Free The Someday Jar by Allison Morgan

and I will not let you make the same mistakes I did.”
    “Mom, I’m not—”
    “Don’t tell me this is about that ridiculous Someday Jar. Has it gotten you discombobulated already? Damn that man.” She pats underneath my chin. “Listen to me, Lanie. Evan is a solid man. He’s good to you. He wants to take care of you. Let him. Stop asking for more; you’ll wind up alone. Trust me, I know.”
    My eyes drift toward the house. Evan stands behind the front window. He waves me inside.
Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe the stress of the wedding, Wes, work, and stirred memories from the Someday Jar have gotten me flustered. Maybe I am making too big a deal out of this. I mean, honestly, Evan isn’t peddling heroin to Girl Scouts. It’s just real estate. Lumber and tile.
    “How many men buy their fiancées houses as wedding gifts, Lanie? How many? I bet most buy a necklace or a bracelet, if anything at all. Your father bought me a spoon.”
    “Are you coming?” Evan slides the window open and pokes his head outside. “I want you to see inside.”
    Yes, I wish he had included me in the house decision, in
any
decision that affects us, but he will in the future. I’m certain of it. Evan’s heart is in the right place. He did this for us. That’s what matters.
    I nod at my fiancé, then clasp Mom’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”
    We enter the double-high foyer with a massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead and I’m speechless. There are no wordsto describe this delicious house. Bright and spacious with high ceilings and creamy beige marble floors, it’s a showplace.
    “Oh, Lanie.” It’s all Mom can say.
    Beyond the formal dining room, we cross a long hallway extending in each direction, lined with doors, presumably for bedrooms and bathrooms.
    Ahead, we step two stairs down into the living room with super soft carpet and muffin-colored walls. Banked along the far, curved wall stand floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Not a fingerprint or smudge blurs the view of the grassy lawn and kidney-shaped swimming pool outside.
    I walk closer for a better look and notice a stunning rock formation. Almost as tall as the house, it spans the length of the pool’s opposite side. The rock looks volcanic, black, rough, and pitted. In the center, a waterfall trickles from its highest peak. On the right, a carved slide winds and twists before dropping into the pool’s deep end.
    “What do you think, Jane?” Evan asks, wrapping his arms around me. “Will this suffice for your daughter?”
    She claps her hands. “I’ll say. Glorious, Evan. Simply glorious.”
    “Is that a cave?” I point at a secluded section of the rock, overhanging the water.
    “Sort of. There’s a Jacuzzi hidden inside. Watch this.” He steps toward a nearby wall and punches a few buttons on a built-in computer panel, the size of an iPad, then motions toward the pool. After a couple of puffs, billows of fog escape from the cave.
    Mom and I gasp in unison.
    “Spectacular, wouldn’t you say?”
    “Yes, Evan, it is. It really is.” Mom’s right. Only a foolwould screw this up. Plus, I’m sure once we move in, our furniture will soften the echo, and with a few personal touches, the house will feel like a home.
    “I’ll poke around the rest of the house if you don’t mind,” Mom says.
    “Sure thing, Jane. Check out the media room at the end of the hall. The chairs vibrate.”
    “Ooh,” she says, and disappears in that direction.
    Wes comes around the corner, clutching a measuring tape, notepad, and pen.
    “Wes, let’s show Lanie the other side of the house and explain what we’re thinking with the remodel.”
    “I don’t see a single thing wrong with this house. Let’s leave it as it is.” I extend my hand toward Wes. “Thanks for coming, but we won’t be needing your services.”
    “Don’t be silly, Lanie.” Evan pats my lower back, then steps away, disappearing into the kitchen.
    “Yes, Lanie,” Wes smirks, “don’t be