Sisters Like Us

by Susan Mallery

  In an effort to both help and shame her daughter, Bunny regularly brought over batches of cookies she made in her apartment.

  “Oatmeal raisin,” Harper said. “That way I can say I’m getting my whole grains.”

  “Cookies don’t count, Mom.”

  “Says who?” She took a bite and sighed as the flavors settled on her tongue. Bunny might have unrealistic expectations for Harper, but the woman could bake like nobody’s business.

  She sipped her coffee and waited for the combination of sugar and caffeine to heal her. Then she turned to her daughter and said, “Okay, I’m braced. What’s up?”

  Becca had picked a peanut butter and a frosted sugar cookie. She put them on a napkin. “Great-Aunt Cheryl left me her car.” She looked up. “It’s in really great shape. Ramon said she’d taken good care of it and the tires are new. I know it’s a big deal, Mom, but I’m sixteen. Now you don’t have to worry about buying me a car.”

  “I wasn’t planning on buying you one,” Harper said automatically as she tried to process the information. A car? A car!

  A thousand thoughts crowded her head. Everything from “Really, you couldn’t have mentioned this before?” to wanting to yell at her ex-husband for not mentioning it when he and Becca got back from Grass Valley. A car? There would be insurance and upkeep and—

  “You don’t even have a license yet.”

  “I’m working on it. I’ve passed my class at school and I have my learner’s permit. I only need the practice hours. Lucas is helping with that. He’s a cop, Mom. You can trust him.”

  “Detective,” she corrected automatically. “Do you know what the insurance is going to cost? And gas?”

  “I’m going to help with that, I swear. I’ll get a job. You’ll see, Mom. It will be great. You won’t have to drive me anywhere.”

  A job? Becca was too young for all this to be happening. Only she wasn’t. She was, as she’d pointed out, sixteen, almost seventeen. She would be a senior in the fall and then she would be off to college. But a car.

  Harper thought about her monthly budget and nearly began to cry. Putting Becca on her insurance policy would save a little, but still, how was she going to pay for insurance? Even if her daughter did get a job, it wouldn’t be enough. She would have to talk to Terence about him kicking in something. Becca was his daughter, too.

  Becca’s phone chirped. She glanced at it, then back at her mom. “That’s the delivery service. They’re here.”

  Harper nearly fell off the stool. “The car is here now?”

  Becca raced to the front door, Jazz at her heels. “Uh-huh. Come see.”

  No wonder her daughter had been hovering, Harper thought grimly. She’d been trying to figure out how to break the news. Harper supposed she should be pleased that Becca hadn’t simply had the guy park it in the driveway and waited for her mother to notice.

  A large car carrier was parked in the middle of the street. A man was unchaining a pale blue Toyota Corolla. As she watched, he got in and backed it down the ramp before pulling it into the driveway, where Becca danced impatiently.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” her daughter asked, laughing as she spoke. “Ramon said all the paperwork is in the trunk. It just had an oil change a couple of weeks ago, so I won’t have to worry about that for a while.”

  Ramon, Great-Aunt Cheryl’s longtime boyfriend, had obviously done his best to make the car ready for Becca. If only he’d thought to call Harper and give her a heads-up.

  “What’s going on?” Bunny asked as she came around the side of the house. “What’s that? Did you sell your car?”

  “No. Great-Aunt Cheryl left this to Becca. It was just delivered.”

  Bunny looked delighted. “Dogs and a car. What did she leave you, dear? Nothing?”

  Harper refused to engage. No matter what Great-Aunt Cheryl had left or not left her, they had been friends and Harper would always treasure that.

  The man handed Becca the keys, then walked over to Harper. “You need to sign for delivery.”

  She scrawled her name. Becca opened the driver’s door and got behind the wheel, then jumped out and spun in a circle.

  “This is the best! I can’t wait to get my license and go driving.” She wrapped her arms around Jazz. “You’ll be my first passenger.”

