“But how would that work with the appraisal? Wouldn’t the bank have a problem with overpaying?” she asked.
Rhiannon pinched the bridge of her nose and dropped her head against the backrest. “That’s why we make the deal contingent on the appraisal. Don’t worry. I’m looking out for you guys. There’s no way I’m going to let you get screwed, okay?”
When she’d finally soothed their concerns, Rhiannon cut the engine and bolted for the house via the open garage.
“Honey, I’m home,” Rhiannon called as she walked in, shaking o the rain.
Following the smell of simmering black beans, she found her mom in the kitchen. She wrapped her slender arms around the short, curvy woman.
“Hi, Mami,” she said before kissing the top of her head and stealing a fried plantain chip o the plate, burning the roof of her mouth as payment for not waiting.
“Hola, mi amor,” her mom replied, shooing her away from nosing around in the pots. “How was your day? Your cousin told me you found them a house way nicer than they thought they could a ord.”
“It’s gorgeous, Mami. I really hope they get it,” she replied before diving into details about the house as she pulled o her wet shoes.
When her dad joined them, a short stocky man with a bald head, he hugged her and asked about the mold.
“Luis, you didn’t really tell her to lie about the mold, did you?” her mother snapped, whirling around from the stove with a wooden spoon in her hand like she was ready to weaponize it against them.
He waved her away. “It’s not lying, Sandra. She found a black spot. That’s a fact. That spot was near the pipes. That’s
also a fact. She drew a conclusion that can be investigated should they choose to risk getting a home inspection that’s going to stick to the house for six months,” he explained with a shrug.
Her mother shook her head. “That’s playing dirty,” she said, unmoved by this argument.
Rhiannon tried her best to see it the way her dad did and not worry that she’d made the wrong move.
“Por favor, don’t be naive. That’s how everyone plays.
Everyone that wants to be successful, anyway,” he added.
“I’m proud of you,” he said, turning to Rhiannon. “You’re a chip o the old block and you’re going to do so great at this.”
She smiled, her chest swelling with pride. All she ever wanted was to make her parents proud. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for them. The encouragement made her want to work that much harder.
When Terry walked into the kitchen, her stomach sank.
The short, curvy girl related to her only by law and misfortune stomped into the room, stopping all conversation.
“Is dinner ready?” she grumbled without addressing anyone in the room.
“Hi to you too,” her dad replied. “Oh, how was my day?
Lovely, thank you for asking. You know this retired thing is pretty great. I spent three hours tinkering in the garage to my heart’s content. How are you? Did you have a good day at work?”
Rhiannon stifled a laugh as her sister rolled her eyes at them and started lifting lids to see what was cooking.
Terry was ten years older than her, but she acted more like the twenty-three-year old than she did. Actually, she acted more like a three-year-old. They’d never gotten along
a single day in their lives, and for a long time, Rhiannon pretended she was an only child.
“Chicken again?” Terry complained, her dark eyes peering into the oven. “Gross.”
“You know you can try eating at your own apartment instead of criticizing what Mami made,” Rhiannon snapped, her good mood completely extinguished.
“That’s cute coming from you,” she said with a chuckle.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rhiannon jumped to her feet and towered over her, exploiting all five inches of her height advantage. She regretted opting for flats that morning.