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fishing rods. Crazy.

      “Yeah’s not an answer, dude.” Matt threw him a pity look, the kind bestowed upon the widows and orphans of the men who weren’t coming back.

      “Where do you suggest, moron?”

      “The clothes.” Matt met Stone’s gaze.

      They were still in the closet. Pretty pathetic. Clothes were always the first thing to go. It wasn’t like he was going to suddenly start wearing plaid shirts and polyester pants.

      “Right this way.”

      Winston followed them in the bedroom and lay like a rug near Dad’s bed. Stone made himself shove shirts and pants, even an old suit he’d never seen before, into a plastic garbage bag.

      Matt worked faster, bagging up two to every one of Stone’s. “I’ll take all these to Goodwill Industries.”

      “Sure.” Stone didn’t look at Matt. They were just clothes. It shouldn’t make any damn difference. He didn’t understand why his chest felt tight.

      “By the way, she came by to see me again yesterday.” Matt said it like it was nothing, like he might as well be talking about the weather.

      “Why?” Stone didn’t even have to ask who “she” was. She’d somehow decided Matt was her new best friend.

      “You know why. She wants to talk to you.”

      “I have nothing to say to her.”

      “She’s your sister,” Matt said with an emphasis on the word sister, as if it was supposed to mean something to Stone. It didn’t.

      Not his fault. His parents had made that decision, and he’d had no say in the matter. Only now, he was left to pick up the pieces. All in the past, and best left there. He wasn’t going to start singing “Kumbaya” this late in the game. “Here’s the thing. I don’t know her anymore.”

      “You could get to know her. Again.” Matt threw another bag in the pile.

      But it had been Sarah’s choice to stop visiting summers after that last one when she’d been thirteen. He’d been fifteen at the time, and sue him if he’d been a little busy. Their parents had each agreed that by fourteen each kid could decide where they wanted to spend their summer. That summer Stone chose to stay in California where he had a job and a learner’s permit. It meant that he’d spent the summer with his sister for the first time since the divorce. Looking back, he probably hadn’t paid her enough attention but what he’d remembered of that summer was a teenage girl with attitude. Not much different from now.

      Dad didn’t know what the hell to do with her, either, when she didn’t want to fish or camp anymore. Every morning she’d glare daggers at the both of them as if they were doing something to offend her by simply breathing. Then she’d gone in the bathroom for three hours where she did something to her hair.

      It was about all he remembered of that last summer from hell.

      The next summer Sarah chose not to visit again, nor any summer after that. There had been cards over the holidays and a few strained phone calls. Stone had unfortunately had a front-row seat to his father’s confusion and pain at feeling shut out of his daughter’s life. It had served to remind Stone to call his mother and not just wait for her calls to him. He might not have thought he needed her much as a stupid teenager, but he’d always loved his mother. Which was why he couldn’t quite understand Sarah’s anger now. She’d made the choice. If their father hadn’t begged, it was because the Mcallister men didn’t beg.

      Stone surveyed the closet. They’d made a dent in it, but not much more. He’d leave the boxes on the shelves for another time. Had his father thrown anything away? Ever?

      Stone reached for a tie that looked straight out of the seventies. Probably not. “Maybe we should have a family reunion. Picnic, maybe?”

      “Don’t be a smartass.”

      “She wants to sell to a developer. There’s nothing to talk about.”

      “You could talk and explain this is what your Dad wanted.”

      “She knows that. All she wants is more money. She doesn’t care that people are about to lose their livelihoods.” It wasn’t just Cassie and Jedd. The airport had a small air museum, the only one of its kind for miles. There was also the Shortstop Snack Shack, owned and operated by a retired firefighter. Dad had owned the hangar building and leased the space to everyone else. The aviation school was the anchor, and if it was sold to a developer all the other businesses would go, too.

      “I get the feeling your sister might be reasonable. Why not meet with her?”

      “I did.” All she’d wanted to do was hurl insults and accusations at their late father. He carried enough guilt about those last months without Sarah adding to it.

      “Again, I mean.” Matt slid him a look. “One meeting that didn’t go well isn’t enough. It’s worth a try.”

      But Stone wasn’t sure of that anymore. He should talk with Sarah again, to see if he could get her to see reason. Matt seemed to think she was open, but that hadn’t been Stone’s experience. Some people were a lost cause, and he felt fairly certain the sister he didn’t know anymore was one of them.

      “WAKE UP, EMILY.”

      Emily opened one eye.

      Grammy stood over her, dressed in her sparkly blue jeans and leopard-print top. It was one of the most irritating things about her grandmother. She refused to give in to convention and wear tracksuits like all her friends did.

      Emily hadn’t even heard her come in. “What good is it to give me the loft for privacy if you keep barging in on me like this? What if I had company?”

      “Emily, dear, please. I don’t have time for jokes. We have the Chamber of Commerce party today. I’ll need you to help George. He’s an old man now.”

      “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

      George Carver had worked for the family for as long as Emily could remember. Old or not, he was still their handyman, their gardener and a long-time family friend.

      Emily’s dog, Pookie, a Poodle and Chihuahua mix, peeked out from the under the covers.

      “You’re letting Pookie in your bed? What’s wrong with you?”

      “She’d old, Grammy, and it was cold out last night. I caught her shivering.” That was Emily’s story and she was sticking to it. Growing up on their pseudo ranch usually meant dogs lived outside, but Emily liked it better this way. If Grammy was going to let Emily have the loft over the garage, then Emily could let Pookie have a spot on her bed at night.

      “Girl, your heart is just too big. Pookie has you fooled. She’s fine outside and has a warm dry place in the pen. Cuddles up next to Beast every chance she gets. Anyway, the meat is coming in at noon, and I’ll need you to check it. You know what happened last time.” Grammy started to make the bed with Emily in it.

      “Hey. Why don’t you let me get out of bed first? What time is it?” Fighting to push off the last dregs of sleep, Emily pulled the covers up to her nose. She wasn’t sure, but she might have been in the middle of a dream that made her blush, even thinking of it. It might have involved Stone and some of that horizontal dancing.

      “It’s time for you to get up. And there’s something I want to show you first.” Grammy walked toward the front door and put her hand on the doorknob.

      “What is it?” Emily rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock. Eight thirty. Too bad Grammy didn’t believe in sleeping in even on the weekends, because right now all Emily wanted was another few minutes. And she wasn’t going to get them.

      “Wait till you see. I ordered

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