“If I find a direction, I’ll look into more online schools. Maybe a trade school.”

Austin set his phone aside. “I’ve been thinking about trade school.”

That was a surprise. “What kind?”

He thumbed toward the window. “Do you know what those heavy-machine operators make? I looked it up.”

“If it’s that good, maybe I should look into it.” She was only half joking.

Austin frowned. “You’re a girl.”

Mallory nudged her brother with her elbow. “Hey.”

“Seriously, do you see any girls out there?”

Now that he mentioned it . . .

“That doesn’t mean a woman can’t do the job.” Mallory was the liberal free thinker in the family.

“Didn’t say can’t,” Austin talked around his food. “It’s dirty and greasy. Not something I see you doing,” he told Mallory.

“I see Parker doing it,” Mallory said.

“Me? Why me?”

“You could see Colin all day, every day.” Mallory and Austin exchanged smiles.

“What are you talking about?” Parker glanced at Erin for support. All she found was a sideways glance.

Austin rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon. It’s obvious you’re into him.”

And here she thought she’d been hiding her attraction.

Mallory pointed her fork in her direction. “Just talking about him and you’re blushing.”

Austin chewed his food with his mouth half-open. “The flowers are a pretty good sign it’s not just you,” he told her.

Parker glanced at the flowers and back to Erin.

“Don’t look at me.”

“Fine. He has his shit together and he isn’t married.”

Mallory snickered. “You’re leaving out the good-looking part.”

“And tall,” Erin added.

“Tall, good-looking, has a job . . . So when are you going out?” Mallory asked.

Parker reached for her wine. “Aren’t we jumping here?”

“No.” Austin shoved more food in.

“We’re not there yet. He hasn’t asked.”

“So ask him,” Mallory suggested.

Now Erin chimed in. “No . . . let him ask you. It’s better that way.”

“Archaic tradition. Waiting on a man to ask you out, or asking you to marry him . . . any of that sets women back centuries.”

Austin shook his head. “Decades maybe. A century, arguably . . . but not more than one.”

“I’m glad your history class is sticking. Maybe that should be your major in college.” Parker tried to move the conversation off of her and Colin and back to school.

“Nawh, I like the idea of trade school.”

“Mom and Dad wanted us to get a degree from a university,” Mallory interjected.

“Mom and Dad wanted us to have the option. If Austin wants to go to a trade school and leave with an education that can make him a living, that’s all any of us can ask for.”

“A lot of people out there have a college degree who aren’t using it for their employment,” Erin added.

“I guess.” Mallory took another bite.

“What about you, Erin? Do you have a degree?” Austin asked.

She sipped her wine. “A bachelor’s degree in communications and liberal arts.”

“Where did you graduate from?” Parker asked.

“Small college, back east.”

“I thought you were from Washington State,” Mallory pointed out.

She set her glass down. “A lot of people move away for college.”

Austin reached across the table, grabbed the salt and pepper. “I’m going to ask Keith to show me how to run his loader. Half the guys out there own their own equipment. Did you know that?”

And the conversation moved on to Austin’s new passion.

Parker found herself smiling, laughing, and enjoying her brother and sister more during that meal than she had in months. Maybe it was because she had decided to take Nora’s advice and let go of some of her work stress. Or maybe it was the comfort food in her stomach and the reality that they were talking about their parents without the empty pit that often gnawed in her stomach with the loss of them. Whatever the reason, Parker enjoyed the moment and dedicated it to memory.

An hour later, once the dishes were done and Mallory and Austin were off in their corners of the house, Erin and Parker sat outside on the porch and watched what remained of the sunset. Scout bounded around the yard, happy with his freedom. They sipped the rest of the wine and chatted.

“I consider myself the lucky one,” she told Erin. “I can remember sitting on this porch with my mom watching the sunset. I didn’t appreciate it until I was in college and home that summer before the accident.”

“I don’t know how you managed. You were only twenty-four?”

“Yeah. Mallory was just starting her senior year and Austin wasn’t even driving yet.”

“So young.”

Sorrow started seeping back in, a feeling Parker didn’t want to address, so she shifted the conversation off of her. “What about you? Are you close with your parents?”

Erin hid behind her wineglass. “Not that close. We, ah . . . we talk once in a while.” She looked away.

Yeah . . . there definitely was something Erin wasn’t telling her. She’d let it go for now, and hopefully Erin would trust her enough to share more soon.

“What about your job hunt? Find anything yet?”

Her eyes lit up. “Actually I may have found work online.”

“What do you mean?”

“I studied journalism in college and never did anything with it—”

“Wait, I thought you said you have a communications degree,” Parker interrupted her.

Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again. “Right. Which included journalism.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I found some editorial work online. Something I might be able to build.”

“That sounds promising.”

“Right now it’s articles, but there is a lot of demand for fiction editors.”

“As in books?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You wouldn’t happen to have any editing skills, would you?”

“I wish. I’m lost without my Word program.”

“You need to be able to see what Word doesn’t. It’s perfect for me. I can work from home, enjoy the quiet . . .”

“When the trucks aren’t here.”

“They won’t be here forever.”

“I keep telling myself that.” Parker emptied her wineglass and set it aside.

The sound of an owl called from a nearby oak tree.

Parker smiled.

“You know what I find strange?” Parker asked.

“What?”

“That you and I aren’t even thirty and we’re sitting on a porch, drinking wine, and watching the weather like we’re in our sixties.”

“It’s called maturity. We don’t have to hang out in a bar to have a good time.” Erin held her glass with both hands.

Parker turned to look at her new friend. “See . . . I understand why I’m the way I am. Raising my siblings for the last two years, keeping my parents’ life together. But how is it that you’re so mature? Even my friends that are my age that are married still have a wildness that makes them want to go out on Saturday nights and find a weekend concert venue in the desert during the summer. Or are you naturally an introvert?”