advice.”
Yeah. I don’t think I’m the one to talk to for life advice, Hannah thought. If Fiona only knew. Thankfully she didn’t, and she wouldn’t. Apparently she had her own life stuff going on, because, well, frankly, when did Fi not have life stuff going on? But Hannah would happily listen. Especially if it meant stuffing her own problems on a shelf for a little while longer.
Logan was the oldest McCrae sibling, but while they’d all three turned to him for things like killing spiders, changing tires, and intimidating ex-boyfriends, he was not the one they turned to for life advice. And though Barbara had always been a sounding board of sorts for all three McCrae girls, and loved them unconditionally, her brand of advice was more along the lines of the no-nonsense wisdom passed down by grandparents and well-intentioned clan elders.
So Hannah had, at a pretty early age, become the default mother figure for her two younger sisters. She remembered their parents, gauzy though her memories had become over time. She’d been five when they’d been killed in a car accident, the victims of a late-season, freak ice storm, but at barely three and just shy of two years old, respectively, Fiona and Kerry had only the many stories they’d been told to form their memories.
Just as she’d always done, Hannah put aside her own fears and insecurities to do her best to keep her siblings on even ground. The hard part wasn’t keeping her own life mess to herself; it was trying not to feel guilty that she’d been a little relieved to have Fiona and Kerry not needing her ear or shoulder lately.
Kerry had flown the family nest quite young, and for some time now had generally only needed her oldest sister for things involving international legal matters and the occasional help securing a bail bond. Fiona was the more traditional younger sibling, who turned to her big sister for help and advice on what Hannah had come to call the Big Three: job, living situation, men. Most of life’s problems fell under one of those categories, along with their occasional overseer: finances. Though, in all honesty, her sisters had generally taken care of themselves in that department. Where Kerry was concerned, Hannah tried not to think too much about how she was making that happen.
And I’ve hit the Big Three trifecta, Hannah thought dourly, having recently divested herself of all three.
“We’ll have time, Fi,” she told her sister, dragging her thoughts firmly back to the here and now. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
Fiona hugged her again. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.” She looked up; then just as quickly as she’d fallen apart, her expression cleared and turned shrewd and observational. “Now, let’s see what we can do about your face. Then we’ll work on the dress.”
Hannah might be the pro when it came to tackling the Life Big Three, but Fiona was the queen of the Girl Big Three: clothes, food, and makeup.
“I think I might have maxed out even your admirable skill set,” Hannah said. Without even looking, she could feel the color settling in more deeply around her eyes as the ache settled in with it. And not the kind of color one applied with a magic makeup wand.
“Never underestimate the power of a great foundation,” Fiona said, gently pushing her sister to sit on the delicate antique bench seat positioned at the foot of the old sleigh bed.
Oh, the stories that sleigh bed could tell, Hannah thought. So many nights of laughter, of tears, of plotting and planning, discussing the important subjects of their lives. At least they’d seemed life-or-death at the time.
Hannah sighed and thought how nice it would be if she could just crawl under the old quilt, curl up in a ball, and sink back into that time when figuring out how to sneak Billy John Buckley her phone number without Logan finding out, so Billy could invite her and Fiona to the Cove’s winter festival skate night with him and his