Usually Isabelle included Mom and Dad on the phone when she had to make big decisions, but this time she didn't. Isabelle sat on the couch between Ian and me, putting her laptop on the coffee table in front of us.
"Do you think she just wants to torture us?" my brother asked in a mocking whisper, even though Isabelle could easily hear him.
"Unfortunately, I think it's her way of expressing love, by asking for our help in anything," I said.
"Exactly," my sister replied, winking at me. "And this isn't hard. I'm trying to compile a group of pictures. I want to surprise Mom and Dad with a slideshow."
"That explains why they're not on the phone," Ian said.
"I want to thank them for everything they did for us. A friend had a slideshow at her wedding, and I thought it was a nice thing to do."
"Okay. We can do this," I said.
She clicked on the laptop, and a picture of us as kids came up. "All you have to do is tell me if you like the picture or not."
Ian nodded.
"Why do you even have these?" I wondered after she showed us a dozen pictures. She had everything from when we were kids up until this year. We were as close as ever. Josie was the oldest and Ian the youngest. At thirty-one, I was in the middle.
"Oh, I've asked almost everyone I know to send me pictures, and well, you know, Facebook is also a good source."
I was relieved that my sister hadn’t included any pictures of me with Lina. We'd been together for many years, so finding pictures of me without her was not easy.
"Okay, so this wasn’t too terrible," Ian said once we finished. "Please don't ask my opinion again on who should sit at what table."
Isabelle rolled her eyes. "No, you made your opinion clear on the topic last time. Don't worry. I've asked Mom and Dad to take care of everyone back home. They'll know who wants to sit with whom. And they know all our mutual friends. So I'm taking care of them. You successfully managed to weasel your way out of that task."
“We didn't weasel our way out. It's just not the best use of our time," I said with a grin.
Isabelle got up from the couch, placing her hands on her hips. "Why are you so grumpy lately?"
She looked at our brother. "Ian, fess up. Is he having any fun or spending all his time focusing on project Z?"
Ian and I were running a software company together, Gallagher Solutions. We employed forty people and specialized in cloud solutions for midsize companies. Currently, we were working on one of our most ambitious projects. We’d nicknamed it project Z. It was software for an insurance model for people working in weather-dependent industries. My parents operated a ski lift back in Montana, and the few years when it didn't snow enough, we barely made ends meet. We only managed to get through the season out of the kindness of some friends. I had no idea what would have happened if they hadn't helped. I was determined to help people in similar situations so they’d have some recourse.
The insurance model wasn’t meant for big natural disasters—those were already sufficiently covered. We were aiming to find a solution for small niches that were currently not covered by insurance models. I got the idea when I researched the organization running the Innovator of the Year competition. Ian and I knew how to build the software, but winning the competition would bring us the right partners to implement the software nationwide. Project Z wasn’t just about money. It was personal.
"Oh, he's having plenty of fun," he answered. "I don't think you want to know all the details, sister dearest."
Isabelle mimicked plugging her fingers in her ears and shaking her head. "No, no, you're right. I don't need to know the details. I'm happy to know he's not spending all his time cooped up in the office."
I got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen island to pour myself a glass of water. "I want to win the competition, that's all. That requires some extra work for a few months. I don't mind."
"He's not cooped up in his office all the time. He has plenty of fun," Ian repeated.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Isabelle fixed her gaze on me. After a few seconds, she said, “By the way, I wanted to talk to you about something—”
The doorbell rang, interrupting her.
“Saved by the bell,” Ian exclaimed. “You looked like you were about to lecture him, sis.”
“I was,” Isabelle confirmed. “And don’t think I’ll forget about it just because we have company.”
I grinned at my sister. “That didn’t even cross my mind.”
Ryker, Cole, and Tess arrived together. Tess’s eyes bulged when she looked around the apartment.
“We haven’t started yet,” Isabelle said, sounding a bit embarrassed.
“She was too busy torturing us with wedding stuff.” Ian filled in everyone. Tess immediately lit up. She was helping Isabelle with the organization of it all too.
“Hey, don’t start with the wedding planning again,” Ryker warned, “or we’ll never start packing. I know how this goes.”
Tess grinned. “I’d get mad at you, brother, but you’re right.”
All the Winchesters were married or engaged, and Tess loved helping with planning. Out of the whole group, Ian and I were the only bachelors left, something she kept teasing us about.
“Okay, well, I tried to bring as much stuff in the living room as possible. I say we start by putting what’s on the floor in boxes and labeling them accordingly,” Isabelle said.
Ryker looked around. “Okay, I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff in this room, so I’m going to need detailed instructions.”
“You can start by actually putting together the boxes. I only had time to build two,” Isabelle said.
“I’m on it,” Ryker said.
“Thanks so much for coming. I know you’re all busy,” Isabelle added, and it was true. Ryker worked on Wall Street, Cole ran a real estate company with Josie’s husband, and Tess owned two lingerie stores with her sister Skye.
“Hey, family comes first,” Tess said. “By the way, is Josie coming too?”
“Yes. She texted that she’ll be here in half an hour,” Isabelle said.
Isabelle divided tasks among each of us. Ryker gave everyone a box, and we started shoving the stuff lying around in it.
Josie arrived a while later.
“Hey, why didn’t you bring my niece?” Isabelle said with a pout.
“She’s spending some quality time with her dad. And I’m much faster when she’s not with me.” Josie looked around, grimacing. She was a brilliant lawyer and an organizational genius.
Isabelle pointed at her. “Hey! It’s a process. Don’t judge.”
Josie laughed, holding her hands up in defense. “I didn’t say anything. I’m going to grab a box and see how far I can get tonight.”
Two hours later, the living room looked livable again.
“Are you taking the furniture too?” I asked, looking up and down at a huge bookshelf, already mentally disassembling it. Ian and I had helped Isabelle with the furniture when she moved from Montana to Philly for college and later to New York.