“What? You didn’t flirt with him?” She squints at me. “Of course you didn’t. So what gives?”
I bite the inside of my cheek before answering, “Nothing.” Heart in my throat, the last thing I’m going to do this morning is discuss anything personal with her.
“Okay,” she says easily. She wipes the corners of her mouth with her fingers, her toast finished. At the sound of Snowflake’s barks and the front door closing, we both turn in the direction of the foyer. Snow’s tough-girl woofs nearly drown out the soft voice trying to calm her. The pitch grows even louder as I picture Snow herding the new arrival toward the kitchen. Given the circumstance I’ve found myself in this morning, there’s only one person it could be.
“Ack!” my other half sister, Amber, shouts when she finds Dixie and me. She releases the handle on her suitcase, her hand flying to her chest. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“Hi,” I say.
“Fucking hell, Aunt Sally,” Dixie mutters under her breath.
Snow, seeing the three of us in strained but quiet compliance, turns on her paws and leaves us alone.
Amber is my dad’s oldest daughter by a few months. Growing up, she and Dixie sometimes ganged up on me, but it wasn’t because of any camaraderie. They did it because I had Dad all the time and they didn’t. Like it was my fault he fell in love with my mom and not theirs. I tried to play peacemaker up until they turned eighteen. After that they visited for only a week here or there and usually separately. Looking at them both now, I understand why they’d harbor ill feelings toward me, but how dumb of them not to love and support each other.
“Surprise,” I add. “Looks like you got a plane ticket and house key in the mail, too.”
Amber closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She focuses her blue gaze on me when she says, “You guys are here to house-sit for the summer?”
I nod. “Apparentl
y Aunt Sally wanted us all together again.” It’s been years since the three of us have been under this roof at the same time. We didn’t talk much to one another that summer. I remember lots of glares and sighs of dislike. Even so, I’d been grateful for the distraction. I didn’t want to be home in Wisconsin between my freshman and sophomore years at college.
Amber toes the side of her bag. “No offense, but this really isn’t what I signed up for.”
“You could turn right around and go home,” Dixie suggests.
“Or you could.” Amber snaps back.
“Can’t.”
“Me either.”
Why can’t they? I swallow my curiosity, knowing they won’t appreciate it. Dixie especially. Amber’s gotten a little more pleasant as we’ve grown older, so maybe I’ll question her when we’re alone. I study her now. If you ask me, even angry and disheveled, she’s the prettiest of us. She’s got our dad’s light hair, too, but her mom is a redhead, so it’s a beautiful shade of strawberry-blond, and her eyes are a deeper blue than Dixie’s and mine. But she’s thinner than the last time I saw her, and paler, too. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says, sounding defensive. Or maybe I am, but I hear a silent Why wouldn’t I be? in her reply. Then she takes a seat next to me as if staking her own claim to the place.
Silent tension fills the room. It’s so thick it’s a miracle the three of us are still breathing.
The three of us.
My aunt obviously gathered us here for a reason. She’s always wanted us to be close, but we’re adults now, and that decision isn’t hers to make. I’ve wished it to be. God, after the accident, I wished for it so hard. But I finally accepted it’s one of those things that will always stay just out of reach.
Dixie starts opening cupboards. “The three of us under one roof for the summer. Holy shit, I need a drink. Where’s the liquor cabinet?”
“I don’t think there is one.” My stomach churns at the idea of her drinking this early, but she can do what she wants.
“Jackpot!” She holds up a bottle of vodka like a trophy. “Sally loves a Bloody Mary with brunch, so”—she opens the fridge—“Hallelujah, there is a God. I’ve got all the ingredients I need.”
Amber and I silently watch her mix the cocktail. She moves efficiently, like she’s done this a thousand times. She has. “Are you still bartending?” I ask.
“I quit to come here.”
“Meaning…” Amber trails off.
“Meaning I need to find a J-O-B while I pursue my music career. Aunt Sally said I could stay as long as I need to.”
“That’s great,” I say. Music has been a dream of Dixie’s for a long time.