by Beth K. Vogt
Tonight, though, I accepted my phone without jerking my hand away when his fingers brushed against mine.
Progress.
“Ellison’s asleep.” Beckett’s voice was pitched low. “Should we head back to the car?”
“I’m okay with staying longer. You?”
“I’d like that, too.”
We fell into step alongside one another. There was no need to rush. We could take our time tonight and tomorrow and in the days to come. For us and for our daughter.
We had a schedule to keep—and I knew that better than anyone else. Even so, my sisters almost had to force me to release Ellison so I could put on my coat, pick up my purse, and leave.
“Do you think Ellison’s going to be okay?” I stopped on the sidewalk outside Jillian’s house, half-turning toward the front door that was adorned with an evergreen wreath decorated with a bright-red bow.
“What you’re asking—again—is whether Dad, Geoff, Zach, and Beckett are going to be able to take care of her.” Jillian linked her arm through mine, easing me a step forward. “You just spent forty-five minutes telling them how to take care of Elle—after you’d handed out multiple copies of a very detailed list of instructions that included each of our cell phone numbers.”
Payton came alongside me. “There’s enough formula to feed Elle for a week. Enough diapers for a month. And enough toys—”
“I get it. They’re more than adequately prepared.” I slowed my steps again. “But it’s a bunch of guys taking care of my daughter.”
“They’re family, not random strangers we picked up off the street. And you arranged this afternoon for us, Johanna, including the babysitting.” Mom spoke up as we approached my car, her smile softening her words. “Ellison will be fine for the time we’ll be gone.”
“Of course, we have no idea where we’re going. Or how long we’re going to be gone.” Jillian clicked the remote, unlocking the doors. “If you want to tell me what you’ve got planned, I’d be happy to drive.”
“No.” I took the keys and, with one last glance at the house, rounded the front of the car to the driver’s seat. No one appeared holding my wailing daughter in their arms. “This is my Christmas gift to each of you. I’m driving.”
“I’m only getting in this car if you promise me that you’re not going to be worrying about Elle the entire time you’re driving.” Payton stood with her arms crossed.
“I’m fine.” Payton didn’t move, despite my assurance. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”
“Aha! We’re on a schedule. Dinner reservations at the Broadmoor, maybe?” Jillian motioned Mom into the front seat.
“Keep guessing, but I’m not telling you.”
“It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, Jill. A little early for dinner.” Payton settled in the backseat behind me. “And we just ate lunch, remember?”
Let them keep guessing. It would distract them while I drove—and also keep me distracted, too. That way I wouldn’t think about Ellison and all the men who’d promised they wouldn’t watch a single second of football while we were gone.
I’d forgotten how close Jillian’s house was to the Pikes Peak Center. In less than ten minutes, my surprise was revealed.
“The Christmas Symphony? We’re going to the symphony?” Mom craned her neck as I drove past the front of the center.
“Good guess, Mom. I have tickets in my purse for the afternoon performance.”
“Jo! This is fantastic.” Jillian leaned forward, her voice loud in my ear.
“I’m glad you like the idea—hey! Are you wearing your seat belt?”
“Yes . . . well, I was, but I thought you were parking the car.”
“I’m going around back to the parking garage. Buckle up, little sister.”
There was a festive air to the center that was decorated for the holidays. And our decision to dress up added more fun to the day. Even ever-athletic Payton had found a dress, and we’d all chosen the boots and coats we’d worn for her outdoor wedding ten months ago.
I led the way down to the center section at the back of the orchestra area, stepping aside so Payton and Jillian could take their seats. “I hope you like this location.”
“This looks perfect.” Mom settled next to me, with Jillian next to her and then Payton.
Without even glancing at her program, Payton nodded to the seat next to her. “Did you see this? There’s a single rose left in this seat. Do you think someone had that put there for his date tonight? We’ll have to watch—”
“Um, no . . .” I paused for a moment, glancing from Mom to my sisters. “The rose is there in honor of Pepper.”
Mom’s program slipped from her hands to the floor with a soft flutter of pages. “P-Pepper?”
Now that it came time to explain the gesture, I hesitated, thankful that no one else was entering our row. “Yes. This is something we’re doing as sisters . . . with you, Mom. And I wanted to somehow include Pepper, too.”
“You bought a ticket for Pepper?” Payton picked up the orange rosebud.
“I think she would have enjoyed tonight, too, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Mom took my hand. “Yes, I do. Thank you, Johanna, for tonight. And for including Pepper.”
“I’m curious, Jo. Why did you pick an orange rose?” Jillian took the delicate bud from Payton and handed it to Mom.
“I researched the significance of the different colors of roses. Yellow ones symbolize joy and caring. And peach ones can symbolize gratitude.” I could only hope everyone agreed with my choice. “Orange roses stand for enthusiasm and energy and can also mean admiration. All of that reminded me the most of Pepper.”
