by Nan Rossiter
“When are you leaving?”
“Friday.”
Birdie nodded. “Are we skipping next week?”
Remy shook her head. “Sailor and I switched.”
“The week after that is the Fourth of July already!” Piper said. “I hope everyone’s coming—it would be nice to get a head count.” She eyed Remy, who frowned as if she suddenly remembered what she’d forgotten to do.
“I hope so, too,” she said. “I’ll have to ask the kids again and let you know.” In truth, she’d forgotten to ask Payton, Eliza, and Sam whether they were coming to the Cape for the family picnic at Piper’s, but since they usually came—and should know to plan on it—she wasn’t worried.
Piper refilled Birdie’s glass. “What’s got you so glum?” she asked, knowing to choose her words carefully. If she asked the same question in a slightly different way—What’s got you in such a mood?—her sister could easily get annoyed. It didn’t take much!
“Oh, the usual stuff. Same you-know-what, different day.”
Piper frowned and glanced at Remy. They waited for her to continue, but she just took another sip of her wine and sank more deeply into her chair.
Just then, they heard a car pull into the driveway and Piper smiled. “Sailor,” she said, getting up. If anyone would be able to get the bee out of Birdie’s bonnet it was their outspoken sister. A moment later, Sailor came up the steps, looking puzzled. “Whose MINI is that in the driveway?” she asked, looking to see whether one of her sisters had come with a friend.
“Mine,” Remy said.
“No way!” Sailor said incredulously.
“Way,” Remy said with a slow smile.
“You retired Ol’ Bess?!”
“I did,” Remy said, feeling a pang of guilt. Ol’ Bess had been good to her, but she was rusty and old and she had to give her up sometime. “Ol’ Bess has seen better days and her air conditioner hasn’t worked in years. It was time.”
Sailor nodded, still in shock. “I couldn’t really see the color. Is it Spice Orange?”
Remy nodded.
“What year?”
“2013.”
“How many miles?”
“Forty-eight thousand.”
“Stick?”
“Of course.”
“Is it an S? I didn’t notice in the dark.”
“If you mean supercharged, yes,” Remy said authoritatively, remembering how James had explained what the vent—or scoop—was for.
“Where’d you get it?”
“Hyannis.”
“By yourself?!”
“Yes, by myself—why does everyone think I’m not capable of doing things by myself?” she asked.
“Well, it’s just . . .” Sailor said, trying to find the right words. “It’s just . . .”
“It’s just you never do,” Birdie said, finishing her sentence for her.
“I do so,” Remy countered, feeling stung. “I’ve lived all my life by myself and I’ve done everything on my own.”
Birdie, Sailor, and Piper were suddenly quiet. Remy was right. They’d always thought of her as a bit of a church mouse, but their quiet sister had raised three children, maintained a lovely home, paid all her bills, and lived independently for most of her adult life.
“You’re right,” Sailor said. “You have done everything on your own. It was wrong of me to say that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Remy said, immediately forgiving her. “Now, tell us about your meeting.”
Sailor laughed. “Oh, well, I’ll need a drink first!”
Piper poured another glass of the chardonnay she’d brought and handed it to her, and Sailor scooped a tortilla chip into the dip and smiled at Remy. “You made my dip!”
Remy nodded. “I knew I’d get the chance.”
Sailor took a sip from her glass and licked her lips. “Mmm, this is good,” she said, looking at the bottle. “So, I got there right on time, and of course, Frank—who just couldn’t get out of work—was forty-five minutes late. Same old story,” she said, shaking her head and taking another sip. “Anyway, the house is going on the market and we had to agree on a price. We’re asking a hundred thousand less than we paid for it, and the Realtor still thinks it’s too much! She said, for the money we’re asking, the kitchen and the bathrooms should be upgraded. She said people just aren’t using granite anymore and the popular color for cabinets is white, not dark wood.”
“Ha,” Piper said. “I knew granite would go out of style. That’s why I’ve kept our good old Formica.”
