Between Sisters

Another dramatic pause. “I’m gonna forget I heard that tone in your voice. ”

“Cut the accent, Mama. It’s me. I know you were born in Detroit. Joan Jojovitch is the name on your birth certificate. ”

“Now you’re just being rude. You always were a prickly child. ”

Meghann didn’t know what to say. The last place in the world she wanted to go was to her mother’s, and yet being studiously noninvited rankled her. “Well. Good luck. ”

“It’s a big break for me. ”

For me. Mama’s favorite words. “You better get a good night’s sleep before the magazine shoot. ”

“That’s the God’s honest truth. ” Mama exhaled again. “Maybe y’all could come down later in the year. When I’m not so busy. Claire, too. ”

“Sure. Bye, Mama. ”

Meghann hung up the phone and sat there in her too-quiet home. She called Elizabeth, got the answering machine, and left a quick message. Then she hung up.

What now? She had no idea.

For the next hour, she paced the apartment, trying to formulate a plan that made sense.

The phone rang. She dived for it, hoping it was Elizabeth. “Hello?”

“Hi, Meg. ”

“Claire? This is a nice surprise. ” And for once it was. She sat down. “I talked to Mama today. You won’t believe this. She’s doing—”

“I’m getting married. ”

“—Shakespeare in—married?”

“I’ve never been so happy, Meg. I know it’s crazy, but that’s love, I guess. ”

“Who are you marrying?”

“Bobby Jack Austin. ”

“I’ve never even heard his name. ” Not since Hee Haw went off the air, anyway.

“I met him ten days ago in Chelan. I know what you’re going to say, but—”

“Ten days ago. You have sex with men you just met, Claire. Sometimes you even sneak away for a wild weekend. What you don’t do is marry them. ”

“I’m in love, Meg. Please don’t ruin it for me. ”

Meg wanted to give advice so badly she had to curl her hands into fists. “What does he do for a living?”

“He’s a singer/songwriter. You should hear him, Meg. He sounds like an angel. He was singing in Cowboy Bob’s Western Roundup when I first saw him. My heart stopped for a second. Have you ever felt that way?”

Before Meghann could answer, Claire went on, “He’s a ski instructor in Aspen in the winter and he travels around in the summer, playing his music. He’s two years older than I am, and he’s so good-looking you won’t believe it. Better than Brad Pitt, I kid you not. He’s going to be a star. ”

Meghann let it all soak in. Her sister was marrying a thirty-seven-year-old ski bum who dreamed of being a Country and Western singer. And the best gig he could get was Cowboy Bob’s in Nowheresville.

“Don’t be yourself, Me

g,” Claire said evenly when the pause had gone on too long.

“Does he know what the campground is worth? Will he sign a prenuptial agreement?”