“It’s complicated,” Derek muttered.
“Most good decisions are.”
Maya finally spoke.
She thought the rental idea sounded sensible.
Derek shot her a quick glance before looking back at me.
Then I introduced the option that mattered most to me.
I wanted to buy them both out.
I hadn’t guessed at the numbers. I’d spoken with my bank, met with a mortgage broker, reviewed my savings, checked my credit, and calculated exactly what I could afford.
It wouldn’t be easy.
But it was possible.
“You want to keep it,” Amber said.
“I want to keep it.”
Derek slowly looked around the kitchen.
His eyes paused on the rooster tiles, then drifted toward the basement door where part of Dad’s workshop was visible.
“Why?”
There wasn’t any hostility in his voice.
He genuinely wanted to know.
I had already thought about my answer.
“Because it holds thirty-two years of who he was,” I said. “Because his workshop is in the basement and his tools are on the pegboard and the tiles are the ones his mother picked. Because I drove here in the middle of the night six weeks ago and sat on the edge of his bed and knew I was not ready for this to be someone else’s house.”
