Fixing Delilah Read Online Free

index finger to put her sister on pause. She wraps up quickly, but that doesn’t earn her any points with Aunt Rachel, who’s steaming against the counter with her arms folded over her chest.
    “Rachel, I told you last night,” Mom says, pulling out her earpiece and sashaying back into the conversation like we’re milling around the hors d’oeuvres table at a cocktail party. “If anything important comes up at the office, I have to make myself available.”
    “Burying your dead mother isn’t important?”
    “That’s not what I said.”
    “I can ask someone else to help if it’s too difficult to manage your schedule,” Rachel says.
    “Manage my schedule? Look, I realize that you can come and go wherever the wind blows, but my work is a little more—”
    “Important, right? Because catering for movie crews isn’t important? People need to eat, Claire.”
    “I was going to say structured.”
    “Structured? You don’t know anything about my work. You’ve never even been on a set, so how—”
    “Let’s not do this right now.” Mom grabs her purse, digging into the front pocket and producing the small tin where she keeps her Xanax. “We have a lot to sort through tonight. I have to finish unpacking and do a preliminary walk-through… call the funeral director… her friends…” She grabs a glass from the cupboard, fills it with tap water, and chases down a little white pill. “I haven’t even picked up groceries.”
    “I’ll go,” Rachel says. “Need anything specific? Milk? Toilet paper? Compassion, maybe? I’ll get a bunch. I probably have a coupon. You know how we unstructured people are about our coupons.”
    “I’m going with her,” I say. Both of them look at me like they forgot I was in the room, and before Mom can object, Aunt Rachel takes my hand and leads us out through the kitchen door.
    “I’m sorry,” Rachel says as we reverse down the long driveway and onto Maple Terrace. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let my sister upset me today, and I blew it in five minutes. The tarot cards told me to prepare for conflict. Why didn’t I see it coming?”
    “That’s just Mom’s way. I think it’s the assertiveness training she gets at work. ‘Close the deal’ and all that stuff.” I make air quotes around the deal phrase with my fingers.
    “That bad, huh?” Rachel asks.
    I shrug. “Pretty much.”
    “Here.” She fishes a miniature spray bottle from the glove box and gives it a few rigorous pumps. “Frankincense and orange oil,” she says. “To increase happiness and peace.”
    “Perfect. When we get back, could you, like, spray that directly on her?”
    “If you think it’ll help, Del. If you think it’ll help.”
    As Rachel navigates Red Falls’ “bustling” commercial hub, a few kids on bikes slow to check us out, waving as if we’re a parade float throwing candy. A woman in a purple apron chats with coffee-drinkers as she sweeps the sidewalk in front of a funky-looking café called Luna’s. The view of the sky over Main Street, sapphire blue, is interrupted only by a single banner suspended from Sweet Thing Chocolatier on the left side of the road to Bender’s Hardware on the right, announcing with many exclamation points (!!!) and Random Capitalizations:
Red Falls’ 50 th Annual Fourth of July Parade
And Sugarbush Festival!!!
July 4th!!
Featuring Log rolling, Pony rides,
Maple Sugar candy, Maple Cream, Maple fudge, and
our WORLD famous Maple Drizzlers!!!!

    We turn into the lot at Crasner’s, which has since my last visit expanded from a humble general store into a bona fide Food Dynasty, minus the burned-out d and Dy on the neon sign. As Rachel settles on a parking spot, I ask the question that’s weighed me down since we arrived in Vermont, made heavier now by my recollection of Sugarbush Festivals past.
    “Rachel, what happened that day at Papa’s funeral?”
    Rachel turns off the truck and unbuckles her seat belt, staring at the CRASNER’S FOO