Page 133 of Rhodes

I look sideways at him. There's no hedge anywhere in it.

"Thank you for saying that, Dad. I'm sorry for my part in it, but I'm glad we could all come together at the end."

"I'm proud of what you built. I want you to know that."

The words land in a spot I didn't have braced. My eyes sting. I kick at the shell under my toe so he won't see the tears welling up. I blink them back.

"How you sleeping these days?"

He says it with a smile and nudges my shoulder. It's become an inside joke now, which takes the sting out even if he really is using it to check in.

"I'm sleeping pretty well. I like staying here at Oak Moss. I leave the windows open and don't even need the AC at night."

"You find a meeting over here you like?" He keeps his hand on my shoulder. "You have your place in New Orleans, but while you're here for the summer, I want you to have your home away from home."

"I found one off Folly that's been a good fit for me. And Helen and I touch base at least a few times a week, so all is well."

The two-year chip is still in my back pocket, warm from an hour of sitting on it at my grandfather's table. A man who fixes air conditioners for a living put it in my hand at seven this morning in a church hall off Folly where not one person knows my last name. I drove straight here with it and said nothing to anybody, and I intend to keep it that way, because it is the only thing this entire year has handed me that nobody decided to give me first.

"Good. That's good." He nods like I passed something. "You need money? I can put a little in your account. Your sister said you need a new vehicle."

"I'm okay. I've got it. And my Cruiser is perfect. She's just jealous."

"You eating? You look thin."

"I'm eating, Daddy."

He’s not wrong to check in. I know that now. It’s what he does with the answer that matters.

He pulls me in against his chest. He smells like coffee and the same aftershave my whole life.

"We can finally put all this behind us now," he says into my hair.

"Yes, sir." My voice holds, even as a lump rises in my throat. "Thank you, Daddy."

I get the door open and climb up. He shuts it for me, steps back, and slaps the roof twice. I back out into the bright noon light with his pride and his worry, just like any daughter.

The box fan roars behind us, pushing hot air out the doorway and across the back steps where Libba and I sit with our knees pulled up. The yard's gone blue with dusk. Somewhere down Rutledge Avenue, a dog won't quit barking.

I get through the easement update in about four sentences before Libba grabs my wrist.

"He agreed to putting Oak Moss into a conservation trust?" She's up on her knees now, one foot in the flower bed. "Like, he can never undo it, no one can? It can never be developed."

"Yep."

"And all because of what you found, and that you didn't back down. You're a badass, sister. Damn."

"Well, there were several layers here, but I'll take credit for being the catalyst."

"No. Because of you." She shakes my arm like she's trying to wake me. "You saved the property that is Mom. That's forever. That's your grandkids' grandkids and the marsh and the whole thing. That's you. Say it. Say I did that."

I laugh, and it comes out easier than anything has all day. "I did that."

"You absolutely did." She flops back against the step, grinning at the sky. "God. I want to call somebody. I want to buy a billboard. My twin sister is a fucking rockstar."

For a second I let it be that simple, just the win with no stone under it, my sister loud and proud on a hot step for the exact right reason. Then the fan hums and Libba goes still, which is what she does right before she says a thing she has been holding on to.

"So." She picks at a splinter on the step. "The version everybody has, where you smashed it and then had to fix it." She doesn't look at me. "You gonna let that just be the narrative, like, forever?"