“When will you move in?” she asked, deciding not to bicker over what he called her.
“Monday all right? I need the weekend to pack up and organize my things.”
“It’s fine. I’ll see you then.”
She stood and stretched, stiff from two hours on a coffee shop chair. Henry Dale left without looking back, and she stifled a laugh. She’d never been close to her own grandparents—like Mom, they compared Iris to her sisters and found her wanting—so this might be a nice change of pace. Dad’s parents were long gone; she’d never met them. And Dad? Well, he rarely glanced up from his professorial pursuits to intervene in the way his wife saw fit to run their home.
After buying a sandwich to go, Iris headed out to her Sentra, parked a block away because she hadn’t wanted to occupy a primo parking spot for that long. Her meter had two minutes left—perfect timing—and she drove home slowly, satisfied with how the day had gone. Iris rarely felt this way, as if she’d done an adequate job. Her phone rang, and she let it go to voice mail. It wasn’t safe to answer the phone while she drove, at least not without a headset, and she didn’t bother with such things. Whatever anyone wanted could wait until she got home. Besides, she wasn’t talking to Lily currently, Rose would nag about how she was being petty for not getting over Lily and Dylan, and she’d rather dodge calls from Mom, who insisted she get over her resentment for the sake of family unity. Funny how it’s always me being asked to swallow my emotions and be the bigger person. Once she pulled into the driveway, she checked and found a missed call from Olive.
Dammit. The one sister I’m not avoiding.
Olive rarely got a signal, and it must be important if she was trying to get in touch. Or maybe the others had dragged her into this low-key feud. That wasn’t the right word, though. More like Iris was just…done. Lily had wanted Dylan more than she’d wanted a relationship with her own sister. And Rose had a perfect life, so why didn’t she just live it instead of meddling?
Taking a deep breath, she rang Olive back. No surprise—it went to voice mail. “Sorry, I was driving,” she said after the tone. “Hope you’re well. Love and miss you.”
Now Olive could tell everyone else, She’s not dodging me. She called back right away. You’re imagining things. Because Olive tried to play peacemaker and she wanted everyone to get along—without dragging her into their problems. That was probably part of why she was living in an African tukul, not chasing success in the same way as Rose and Lily. Of her three sisters, Iris liked Olive best despite the ten-year age gap. She also approved of the way Olive deployed her special abilities, using them for good instead of her own gain.
At least Iris finally had her own place, far enough away from her family to discourage drop-in visits. They’d rarely come to see Great-Aunt Gertie, after all.
Things might finally be looking up.
* * *
This is ridiculous.
Eli had paid hundreds of dollars to avoid clearing up a misunderstanding. His chagrin didn’t stem from spending the money; he could afford it. But now he was connected to Iris through deception, and as he finished the final coat of paint in Gamma’s dining room, he let out a breath, irritated with himself. It would’ve been simple to square everything away, but no.
And now look, you made it worse.
Yet part of him also simmered with excitement. Becoming Iris’s roommate would allow him to get to know her without her suspecting that he’d known her for most of his life. Regrettably, the opposite wasn’t true, but she might like him if they spent time together. And then, once they became friends, he could mention the fact that they’d gone to elementary school together. Casually, though, like he’d just remembered. In time, he could work up to thanking her for what she did back then.
And then…
Well, he didn’t have all the answers. She might not even handle it well if she discovered his hawk shifter lineage. Already there were whispers about groups being formed among humans, dedicated to ferreting out those who were different. His people hadn’t come out like the witches had, but they’d stopped worrying about being discovered. There was no central body since shifters were rare, and hawks were solitary by nature, so everyone was playing it by ear, doing what seemed best individually.
For Eli, that meant keeping his cards close to his chest, as he’d learned all too well just how cruel humans could be. And that was when they had no concrete reason for hurting him, apart from him being small. There was no telling what they’d do if they learned his actual secret. While the world might’ve changed some, he still feared that human nature remained essentially the same.
Rather than fret about issues he couldn’t change, he went out the attic window, reveling in his wings catching the wind. He glided in a slow circle and eventually located Iris’s place from two miles away. It wasn’t difficult; she lived in the only purple house in town, and he flew that way on instinct until he circled above the fanciful Queen Anne roof that had sparrows nesting in the broken bits. Though repairs were needed, the place had a certain ramshackle charm, and he could envision Iris here. He flew on until the colors of sunset bled out into the darkness of night.
Sometimes he imagined living as a hawk, just packing in the human side. The call grew a little stronger year after year. Some shifters were more comfortable with their wild side, and that was true for Eli as well. But he still had a few ties to the world. So far, they always drew him back.
Eli spent the weekend feverishly working on Gamma’s house, getting the yard in shape—as much as possible with general autumn messiness. This was a tough time of year to sell a house, as the leaves dropped constantly, and he’d bulked up his raking muscles. At least the hedges were uniform, and he cleaned the gutters and then scrubbed the porch, ending with a power wash. Before the sun went down Sunday evening, he took a ton of photos for the listing agent. He emailed them to Gamma as well, who had been texting him about her welcome party. She’d chosen a fifty-five-plus community, where she’d bought a condo and was already getting involved in all the activities on offer.
Gamma: I’m having a great time. I signed up for salsa lessons.
Eli: That sounds fun.
Gamma: Should I learn how to write HTML or how to speak Spanish?
Eli: Can it be both?
Gamma: I only have so much time and energy!
Eli: Then Spanish. I might decide to find my relatives on Mom’s side at some point and you can come with me to Mexico.
Gamma: !! That would be amazing. I’ve been telling you to look for years. Gotta run, little man. I’ve been invited to a wine tasting.
He was glad she seemed to be doing well. There were no problems with her house; thanks to his efforts today, the outside looked fantastic too. He had faith that the place would sell like a dream, and it would be easier without him getting in the way. The real estate agent could show the house at any time without worrying about Eli eating toast in his boxers. And since he was hoping for a quick sale, it might be better if he was living locally, available to sign the closing papers when a solid offer came in. Eli knew he was rationalizing, but those were all excellent—and valid—reasons to stick around.
On Monday morning, Eli packed his suitcase and polished away the last traces of his own presence. After taking one last look at the house where he’d spent his teen years, he drove over to the real estate agent’s office and left the keys with her, signing all the papers necessary for her to set up showings. Keshonda Jennings was a professional, driven Black woman who set records moving properties around town, and he had a good feeling about what she could do for Gamma’s place.