Birdie chuckled. “If any kitchen needs upgrading, it’s the kitchen at Whit’s End!”
“Hey,” Piper said defensively. “You should appreciate that I’ve kept everything original. That kitchen is full of memories—just think of all the family meals made on those counters. Not to mention the birthday cakes and science projects.”
“And love . . . it’s really all the love that’s been made on those counters,” Sailor teased with a grin.
“It was the table, not the counters,” Piper said, laughing. “Except for maybe that one time . . .”
“TMI!” Birdie said, holding up her hand. “We don’t need to know!”
“Oh, by the way,” Sailor said, eyeing Birdie as she suddenly remembered how her morning had started. Birdie looked up. “This morning, before I got in the shower, I looked out the window and saw a little finch fluttering around under my bird feeder. At first, I couldn’t tell if it was injured or a baby, but it definitely couldn’t fly. Needless to say, because my sister, the well-known ornithologist, is always telling me that we shouldn’t intervene in the lives of wildlife—I didn’t. I just took my shower, figuring the little bird’s parents were around. But when I got out of the shower and looked out the window again, the little finch was dead . . . and you’ll never guess who murdered it.”
“A hawk,” Piper offered.
Sailor shook her head.
“A kestrel,” Birdie said.
She shook her head again.
“That orange cat you’ve had hanging around,” Remy said.
Sailor shook her head for the last time. “A chipmunk!”
Remy looked horrified. “A chipmunk?!”
“Yes.”
Piper frowned. “I thought chipmunks ate seeds.”
“Did he kill it?” Remy asked, finding this news implausible.
“I didn’t witness the actual crime,” Sailor said. “I don’t have a security camera aimed at my bird feeder, but I think it was definitely him just by what he was doing to it.”
“Don’t say any more,” Remy said, shaking her head. “That’s awful.”
“Geez, I will never look at a chipmunk the same way again,” Piper added.
“I know!” Sailor said. “I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but I looked online to see if it was just one deranged chipmunk, but other people have seen it, too. So even if the parents are around”—Sailor eyed Birdie—“it doesn’t mean the fledglings are safe.”
“It certainly doesn’t,” Birdie said. “They’re most vulnerable when they’re young, but there’s nothing that can be done about it.”
Sailor looked in her sister’s eyes, wondering if she realized what she’d just said. “There’s nothing that can be done about it,” she repeated, but Birdie just looked away and took another sip of her wine.
“So, other than putting the house on the market, what other decisions did you have to make?” Piper asked, anxious to change the subject.
Sailor shook her head. “It was pretty straightforward. He gets his car; I get mine; the contents of the house will be sold and the proceeds will be split evenly. It was a total waste of time. I could’ve easily made these decisions over the phone.”
“Did Frank say anything to you?” Remy asked.
“He tried to apologize, but I just didn’t want to hear it.”
Birdie, Remy, and Piper heard the sadness in their sister’s voice and raised their
eyebrows.
“What?” Sailor said. “It’s over. It’s just over . . . and I need to get over it.” She felt tears sting her eyes, but there was no way in hell she was going to let Frank make her cry, especially in front of her sisters. She took a sip of her wine and looked at Birdie. “Enough about my boring divorce. You don’t seem your usual chipper self, either.”
Birdie chuckled. “Chipper? I don’t think that’s a word anyone associates with me.”
“Maybe not anyone,” Sailor said, “but those who know you best do. We know your chipper scale barely registers in the sunny range, but tonight it’s in the gloom-and-doom range. What’s up? Trouble in paradise?”
“Ha,” Birdie said, her voice edged with sarcasm. “Paradise has dried up and blown away.”
Sailor frowned. “How come? Are you and David not getting along?” She found this hard to believe since David was so easygoing . . . and he was a saint for putting up with Birdie’s moods.
“We’re not,” Birdie said, “and while I steam like a pressure cooker, he avoids the steam.”
“Hmm,” Sailor said. “That doesn’t sound good. He must’ve done something to make you upset.”