  “Too bad Great-Aunt Cheryl didn’t think to leave money to pay for insurance,” Bunny said.

  “It will be fine,” Harper assured her. “At least this way I don’t have to worry about buying her a car.”

  Becca opened the trunk and pulled out a box. “Mom, this is for you. Ramon said there were a couple of things Great-Aunt Cheryl wanted you to have.”

  Harper did her best not to look smug as she took the good-sized box from her daughter.

  “What is it?” Bunny demanded.

  “I have no idea.” She turned to Becca. “You are not allowed to move that car one inch until it’s insured. Understood?”

  “I swear, Mom. I won’t drive it until you say it’s okay.” She continued to dance around the car, her phone in hand, taking pictures from every angle.

  Harper sighed, then went inside. Her mother followed.

  She set the box on the kitchen table and opened it. Inside were several smaller boxes, including one that got her heart beating faster.

  Bunny moved closer. “Is that...”

  “An Hermès Birkin bag? Yes, it is.” Not black. Great-Aunt Cheryl would never waste her time with a boring black bag. No, this one was orange. Harper read the card inside.

  “It’s a Togo Birkin bag,” she said, wondering if she sounded smug. “And still in beautiful condition.”

  Label-conscious Bunny looked as if she’d eaten a lemon. “That’s ridiculous. You have nothing to wear with that.”

  “I know. Even so, I plan to use it with everything.” She opened a smaller box and found three blue boxes with the magical phrase Tiffany & Co. on top. Her heart pounded a little faster.

  The first box contained a peach enamel and diamond bracelet. Bunny moved close and gasped. “That’s a Schlumberger bangle! Do you know what those cost?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “A lot!”

  The second box held a sea horse broach, also Schlumberger, according to a miffed Bunny. The last box revealed simple diamond studs, each the size of an M&M candy.

  While Bunny fingered the pin, Harper slipped on the bangle. It was heavy and unyielding and looked fabulous. She decided to wait on the earrings until she could see herself in a mirror.

  She picked up the last box. It was unmarked and flat. Inside were dozens of photographs, mostly of Great-Aunt Cheryl. They ranged from her nursing days during World War II to just a few years ago. Harper’s chest tightened as she looked through them. The bag and the jewelry were amazing, but these were the best gift of all.

  She would sort through them and make an album, she thought. Something special that—

  She found a handwritten note at the bottom of the box.

  Dear Harper,

  We all knew this day would come and here it is. I want you to have these things because I have always loved you. Remember to be brave, strong and happy. That’s what life is all about. And don’t you dare waste a second putting the old pictures in an album. You have better things to do with your time.

  Harper laughed, then felt her eyes burn with tears.

  “What did she say?” Bunny demanded, snatching the letter from her. She scanned the words, then handed the sheet back. “That car is going to be a problem.”

  “I don’t care. I’m letting her keep it.” Because that was what Great-Aunt Cheryl would have wanted.

  * * *

  “I’m nearly forty-two,” Harper said as she sat on the sofa in Stacey’s living room. “When am I going to stop being manipulated by Mom?”

  Stacey wasn’
t sure her sister wanted an answer, but decided to provide one anyway. “When you stop caring about what she thinks of you.”

  “You care, but you don’t let it interfere with your life. Not that I wouldn’t have let Becca keep the car, but I would have at least thought about it a little longer. Instead I reacted to Mom being bitchy about what Great-Aunt Cheryl left me. I can’t figure out if every family is twisted or just ours.”

  “I’m sure it’s all of them.”

  Harper laughed. “I hope you’re right. Okay, how’s it going with Ashton?”

  “Fine. He’s settling in nicely. It’s only been two days, but we have a routine. He has two classes to finish and he’s going to get a part-time job.”

  Her sister nodded. “Didn’t you say he’d been in foster care or living with a friend or something before he moved here?”

  “Foster care. Kit’s sister wouldn’t let him live with us, so we had to wait until he was eighteen and aged out of the system. We flew him out the next day.”

