Between Sisters

“I want ballet lessons, Mommy. Is that okay?”

Claire smiled. It occurred to her—one of those passing thoughts that carried a tiny sting—that she’d once wanted to be a ballerina, too. Meghann had encouraged her to dream that dream, even though there had been no money for lessons.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. There had been money for Mama’s dance lessons, but none for Claire’s.

Once, though, when Claire had been about six or seven, Meghann had arranged for a series of Saturday-morning lessons with a junior high friend of hers. Claire had never forgotten those few perfect mornings.

Her smile faded.

Alison was frowning at her, one cheek bunched up midbite. “Mommy? Ballet?”

“I wanted to be a ballerina once. Did you know that?”

“Nope. ”

“Unfortunately, I have feet the size of canoes. ”

Ali giggled. “Canoes are huge, Mommy. Your feet are just really big. ”

“Thanks. ” She laughed, too.

“How come you’re a worker bee if you wanted to be a ballerina?”

“Worker bee is what Grampa calls me. Really I’m an assistant manager. ”

It had happened a long time ago, her choosing this life. Like most of her decisions, she’d stumbled across it without paying much attention. First, she’d flunked out of Washington State University—one of the many party casualties of higher education. She hadn’t known then, of course, that Meghann was basically right. College gave a girl choices. Without a degree, or a dream, Claire had found herself back in Hayden. Originally, she’d meant to stay a month or so, then move to Kauai and learn to surf, but then Dad got bronchitis and was down for a month. Claire had stepped in to help him out. By the time her father was back on his feet and ready to resume his job, Claire had realized how much she loved this place. She was, in that and in so many things, her father’s daughter.

Like him, she loved this job; she was outside all day, rain or shine, working on whatever needed to be done. When she finished each chore, she saw tangible proof of her labor. There was something about these gorgeous sixteen acres along the river that filled her soul.

It didn’t surprise her that Meghann didn’t understand. Her sister, who valued education and money above everything, saw this place as a waste of time.

Claire tried not to let that condemnation matter. She knew her job wasn’t much in the great scheme of things, just managing a few campsites and a couple of cabins, but she never felt like a failure, never felt that her life was a disappointment.

Except when she talked to her sister.

THREE

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER, CLAIRE WAS READY TO LEAVE on vacation. She took a last pass through the tiny house, looking for anything forgotten or left undone, but everything was as it should be. The windows were locked, the dishwasher was empty, and all the perishables had been taken out of the fridge. She was straightening the shower curtain when she heard footsteps in the living room.

“What in the name of a frog’s butt are you still doing here?”

She smiled and backed out of the minuscule bathroom.

Her father stood in the living room. As always, he dwarfed the small space. Big and broad-shouldered, he made every room seem smaller by comparison. But it was his personality that was truly oversize.

She’d first met him when she was nine years old. She’d been small for her age, and so shy she only spoke to Meghann in those days. Dad had seemed larger than life when he stepped into their travel trailer. Well, he’d said as he looked down at her, you must be my daughter, Claire. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Let’s go home.

Home.

It was the word she’d waited for, dreamed of. It had taken her years—and more than a few tears—to realize that he hadn’t offered the same welcome to Meghann. By then, of course, by the time Claire understood the mistake, it was well past the time to rectify it.

“Hey, Dad. I was making sure everything was ready for you to move in. ”

His grin showed a row of Chiclet-white dentures. “You know damn well I ain’t moving in here. I like my mobile home. A man doesn’t need this much room. I got my fridge and my satellite TV. That’s all I need. ”

They’d been having this discussion ever since Claire had moved back to the property and Dad had given her use of the house. He swore up and down that the mobile home hidden in the trees was more than room enough for a fifty-six-year-old single man.

“But, Dad—”