“I missed you.”
“You weren’t supposed to come until tomorrow.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Her mother hugged her again. “It doesn’t matter as long as you’re home. It’s been too long.”
“You saw me at Christmas.” Chantelle broke their embrace.
“I still say that’s too long.” She pushed her daughter’s hair back behind her shoulders. “You cut your hair?”
Chantelle flipped her hair to one side. It was still below her shoulders, but her dark brown hair didn’t cover her back as it used to. “You don’t like it?” She batted her eyelashes.
Her mother laughed. “You little jokester. I’ll… just have to get used to it. Come inside.” Her mother took her hand and directed her into the living room. “You must be hungry.”
Dropping her purse on the couch, she followed her mother to the kitchen. She heard the whir of the range hood fan over the stove, along with the radio playing in the background. It was rare for her mother not to listen to music when cooking. The genres ranged from Motown to country songs.
Sitting on the barstool at the counter, Chantelle rested her chin inside her palm. She eyed the ceramic cookie jar for a moment but denied the urge to sneak one before dinner. Her stomach growled, wanting to taste her mother’s spaghetti.
“I baked fresh cookies about an hour ago,” her mother said.
“I don’t want a cookie… at least not now.”
Her mother giggled. “How are you, sweetie?”
“Mom, we talked a few days ago.”
Her mother reached for her hands over the kitchen island. “It’s different now that you’re home.” For a moment, her mother’s gaze lowered. “Did you visit him yet?”
Chantelle swallowed. “No, I came straight here. I’ll visit before I leave. I promise.”
Three years. That’s how long it had been since her father had passed. A heart attack claimed his life at fifty-eight, and her heart broke when her mother called with the news. She returned home the next day. Chantelle had hugged her mother tight that mournful day and held her hand during the entire memorial service.
“Knock knock,” a baritone voice said.
Chantelle pushed the hurtful memories away to see her fraternal twin brother. By two minutes and five seconds, he was the oldest. Grant walked into the kitchen’s doorway. His eyes widened for a moment, but then he opened his arms long enough for her to jump into his embrace.
He kissed her cheek before setting her down to her feet. “Are you eating?”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Her mother added.
“You’re early?” Grant’s jaw tensed.
“Yes.” Chantelle smoothed down her clothes. Was he not happy to see her? She parted her lips to say more, but then Grant’s wife trailed in behind him.
“Chantelle!” Elise shrieked.
Squealing along with her sister-in-law, Chantelle hugged her back.
“I love your hair!” Elise said, grinning from ear to ear. Her coal eyes sparkled.
“Not as much as I love your dress.” Chantelle replied with her hands on her hips. “You loo
k incredible.”
Elise posed for a second in her floral sundress before laughing aloud.
“Listen, sis.” Grant interrupted. “I need to—”