Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“They are tough hands,” she says, as if charting it down for history’s sake. “Of the best digging caliber.”
It reminds me of all the moments she’s done something similar, of all the times she couldn’t possibly remember. I have serious déjà vu again.
“See, I’ve got the hands,” I breathe.
“What do I bring?”
“The heart.” I eye her lips as she eyes mine. “You have two since I already gave you mine.”
She presses a hand to her heart. “Feels mighty.”
God, I want to wrap myself around her and hold her for the rest of eternity. Till death do we never part. “Your heart is mighty, Luna,” I say.
Her smile appears, and it’s a beautiful sight. I help her to her feet. Standing, I curve my arms around her shoulders, and she holds on to my waist with equal force.
I glance down at Luna Hale, at her soft pink lips and more residual glitter near the creases of her amber eyes. “We’re gonna dig ourselves out of every hole anyone tries to push us in, I know that.”
“You’re not exhausted yet?” she wonders.
“Not even close,” I say. “Are you?”
“No,” she says with more confidence. “I’d do anything to be with you.” I believe her when she says it, but there are things I never want Luna to have to do.
She peers back at the freshly dug grave we wandered away from. Only a few cars remain, and beside a silver Rolls-Royce, an older woman shoots us a scathing look. Her wrinkly fingers clasp the strand of pearls around her neck.
The Crow.
“I think I screwed the chance at ever being her favorite,” Luna says softly.
“Lucky you.”
Her grandmother waits for her driver to open the door, but as soon as he does, she has to tear her glare off me. After slipping inside the car, she disappears.
HOLIDAY TASK LIST
SENT BY JANE MORETTI
This is an extensive list of your duties for when you arrive at the lake house. Please complete the decorating in a timely manner, as Christmas Eve is tomorrow. There is a separate list of who’ll be cooking breakfast and lunch while our parents handle all dinners, you can see the meal plan for the week (page 3). Also, if you’d like to switch tasks with a cousin/sibling/spouse, that is acceptable, as long as every task is completed. Merci beaucoup! Joyeux noël!
Jane/Moffy: Unload and put away all food provisions.
Thatcher/Farrow: Chop firewood.
Charlie/Beckett: Shovel snow off front porch and back deck. (If no snow, help wherever needed.)
Sulli/Akara/Banks: Find and chop down Christmas tree.
Eliot/Tom: Outdoor lights – porch, bushes, etc.
Luna/*Donnelly: Reindeer duty (*unclear whether Donnelly is joining the family or security for the holidays. If security, disregard him from this list, and Eliot & Tom will help Luna.)
Xander/Ben: Tree lights. (Untangle first, then help wherever is needed until the tree is available.)
Winona/Vada: Garland and wreaths, inside and outside.
Kinney/Audrey: Trinkets around house, ornaments, and Cardboard Connor.
15
LUNA HALE
The lake house during Christmastime. As far as my memory stretches back, this place has been a sanctuary, even amid holiday mayhem and some fiery disputes. Like that one time Charlie made Ben cry and lock himself in his bedroom for five whole days. Ben was seven.
There have been sibling and cousin rifts. There’ve been burnt sugar cookies and smoky kitchens. Hundreds of unwrapped presents, many more smiles, home videos, and tears of joy and tears of sorrow. It is the recipe of every messy, lovable family, but ours just happens to be of the extremely wealthy variety. With security housing down the street and bodyguards posted round-the-clock a mile out so the public never discovers the cherry red lake house.
I love it here, and I’d like to believe all of this has never changed and will never change while we’re alive. That even among the heartache and pain, this is the place where we get stitched back together.
None of us have taken off our funeral wardrobe. Even Tom and Eliot are in their designer suits while balancing on the roof and stringing lights against the gutter. I have a good view of them since I’m outside on the front yard.
It’s already the evening in the Smoky Mountains, so we’re trying to finish our tasks before sundown.
“You have a typo, Jane Eleanor!” Tom calls out when Jane carries tote bags of vegetable produce to the house. “It’s not a task list. It’s a chore list.”
“You tell her, brother,” Eliot grins.
“That is not the definition of a typo,” Jane notes, struggling with the front door while her hands are full. I’m about to go help when Moffy exits and kicks out a doorstopper for her. She thanks him in French and says other words I can’t translate as easily.
My older brother replies in the same language, but as she switches to English, I realize they’re discussing the logistics of putting away groceries while Jane is also keeping an eye on her newborn. Maeve has been napping in a portable bassinet, currently located in the kitchen.