Hook, Line, and Sinker (Bellinger Sisters #2)(16)

Her grandmother flushed with pleasure. “Well, then. Come in, come in.”

The apartment had changed drastically since the last time Hannah was there. Gone was the outdated furniture, the combined scents of lemon cleaner and must that left a sense of solitude hanging in the air. Now it smelled fresh. Sunflowers sat in the center of a new dining-room table, and there was no longer a plastic protector on the couch. “Wow.” Hannah set her tote bag on the floor and unzipped her Storm Born windbreaker, shrugging it off to hang on the peg. “Let me guess. Piper had something to do with this?”

“You guessed it.” Opal clasped her hands near her waist, her expression pleased and prideful as she scanned the new-and-improved living space. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Affection for her sister wiggled its way in next to Hannah’s guilt but did nothing to eclipse it. Over the last seven months, she’d spoken to Opal only a handful of times on the phone. She’d sent a card at Christmas. It wasn’t that she didn’t adore the woman. They got along very well. She’d made Opal a Woodstock-themed playlist last summer, and they’d totally bonded over it. Even now, the welcoming vibes of the apartment wrapped around Hannah and warmed her.

It was when the stories about her father—Opal’s only son—inevitably started rolling that Hannah got uncomfortable.

Hannah flat out couldn’t remember him. She’d been two years old when the king crab fisherman had been sucked to the bottom of the Bering Sea. Piper could remember his laugh, his energy, but Hannah’s mind conjured nothing. No melancholia, no affection or nostalgia.

For Piper, restoring Henry’s bar had been a journey of learning about herself and connecting with the memory of Henry.

For Hannah, it was about . . . supporting Piper on that journey.

Of course, seeing the finished product after weeks of manual labor had been satisfying, especially when they changed the name to Cross and Daughters, but the coming-full-circle feeling never happened for Hannah. So whenever she came to see Opal and her grandmother brought out pictures of Henry, or stories were told about him over the phone, Hannah started to wonder if her emotions were stunted. She could cry over a Heartless Bastards song, but her own father got nothing from her?

Hannah joined Opal on the new indigo-colored couch and cupped her knees through her jeans. “I’m actually in town because the production company I work for is shooting a short film. Kind of a heartbreaking art house piece.”

“A movie?” Opal winced. “In Westport? I can’t imagine people being too thrilled with the disruption.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I thought of that. We’re giving as many background parts and walk-on roles as we can. Once the locals realized they might be in a movie, it was smooth sailing.”

With a sound of delight, Opal slapped her thigh. “That was your idea?”

Hannah fluffed her ponytail. “Yes, ma’am. I made my director think it was his idea to add locals for authenticity. It’s a good thing I don’t use my powers for evil, or everyone would be in big trouble.”

It would be fantastic if she could use her powers to move ahead in her career, too, wouldn’t it? Greasing the production wheels was easy for her. There were no personal stakes. No risk. Applying herself to music coordinating was scarier. Because it mattered.

A great deal.

Opal laughed, reached over to squeeze Hannah’s wrist. “Oh, sweetie, I’ve missed your spunk.”

The sound of a key turning in the lock made Hannah whip around, and Opal clapped happily. Piper was only halfway through the door when Hannah launched herself over the back of the new couch and plowed into her sister, tension she’d hardly been aware of seeping from her pores. Hugging Piper was like walking into a room filled with your best memories. Her sheer-sleeved romper, impractical heels, and expensive perfume made Hannah feel like they were back in Bel-Air, sitting on the floor of Piper’s room, sorting her jewelry collection.

They hopped in a happy circle, laughing, while Opal fumbled with her phone, trying and failing to open her camera app.

“You’re here.” Piper sniffed, squeezing Hannah tightly. “My perfect, beautiful, hippie-hearted little sister. How dare you make me miss you this much?”

“I could say the same to you,” Hannah said, voice muffled by her sister’s shoulder.

The sisters pulled back, wiping their faces in very different manners. Hannah swiped for efficiency, while Piper dragged a careful pinkie in a perfect U shape to repair her eyeliner. Arm in arm, they moved around the couch and sat down plastered up against each other. “So when are you moving here permanently?” Piper asked, her tone still slightly watery. “Like . . . tomorrow. Right?”

Hannah sighed, resting her head on the back of the couch. “Part of me doesn’t hate that idea. Get my job back at Disc N Dat. Haunt the guest room at your house forever”—she poked at a sequin in Piper’s bodice—“but LA is keeping me, I’m afraid. It’s where my dream career awaits.”

Piper stroked her hair. “Have you made any headway on that?”

“Imminently . . .” Hannah responded, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I think.”

Opal leaned forward. “Dream career?”

“Yes.” Hannah sat up straighter but kept her side pressed to Piper’s. “Movie soundtracks. The making of them.”