Birdie shook her head. “It’s not any one thing. It’s all the little things, added up . . . and me, losing my patience with everything he does. I honestly think I’d be happier living alone.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Remy countered. “David is a love and you’re lucky to have him. Living alone is no fun at all. There’s no one to snuggle up against when you get a chill at night. There’s no one to have a cup of coffee with over the morning paper. There’s no one to hold you when you’re afraid and tell you everything’s going to be okay. You don’t know what it’s like, Birdie, and for you to say such a thing is callous. If David could hear you, he’d be heartbroken.”
Birdie shrugged. “You speak from your experience, Remy, and I speak from mine. Being married isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Remy stood up, overwhelmed by her emotions and blinking back tears. “Who wants rice pudding?”
Piper looked up in surprise. “You made rice pudding?”
Remy nodded.
“Where’d you get the recipe?”
“Mom’s cookbook.”
“Her Good Housekeeping cookbook?”
Remy nodded.
“I’ve been looking all over for that cookbook.”
“I have it.”
“I can’t believe you made rice pudding—that’s why I was looking for it! Nat had a craving and . . .”
“That was weeks ago,” Sailor said. “You haven’t made that poor boy rice pudding yet?”
“No,” Piper admitted sheepishly. “I wanted to make Mom’s recipe.”
“I told you to ask Remy.”
“I know but I kept forgetting.”
Remy mustered a smile. “I know all about forgetting,” she said sympathetically.
Piper stood up. “I’ll help you.”
She followed Remy inside, and as soon as the screen door closed behind them, Sailor turned to Birdie. “That was a little harsh.”
Birdie sighed. “I didn’t mean to be harsh, but honestly, I don’t need Remy—or anyone else—telling me how hard their life is.”
Sailor shook her head. “You know, Birdie, I think it’s time you let go of the past. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve let Easton’s death color all of your days, and in doing so, you’re ruining your own life.”
“There is more to what has shaped my life than Easton’s death,” Birdie countered, sounding annoyed. “You seem to have forgotten all the miscarriages I had.”
Sailor was quiet. “I haven’t forgotten, Birdie. It’s just that life goes on . . . and at the end of the day, what’s most important is the lives you’ve touched and how you’ve—” But before she could finish, the screen door swung open again and Piper came out carrying four bowls of warm rice pudding topped with cool, melting whipped cream.
“This is going to bring back memories,” she said with a smile.
CHAPTER 36
Piper and Nat stood in the driveway, looking up. Piper focused her phone on the tops of the trees and they both waited. Moments later, they heard the sound of an engine. “Here he comes,” Nat said. Piper pushed the Record button and a second later, a small plane buzzed the tops of the trees, wagging its wings. “There he is!” Nat said, smiling and waving, even though he knew Elias probably couldn’t see them.
When the plane was out of sight, Piper pushed the button again and looked down at her phone. “That was so cool!” She started to watch the video but heard the sound of the engine growing louder again and refocused her phone on the sky above the house.
“Here he comes,” Nat said and Piper pushed the button just as the plane buzzed the roof of the house before soaring back out over the Bay. “What a lucky kid,” Nat said with a hint of envy in his voice. “I always wanted to learn to fly.”
“You still could,” Piper said.
“Nah,” Nat said. “I’m too old.”
“No, you’re not,” she countered as she watched the new video.
Nat heard the sound of the engine coming from her phone and looked over her shoulder. “I can’t believe he’s up there all by himself.”
Piper looked up in alarm. “He’s by himself?”
“Didn’t he tell you?” Nat said. “He’s soloing today.”
“Noo . . . he didn’t tell me!”
Nat chuckled. “He probably didn’t want you to worry.”
Piper knew Elias had been taking flying lessons since the previous summer and he’d had countless hours in the sky with his instructor, but to find out he was a thousand feet above the earth in the metal contraption alone was unsettling. “How did he text us to tell us to come outside? There’s no texting and flying.”
