like a house key, or a shed key.
Oh no. Surely Dan wasn’t about to say he was sharing the contents of his shed with her. Of course, she’d always sounded enthusiastic about tools for his sake, but honestly. Could anyone really care that much about tailpipe cutters?
“It’s to the house.”
Bree’s thoughts came to a grinding halt. Her eyes shot from the key to her mother. Then to her stepfather. And back to her mother. “I have a key to Nana’s house already. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” her mother said slowly, her smile growing, “that we want to give you our portion of Nana’s house.” She paused. “With conditions.”
Bree’s heart started racing and, before she knew it, she was standing, the teeth of the key making dents in her palm. Her smile broadened. “You’re giving me Nana’s house?”
Bree swallowed the lump forming in her throat as she pulled the key to her chest.
“With conditions,” her mother repeated.
“Of course. Anything.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “I’m not going to get married to that guy from the post office. Don’t tell me it’s about the guy from the post office.”
Both of them laughed, but her stepfather laughed harder. “Of course not, Bree. Who cares about”—his eyes grazed the window—“Rick? You don’t need Rick.”
“Or him,” Bree replied, tossing her chin toward the window as well. “I take it back. I might consider Rick. Or a mail-order groom. But not him.”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” her mother said. “Don’t be silly. Just . . . come here. Sit.”
Her mother guided her to the couch next to Dan. She seated herself on the other side. Quite suddenly, Bree realized she was cornered.
“We have a proposition for you, dear. We know how much the house means to you—”
That was the understatement of the year.
“And we know that of all the people she loves, she’d want you to have it.”
Bree swallowed at the words.
“But—if we are going to hand our share of this property off to you, we know what a responsibility it will be. For starters, you’ll need to work out terms