  “Does he have enough stuff?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Harper shrugged. “I don’t know much about foster families. On TV they’re usually awful. Does he have clothes and shoes and whatever else he needs?”

  “I asked and he said he was fine.”

  Harper’s expression turned pitying. “And you believed him?”

  “He has no reason to lie to me.”

  Her sister stood. “Pride, Stacey. Guilt. Shame. He’s a kid.”

  “He’s eighteen.”

  “He’s a kid.”

  Harper got up suddenly and walked down the hall before tapping on Ashton’s half-open door.

  “Come in.”

  She went inside. Stacey followed, not sure what she was going to do.

  “Hey, Ashton. I’m about to pry, so brace yourself. Can I see your suitcase?”

  He glanced from Harper to Stacey, then walked over to his closet and pulled out his ratty suitcase. As Stacey stared at it, she realized it was ridiculously small and it had contained everything he had in the world. She glanced at the battered computer on his desk. A computer that had to be at least four years old. The phrase her heart sank suddenly made too much sense.

  “Do you have paper?” Harper asked.

  He looked more intrigued than confused as he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a pad of paper. “Stacey got me a bunch of school supplies, so I’m good.”

  “Uh-huh.” Harper sat on the chair and started writing. “Underwear, socks.” She paused to glance at his feet. “Athletic shoes, sandals, jeans, shorts, T-shirts. Do you have a lightweight jacket? June can be cool and foggy by the beach.”

  Ashton tensed. “I’m good. I don’t need anything.”

  “So that’s a no.” She continued writing. “Deodorant, sunscreen.” She glanced at his face. “Razors or an electric shaver?”

  “I use disposable razors.”

  Harper turned to Stacey. “Let’s get him one of those nice shavers all the kids love. He can go scruffy and be irresistible to the girls.”

  Ashton flushed. “Aunt Harper, I’m fine.”

  “Just Harper, please, and don’t even try. I can be so bossy. I get it from my mother.” She put down her pen. “I’m thinking the mall first. Old Navy and Macy’s for clothes, then Target for toiletries.” She grinned. “I haven’t been shopping for a while, so I’m excited. Let’s go.”

  Ashton looked more uncomfortable than pleased. Stacey was right there with him. How could she not have noticed he needed pretty much everything and why hadn’t he told her when she asked if he was all right?

  Chapter Ten

  ONE TRIP TO the mall later, Ashton had everything a man his age could possibly need to get him through the summer and into the fall. Harper had been her usual thorough, maternal self. The shopping had gone quickly and easily and within a few minutes of them arriving at the first store, Ashton had been joking around with her and seemed at ease. Stacey knew that she should be grateful to her sister for her help, and she was. Her internal discomfort came more from a gnawing sense of inadequacy.

  How had Harper known Ashton hadn’t been forthcoming about his needs? How had she been able to figure out the situation so quickly and how had she known what to buy him? It wasn’t as if she had male children.

  Once again she heard her mother’s words in her head—the ones telling her she wasn’t normal. She glanced at the calendar counting up to the birth and tried to tell herself everything would be fine. The problem was, she knew it wouldn’t be fine at all. It would be a disaster. She was never meant to be a mother.

  She’d tried to tell Kit that—explaining how she loved her work so much and she’d never felt the need to be like everyone else. But he’d only laughed and kissed her, then he’d taken her to bed where she could experience normal in the best way possible.

  Kit would be a good father, she thought as she brewed herbal tea. Maybe that would be enough. He would be the main parent and she would be little more than a shadow figure. She could accept not being important in her daughter’s life—what terrified her was somehow hurting Joule the way she’d been hurt as a child.

  Ashton walked into the kitchen. She pointed to the teapot.

  “I’m making tea. It’s not the best drink in the world, but it’s not awful.”

  He flashed her a smile. “Now I have to try some.”

  “Harper brought over cookies. My mother made them.”

