Confessions from the Quilting Circle, Maisey Yates [animal farm read TXT] 📗

“Agree. Mom?” Avery asked. “How much potpie do you want?”

“I can serve myself.”

“No,” Avery said. “You don’t have to. Just sit. I’ll get you some wine.” Avery was a flurry of movement, and even when Lark and Mary had their food, Avery didn’t sit. She opened up the cupboards and looked in each of them, frowning. Lark could almost see an inventory building in her sister’s head.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Avery said. “Didn’t you talk to Hannah at all about what her idea was for this place?”

“No.” Lark felt vaguely wounded by that. There was a plan, and Hannah hadn’t said anything to her?

That made her feel more like the baby sister than anything had for a while.

“Finally!” Laden with suitcases, Hannah pushed the door open with her shoulder, her bright red hair, a shade or two down the aisle from the color their grandmother had used, covering her face. “I couldn’t seem to get a car. I had to rent one.”

Her suitcases were flung out in front of her, her violin in a black case slung over her shoulder. Lark didn’t see a purse. She was sure her sister had one, but the violin was obviously her most important possession.

“Yeah, I don’t think ridesharing has really caught on around here,” Lark said.

“Do you mean those apps? Aren’t all the drivers serial killers or something?” Avery asked. Everyone looked at her. “One of my friends shared a post about it online.”

Hannah and Lark exchanged a glance.

“Well, I’ve managed to use it for about five years now and not get serial killed. But I’m keeping my fingers crossed,” Hannah said. “It will be good to have a car, but I don’t really want to pay for a rental for the next three months.”

“Dad said you could borrow the car,” Mary said.

“Thanks,” Hannah responded.

“I drove,” Lark said, only then registering that her sister had not in fact asked if she needed the car. “So I have my car,” she finished lamely.

Dad and Hannah had always had their own special thing. Not that Lark thought he loved Hannah more. She just wasn’t shocked that he’d set the car aside for her.

“That smells good,” Hannah said. She grabbed a paper plate and served herself a large portion of salad, and a small wedge of pie, passing on the wine and taking a sparkling water the same as Lark.

Soon they were all sitting around the table, except Avery, who was standing, leaning against the kitchen counter, holding a glass of wine.

“Do you want to sit?”

Avery blinked. “Oh,” she said. “I just get so used to not having a chance to sit.”

But she didn’t move from her position.

“Avery says you have an idea?” Lark pointed that statement at Hannah.

“Oh,” Hannah said. “Yes. I do. Well, we’re doing a scaled back concert series this summer, and I wasn’t needed for the next three months.” Lark couldn’t read her sister’s emotions. She was laying it out matter-of-factly, but Lark had the sense she wasn’t all that happy to have three months off. “I’m clear until end of August.”

“You can just...leave for a few months?” Avery asked.

“I don’t even have a houseplant,” Hannah said. “Easily mobile by design, thanks.” Lark knew that sometimes the orchestra sent people to other orchestras on loan. Her sister had spent seasons in New York, London and Moscow.

On paper, she and Hannah were pretty similar. Creative professions, the chance to move around. But there was a tenacity and intensity to Hannah that had skipped Lark. Avery had it too. She just channeled it into school events.

But Hannah was an island. An island of isolated, locked down emotion. Whatever her sister really felt about things was tough to get a handle on. She might be outspoken, but that wasn’t the same as sharing feelings.

Hannah was allergic to feelings.

“I have the summer, free and clear. And I thought I could spend that time helping revamp everything here and... When it’s over we can turn this into a vacation rental.”

“It’s a great idea,” Avery said, using her school meeting voice. “Because none of us want to live here, right?”

“No,” Mary said. “I’m not antsy to move back into my childhood home.”

“David hates this house,” Avery said. “The last thing he wants to do is fuss with potentially faulty plumbing on a day-to-day basis. Old houses are charming and wonderful, but they can also be a pain in the butt. Hannah isn’t staying. Lark, I assume you’re going back to New Mexico.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Lark said, bypassing the question she’d been asked. She was happy to linger over their plans for a moment, which would give her more space to address her own next. “A vacation rental. The house is famous. I think people will really enjoy staying here.” She took a deep breath. “I want to stay here. In town. Permanently.”

Avery and Hannah looked shocked. Her mother’s expression was smooth, except one divot on the right side of her mouth, which suggested pleasure.

“Have you ever been to a Craft Café?”

That earned her a couple more blank stares.

“They’re these cafés where you can come in and work on crafts. I think that’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“Does anyone do that?” Avery asked.

“Yes. They’re getting more popular in places, and I think it could work here. We get all the tourism in the summer, and the kinds of people who move here are... Well, they have a lot of leisure time on their hands. They’re either retired, or they have family money of some kind.”

“What about your illustrations?”

Her heart squeezed uncomfortably. “I... I’m taking a break from it. But I have the money to put into the place. I don’t need to use Gram’s. But we all own The Miner’s House and I am proposing that I use it for business. So, I need all of you to be on board with it.”

“I don’t have plans for it but...”

“Do you have a business plan?”

Her mom and Hannah spoke at the same