Free The House on Honeysuckle Lane by Mary McDonough Page B

on me daily to make sure I hadn’t accidentally burned it down?
    â€œThe family created a bit of a monster in Danny,” Andie said with a sigh.
    â€œA loveable one.”
    â€œYes,” Andie agreed. “Most times.”
    The sisters continued to work in companionable silence for a time, and Emma realized once again how she treasured their relationship. To be with Andie was to be with someone Emma trusted and loved entirely. And it had been that way right from the start. Being only two years apart, they had spent a lot of time together as children, playing with their dolls or kicking around a soccer ball or watching Disney movies, or simply being each other’s companion on long summer afternoons when it was too hot to do anything but sit close to the air conditioner, hair held up off their sweaty necks. Those experiences, simple as they were, had created a strong bond between the sisters, a bond that continued still, even though their adult lives had taken them in different directions and they rarely got to spend time face to face.
    â€œI was surprised when Danny suggested we come with him and the kids when they go to cut down a Christmas tree,” Andie said, breaking the silence. “Like we used to do with Dad, he said. I always felt horribly sad at the destruction of a living thing,” she admitted. “Emma? When Danny said we should come along because the kids want us there, did you believe him?”
    â€œNot really,” Emma told her. “I mean, I don’t think Sophia and Marco would mind us along, but I think Danny is the one with the sudden need for family outings.”
    â€œYou’re right,” Andie agreed. “He’s nostalgic for our youth. And in some ways our childhood really was idyllic. At least, it seems that way to me now, aside from Mom always telling me to watch my weight. Things only started to go wrong for me when I made the decision to marry Bob. To marry anyone, really. To settle down to a life I wasn’t meant to live. But that was no one’s fault but my own.”
    â€œYou felt under pressure from Mom and Dad,” Emma pointed out. “They could take some of the blame.”
    â€œBut why should they?” Andie shrugged. “I own my choices, right or wrong.”
    Emma thought about that. She thought about the pressure she had felt to follow in her father’s footsteps, even before he’d made her the offer to join him in business, and she realized that she still harbored some residual resentment over her mother’s inability to appreciate her decision to make a life elsewhere. It was childish, holding a grudge, blaming her mother for being nothing more or less than who she was. Childish and pointless.
    â€œLook, Andie.” Emma pointed to an old-fashioned black metal alarm clock on one of the bookshelves, where it was being used as a prop for a few copies of National Geographic . “This was Grandma Reynolds’s clock. It’s not exactly valuable. In fact, I’m kind of surprised Mom allowed it to be kept around.”
    â€œOnly because Dad wanted it to be,” Andie reminded her. “She’d never deprive Dad of something he really wanted, like his mother’s old wind-up alarm clock.”
    Emma laughed. “Do you remember the awful din this thing made? Really, your eardrum could burst if you were in ten feet of it when it went off.”
    â€œI think it can safely go in the trash.” Andie raised an eyebrow. “After we ask Danny’s permission.”
    â€œI doubt he has any memory of Grandpa Andrew or Grandma Alice at all. They died when he was just one. He can’t have much of an attachment to what little they left behind.”
    â€œMaybe not,” Andie agreed. “Still, let’s play it safe and check with him before we start loading up the trash bags.”
    Emma nodded. And she thought of how their Carlyle grandparents had died when Andie was seven, she