  He got a mug from the cupboard and joined her at the counter. “I remember your mother’s cookies. I’m all in.”

  He would probably inhale the entire plate of them before she had a chance to finish one, but that was okay. She enjoyed having Ashton around. They were friends, or so she’d thought.

  She waited until they were seated at the kitchen table, then forced herself to look at him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you needed clothes and toiletries? I asked because I was concerned. It wasn’t an empty question, Ashton. You live here now. We want you to be comfortable.”

  He flushed. “I didn’t want to be a bother. Stacey, you guys have taken me in, you’re paying for a lot of my college. That’s more than anyone has ever done for me. I don’t need new clothes or anything else.”

  “Yes, you do.” She thought about his ancient computer, then decided this wasn’t the time to bring that up. “We want you to have what you need. We’re very fortunate financially.” She hesitated, not completely sure how much she could discuss without crossing the invisible and ever-moving lines of social correctness. If only Kit were here. He would know what to say.

  “I’m going to get a job,” Ashton told her. “Then I can pay for more things.”

  She gripped her mug. “It’s not about money. It’s about taking care of you. We want to take care of you. We want you to feel safe here, and welcome.”

  He blinked several times, then cleared his throat. “Thanks. I do feel that.”

  “Good. If you need something, tell me. I’m not like my sister. I’m never going to be able to guess what’s going on.”

  “You and Harper are really different, huh?”

  “I know. She’s so maternal. She always knows the right thing to say or bake or how to decorate. She takes after our mom.”

  He reached for one of the cookies. “Your mom sure can bake.”

  “She’s a big believer in home and family being the most important things in the world. Everything else takes a distant second.” She looked at him. “Do you know about my Grandpa Wray?”

  “No. Who is he?”

  “In the 1960s, thirteen men walked on the moon. Graham Wray was one of them. He was a fighter pilot and an astronaut.”

  “No way. Why didn’t I know this?”

  “I have no idea. I thought I’d told you, but maybe not.” She sipped her tea. “Back then, being an ast
ronaut was like being...” She searched for an analogy.

  “Being in a boy band?” he offered with a grin.

  “Maybe. Grandpa Wray was famous, as was his family. When he got back from the moon, they all went on a world tour.”

  “Cool.”

  “I think so but my mom hated it. She was only fifteen and thought her dad should stay home with her. The space program is demanding and he’d missed birthdays and Christmases all her life, and she never got over it.” She reached for a frosted sugar cookie. “Psychology is not my area of expertise, but from what I can piece together, Bunny decided that she was going to only focus on family. That nothing else mattered. She passed her entire skill set on to my sister, but when it came to me, I was a disaster.”

  “You took after Grandpa Wray.”

  “I did. He was wonderful. When the family went to Florida, they all went to Disney World, but I went to Cape Canaveral to see the space program with my grandfather. Everyone knew him and respected him.” She smiled at the memories. “They treated him like visiting royalty. I got to be a part of that. He was always bragging about how smart I was. He was the one who paid for my college. He wanted me to study astrophysics, but when I went into medical research, he teased that it was so I could help him live forever.”

  “You miss him.”

  “I do. He was a great man. It’s just, as far as my mother’s concerned, being like him isn’t a good thing. Like I said, I’m not like Harper, so there’s no way I can anticipate what’s wrong or guess when you need something.”

  “I promise to tell you when I’m out of socks.”

  “Thank you.”

  They looked at each other, then away. Stacey had the sense she was missing something vital. Did Ashton want her to hug him? Did they have that kind of relationship? Harper would know, she thought with a sigh. Harper would be the perfect surrogate mother, just like she’d been the perfect parent to Becca, while Stacey was unclear on what it meant to have a baby beyond being the vessel.

  * * *

  Harper ran the numbers one more time. One of the advantages of all her Virtual Assistant training was she could put together a spreadsheet on a moment’s notice. The disadvantage was she could no longer hide from the sad reality that was her monthly budget.