OFF LIMITS

Candace McKenna taped the last carton in her apartment and sighed. The job of packing up her small apartment had not taken a long time. Everything went swiftly into boxes…Clothes, shoes, kitchen utensils...

Leaving this apartment was easy even though she'd lived in it for six years. In two days time, Candace would be in Rosehill, Langford. She wasn’t crazy about the move, but her grandparents had sacrificed a decade of what should have been their much-deserved empty-nest years raising three grandchildren. After Gran’s fall last month, it was clear what Candace could do to pay them back at least in some small way.

Her phone rang. She paused to write on the box she'd been working on before scrambling to her feet and grabbing it from the bare kitchen counter. The new owners had been impressed by how well she’d kept the place up. Candace didn’t mention that the reason was because she’d spent most of her time at her ex boyfriend's place until they broke up months ago.

She glanced at the caller ID. It was her sister. “Hey, Michelle.”

“You’ll never, ever guess what I have to tell you.”

Candace wrinkled her nose. Seriously? No hello, Candace, how’s the packing going? How’s your stress level? Need any help? “Good news or bad?” she said instead.

“Good, fabulous, the best, but like I said, you’ll never guess.”

“You met a guy.”

“Oh.” Her sister sounded tremendously disappointed. “Well, yes. But not just a guy, this is the guy.”

Candace closed her eyes, dread and fear lifting their little heads inside her, trying to decide if they’d be needed or not. The guy, huh? What was this one in recovery from? Or wanted by the police for? Or down on his luck because of? “That’s great, Michelle.” she said.

“I am so excited. He’s amazing. What’s more, you’ll really like this one.”

“Where did you meet him?” A meat-market bar at closing time? A bus stop? In court?

“Habitat for Humanity.”

Candace turned from her kitchen counter to face the curtain-less window. “No kidding. I didn’t know you volunteered for them.”

“All part of Michelle’s New Improved Life. He’s straight, sober, responsible, an amazing man. Went to college, everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything you think is important.”

“Michelle, wow.” She actually started feeling hopeful, a huge change from how she usually felt about Michelle’s boyfriends, which generally ranked somewhere around despair. “How long have you known him?”

“Long time. A month. Maybe more.”

“Really.” Hey, Michelle even waited to tell Candace about this one, instead of jumping into I-met-someone-and-love-him after the first date. “This is terrific. I’m happy for you. What’s his name?”

“Nolan Carrington.”

Even that was normal. Not Spike or Screech, or that one guy who simply went by Dude. “Good name.”

“You’ll love him.” Michelle blew out a breath, which sounded like a storm blast through the phone. “Um, so, I just…Uh, how are things there?”

Candace’s eyes narrowed. Um, so, she just…what? What was she about to say before she stopped? “Fine. Nearly packed. Was there something else you were going to say?”

“Oh. Well. It’s just a little thing.” She laughed nervously.

No. Knowing Michelle, it was going to be a big thing. “Ye-e-es?”

“I wanted to tell you. We’re…moving in together.”

Uh-oh. Yellow alert. “In Gran and Grandad’s house?”

“It’s our house now, Candace.”

“I know, but it…” She gave up. Even though her grandparents sold the house to her, Michelle, and their brother, Andrew, when they moved to Langford, the place would always be theirs in her heart. “Okay, into our house?”

“Yes. I mean, of course you’ll have to say it’s okay.”

“When is he moving in?”

“Um…tomorrow.”

Orange alert. Waiting until the last second to tell Candace? Or did this guy wait until the last second to ask Michelle? “You’ve known him for a month? Isn't that…maybe…rushing things?”

“I know, it seems fast. But it’s also really practical.”

“Shared bedroom saves gas money?”

Another nervous laugh. “No. He, um, needed a place to live. So I thought this was an obvious solution. To help him out.”

“Ah.” Homeless guy. Super. Candace let her head bonk back against a cabinet so she was staring up at the smooth, white ceiling. Very uncomfortable position, but it fit the conversation. “Did he get evicted?”

“No, nothing like that. Just…between places, I guess.”

She guessed. “He’s paying half the expenses, utilities, tax, etc.?”

“Ye-es, Candace.” She sounded like an exasperated teenager. “He promised to share all expenses.”

“Did he promise in writing?”

Her sister scoffed. Candace bit her lip. Don’t push too hard. “What does he do?”

“Oh. Well…” Red alert. Candace closed her eyes wearily. Male stripper? Female impersonator? Drug dealer? “He… works in a security firm… Of sorts… but things aren't really going well at the moment.”

Even better. “How long has he—”

“Geez, Candace. I knew you’d do this. I’m a grown-up, remember? Twenty-six? And you’re not my mother.”

Oh, no. The last of Candace’s hope evaporated. Michelle went on the attack like that when she was feeling defensive. She had something to hide about this guy. Something Candace wouldn’t like. “Yes, it’s your life. But it’s also half my house.”

“I told you, Candace, he’s a great guy, not like the others.”

“Really.” Candace pulled her head up from the cabinet. “The last ones were ‘not like the others,’ too, except for one thing—they were just like the others.”

“Candace…”

She took a deep breath…She’d moved away from her beloved house and her beloved city partly because of the way she and Michelle got along. Or didn’t. That and a job opportunity managing luxury condos for a man who’d known their Grandad. “Okay, I’m sorry. You know I’m just being—”

“Smothering.”

“No, cautious. Can you blame me?” She kept her voice gentle. “Seriously? For all I know he’s planning to marry you and weasel you out of your half of the house, or take it over for…I don’t know, something bad. Invite creepy friends in at all hours who’ll trash the place or—”

“He’s not like that.”

“You said that about the last one. The ex-con who tried to steal the family silver.” She shoved herself away from the cabinet, stalked into the living room. Her sister didn’t just push her buttons; she hurled grenades and exploded them. In spite of their grandparents best efforts, Michelle had grown up wild like their mother.

Every time Michelle used poor judgment—or, more accurately, no judgment—Candace was catapulted back to the fear and bewilderment of her rocky first decade with Mom, before Gran and Grandad took three of them in and introduced them to foreign ideas like good nutrition and routine and stability.