Tossing the computer bag strap over her shoulder, she passed the backpacks to their rightful owners, the weight of Tio’s bag almost taking her down. Sam reached past her to grab her suitcase, and she gave him a smile of thanks.
“I thought you said no computers.” Ty frowned at the case resting against her hip.
“This is just the bag,” Jules explained. “And instead of a laptop, it holds all our brand-new paperwork, plus”—she dug out a key ring and dangled it in front of him—“the house keys.”
Ty snatched the keys from her hand and ran to the porch steps, Tio close behind.
“Careful!” she called out, cringing as their shoes clomped noisily on the aged wood. “That doesn’t look too stable.” To her surprise, neither boy fell through the porch floor as they grappled to see who would be first inside the house. After watching to make sure the porch could hold her brothers, Dee made her careful way up the steps after them.
Sam kept pace with Jules, and she turned to him with a smile that was only partially forced. Dilapidated as it was, the house was theirs—hers and her family’s. This had always been her dream, and she wasn’t going to let a few loose shingles ruin the moment. “Ready to see the inside?”
His doubtful look was enough to make her laugh. Always-conscientious Dee had closed the door behind her when she entered the house, so Jules grabbed the doorknob. Straightening her shoulders, she patted the laptop bag holding their new identities and pushed open the door. The interior was dim after the bright, late-morning sunshine, and the kids’ excited voices echoed off the walls deep inside the house.
Taking a long, slow breath, Jules stepped into their new life.
The house was a wreck—and yet gorgeous at the same time. Jules took a step farther into the entry and tripped when her toe caught on an uneven floorboard. Unbalanced, she grabbed the ornate railing that edged the staircase, steadying herself. Voices and alarmingly loud squeaks from overhead told Jules that the three younger kids had made their way upstairs.
The dated wallpaper was peeling and gouged in spots, revealing sections of an even-more-dated pattern. Cobwebs and dust covered every surface, and dead leaves and corpses of miller moths were piled in corners. Through a wide, arched doorway, she could see what was most likely a living room, although the age of the house made her want to refer to it as a parlor. Living rooms were in modern homes, places for televisions and wall-to-wall carpet. This looked more like a room where they’d gather around the fireplace and knit.
Jules snorted. She’d never held knitting needles in her life. Glancing at her brother’s impassive face, she quickly sobered. “What do you think, Sam-I-Am?”
Instead of answering, he made his way down the hall, silently glancing through doorways as they passed a wood-paneled, shelf-lined room that Jules mentally dubbed “the library,” a bathroom with an honest-to-God claw-foot tub, and a room she assumed was the dining room, judging by its proximity to the kitchen.
She followed Sam into the expansive room that bore no resemblance to her apartment’s tiny galley kitchen. There were numerous cupboards, although several of the doors were hanging cockeyed or missing altogether. To her relief, the appliances, as ancient as they appeared, did not require firewood or hand cranking or whatever else century-old appliances had needed to operate. The room was large enough to hold a good-sized table and chairs.
Her attention left the worn counters as she focused on Sam. “We can fix it up.” Pushing away the doubting voices in her head that were screaming at her, telling her that she had no clue how to even start, Jules tried to fake optimism. “A little paint, some…um, nails? It’ll be like…well, maybe not new exactly, but better. Definitely better.”
“JuJu.” To her surprise, the corners of Sam’s mouth were twitching up again. “It’s p-perfect.”
No amount of fake cheer could keep her forehead from wrinkling in confusion as she glanced around the battered kitchen. “Perfect?”
“Yeah.” His smile grew, loosening the permanent knot in her stomach just a little. “Come on. We’d b-b-better get upst-st-st…up there b-before the kids claim the g-g-good b-bedrooms.”
She couldn’t stop herself. Rushing forward, she caught her brother in a hug. As soon as she felt him stiffen in her hold, she released him. “You’re the best, Sam-I-Am.”
His face flushed, he motioned her toward the hallway. “Yeah, yeah.”
There really were no “good” bedrooms. The upstairs was chopped into oddly shaped spaces with no apparent rhyme or reason. Several had slanted ceilings following the angle of the roof, creating areas where Jules, as petite as she was, couldn’t even stand upright. What they lacked in quality and size, however, they made up for in quantity. She counted six rooms—but no second-floor bathrooms, to her dismay. Sam followed the twins’ voices down the hall, disappearing into one room as Dee popped out of another and ran toward Jules.