“I don’t know,” Nat said. “He probably typed the message before he left and hit Send when he got close.”
“I hope so,” she said skeptically.
Nat put his arms around her and pulled her close. “Now we have just enough time before he gets home,” he murmured.
“Time for what?” Piper asked, frowning, although she knew very well what he meant.
“You know what . . .”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Piper said with a groan. “Not while he’s up in that plane alone. I can’t think about anything else when I’m on alert.”
Nat looked puzzled. “ ‘On alert’?”
“Yes, that’s what moms do when their only child might plummet to the ground at any moment.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Maybe not,” Piper said—she didn’t think she’d ever felt less in the mood. “But I’d just be going through the motions . . . and it definitely wouldn’t be fun.”
“Elias wasn’t flying last night,” Nat pressed, “and you didn’t want to then, either.”
“That’s because he was home,” Piper said, as if the reason should be obvious.
“So?”
“So ... he might hear us.”
“He’s never heard us before. He never hears anything.”
“It’s different now ... he’s older. Besides, we have stuff to do,” she added, putting her hands on his chest and gently pushing him away. She was suddenly feeling very warm and his body was making her downright hot.
“Whatever,” Nat said, backing off.
“Don’t be mad,” she said—she hated that word—“whatever.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.
Piper shook her head and turned to walk to the house, but when she heard Nat’s truck starting, she looked back. “I thought we were going to get some things done around here,” she called, “like weeding and painting and cleaning out the garage. The picnic is in a week and a half.”
“I have things to do at the sanctuary, too,” he said, putting his truck in gear.
“Whatever,” she muttered. She didn’t even loo
k up as he pulled away. Maybe Birdie was right—maybe living alone would be easier! She leaned down to tug on a huge dandelion that was flourishing in the walkway. “I think I’ve tried to pull you out before,” she said, kneeling on the warm slate and digging her fingers into the dirt, but when she pulled on it, it snapped off at the ground.
“Damn it!” she muttered, standing up and walking stiffly toward the shed. She returned with a long metal-pronged tool and a sturdy wooden bushel—both of which had belonged to her grandmother. She could still see her Gram’s hunched figure, kneeling in her yard, painstakingly digging up dandelions, one by one. “This one’s for you, Gram,” she said, stabbing the sandy ground around the dandelion. She pried and pulled and dug, and after a fierce struggle, the foot-long carrot-shaped root released its stubborn grasp on the earth and was promptly and unceremoniously tossed into her grandmother’s old bushel.
Piper moved on to the next dandelion, pushed the weeder into the ground, pried the sandy dirt, and pulled again. As she worked, she thought about her grandmother.
Gram—her mom’s mom—had been the most fiercely independent woman Piper had ever met, especially after her husband died. Gram had been only fifty-two when Gramp died, living just long enough to hold his newest little granddaughter in his lap. Two weeks later, he succumbed to Lou Gehrig’s disease, and after he died, Gram had soldiered on, alone. “It was for the best,” family members said, believing Gram would be more at peace now that Gramp—an alcoholic—wasn’t causing her so much heartache and misery.
Gram had always been set in her ways, though, so her outlook on life didn’t change much. She had survived the Depression with a husband who squandered the little income they had on booze and, as a result, she’d learned to get by on next to nothing—a lesson she never forgot. Even after she started to earn her own income—which had been more than enough for one person to live on—she continued to be thrifty. She often mixed her cereals, having a bowl of a new cereal mixed with whatever needed to be finished. They could be as different as Rice Krispies and Corn Flakes, but she always insisted they tasted good together. She also kept her refrigerator neat and bare—only the essentials—and the shelves always sparkled. She wrapped her bread tightly in several plastic bags to keep it fresh, and she always had a piece of hard candy in her pocketbook, but what Piper remembered most about Gram was how much she loved having her granddaughters stop by for a visit, and how she always had on hand the makings for her famous ice-cream sodas—ginger ale and sherbet.
