Chapter 2

The whole mess started because I' d decided to come home early for Christmas. My firm had landed a massive contract, a new city library, and my design had been the one to clinch the deal. The partners were ecstatic, and along with a hefty bonus, they gave me an extra two weeks of vacation.

The thought of going home was a welcome one. Life in the city was a constant grind. As a senior architect, I lived and breathed blueprints, building codes, and client meetings. I was successful, independent, and proud of what I' d built for myself. But that success didn' t come easy.

Our father died of a heart attack when I was sixteen and Tom was just twelve. It shattered our world. My mother, Susan, was left to raise us alone, working two jobs just to keep food on the table. She cleaned houses during the day and waitressed at a diner at night. I watched her grow tired, her hands rough and her smiles rare.

I grew up fast. I took on after-school jobs, saved every penny, and studied relentlessly. I knew a scholarship was my only way out, my only way to build a life where my mother wouldn' t have to work herself to the bone. I got that scholarship, went to a top university, and never looked back.

My first priority after graduating and landing a good job was to take care of my family. I made sure my mom could finally quit her second job. Then, I focused on Tom. He was a good kid, but he lacked direction. He wasn't academic and drifted from one manual labor job to another.

He had a passion for gardening and landscaping, so I decided to help him turn it into a real career. I didn' t just give him a handout, I gave him a foundation. I used my bonus from the previous year, nearly fifty thousand dollars, to buy him that brand-new Ford F-150. I helped him register his business, "Miller' s Landscaping," and even paid for the first year of his business insurance. I found a small plot of land with a decent-sized garage for him to rent as his base of operations, paying the deposit and the first six months' rent. I wanted him to be self-sufficient, to have the pride of owning his own business. I thought I was giving him a future.

So when I booked my flight home, I was genuinely excited. I pictured a warm, happy reunion. I called Tom a week before I was due to arrive.

"Hey, little brother! I' m coming home early for Christmas," I' d said, smiling into the phone.

"That' s great, Sarah! When are you getting in?"

"Next Tuesday. Listen, I' m going to need to borrow the truck for a day or two. I have a ton of Christmas shopping to do for Mom, and my old car is not reliable."

"No problem at all," he' d said, his voice cheerful. "The keys will be waiting for you. Can' t wait to see you."

That conversation felt like a lifetime ago. When my plane landed, I walked out of the terminal, scanning the arrivals area for Tom' s familiar face. He wasn' t there. Instead, I saw my mom, waving tiredly, a thin coat wrapped around her shoulders against the December chill.

A knot of disappointment tightened in my stomach. "Mom? Where' s Tom? I thought he was picking me up."

"Oh, honey," she said, her voice strained as she took my bag. "He wanted to come, he really did. But his new girlfriend, Brittany, wasn' t feeling well. He had to stay and take care of her."

I frowned. A new girlfriend? This was the first I was hearing of it. "He couldn' t leave her for an hour to pick up his own sister?"

"You know how it is with new relationships," Mom said, giving a weak smile that didn' t reach her eyes. "He' s completely smitten with her. He said he' d see you at home later tonight."

The excuse felt flimsy, and a flicker of irritation went through me. For him to leave our aging mother to come to the airport alone just to tend to a girlfriend he' d never even mentioned... it rubbed me the wrong way.

But I looked at my mom' s tired face and decided to let it go, for now. I didn' t want to start my vacation with an argument. I wrapped my scarf more snugly around her neck.

"It' s okay, Mom. It' s good to see you. Let' s go home."

As we drove, I tried to push the feeling of unease away, but it lingered, a quiet warning of the storm that was about to break over our family.