Mom’s eyes glistened with tears and her smile trembled. “I think Pepper would have loved your choice, Johanna.” She handed the stem back to Jillian. “Go ahead and put it back in the seat. It’ll seem like Pepper’s sitting there, enjoying the music with us.”
Behind the curtain, the musicians were tuning their instruments before the performance. I closed my eyes, enjoying the interrupted notes, signifying the performance to come. Soon, the orchestra’s preparation would blend into something beautiful—not unlike how all the unexpected circumstances of the past months had formed something precious. At first, none of it made sense. The discordance of my unplanned pregnancy had been the one thing I’d never wanted. But now Ellison was the one thing I’d never let go. And while the relationships with my sisters were certain to falter because we were distinctive individuals, there was an underlying stability to it that had never been there before.
We were the Thatcher sisters—in spite of our differences.
When the symphony began, there would be a give-and-take of melody and harmony, creating something magical. Maybe . . . maybe we could become better at being sisters because of our differences. We had to allow room for each of us to be who we were without demanding that we be the same because at one time we’d shared the same last name.
“Are you okay, Johanna?” Mom leaned close, her words a whisper.
“Yes . . . yes, I am.” I clasped her hand. “I’m the best I’ve ever been.”
Be sure to read the rest of the Thatcher Sisters novels
Things I Never Told You
Moments We Forget
“Filled with flashbacks, twists, and secrets, Vogt’s family drama forcefully portrays the lasting effect of brash, youthful choices.”
Publishers Weekly on Things I Never Told You.
Available online and in stores now.
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1
THE WHAT-IFS TAUNTED ME every time I visited my parents, but any hope of beginning again had vanished years ago—if there’d ever been one.
What would have happened if my parents had gone through with selling the house in Colorado Springs my sisters and I had grown up in? If they’d labeled and taped up all the boxes—the clothes, the books, the dishes, the photographs, the awards, and the trophies—and unpacked them in a
different house?
A change of location. A chance to start over.
But unexpected loss held my parents captive.
For the most part, our family seemed unchanged. The kitchen clock—a porcelain plate decorated with bright red-and-yellow flowers but lacking any numerals to designate the passing of time—hung in the same place it had since a dozen Mother’s Days ago. The same white wooden shutters hid the bay windows in the breakfast nook. The same worn round table in the middle, surrounded by four chairs adorned with nondescript blue cushions our mother changed out every few years—whenever Johanna reminded her to do so.
I pushed the Start button on the once-new dishwasher. My parents had installed it at the Realtor’s recommendation when they’d planned to move into the larger house that offered a coveted view of Pikes Peak.
Time to focus on the cheesecakes—the engagement party dessert finale. The hum of the dishwasher blended with garbled conversation as the door between the kitchen and dining room opened, the sound of Jillian’s fiancé’s booming laughter sneaking in. Geoff and his corny jokes.
“Just getting the dessert, Kim—”
“I’m not your timekeeper, little sister.” Johanna’s no-nonsense voice interrupted my concentration.
I stiffened, gripping the handles of the fridge. Why hadn’t I posted a Do Not Enter sign on the door? Maybe I should have caved to Nash’s insistence to attend the party, even though tonight was more work than play for me. Why not have my boyfriend act as bouncer outside the kitchen? Flex his muscles and run interference?
I had no time for my oldest sister. Any minute now, Kimberlee would return from setting up the silver carafes of coffee and hot water for tea, along with cream, sugar, spoons, and other necessities. She’d expect the trio of cheesecakes to be arranged on their individual stands—my job tonight, since we’d only had the caterers deliver the food for such a small gathering.
“Do you need something, Johanna?” I pulled the first cheesecake from the fridge, my mouth watering at the thought of key lime and dollops of whipped cream. Being the party planner for tonight meant I’d had no chance to indulge in the hors d’oeuvres or cocktails, despite this being my other sister’s engagement party. And vegan or not, I could appreciate a decadent dessert—and postpone interacting with Johanna.
“You and Kimberlee are pretty good at this event-planning business.” Johanna leaned against the kitchen counter.
“Mom and Jillian seem happy. That’s the important thing.” I settled the cheesecake on its stand, the plastic wrap clinging to my fingers as I uncovered it. “It’s all about finding out what people want and then making it happen.”
“Festivities is making enough to pay the bills, apparently.”
“Yes.”
Not that I was going to produce an Excel spreadsheet of our accounts payable and receivable for my oldest sister.
“You two didn’t charge Mom and Dad full price—”
“Really, Johanna?” Not sparing my sister a glance, I shoved the fridge door closed with my hip, a turtle cheesecake balanced in my hands.
“Oh, don’t get in a huff, Payton. Honestly, how do you manage your customers if you’re so touchy?”
And this . . . this was yet another reason why I didn’t come home unless absolutely necessary. I concentrated on transporting the second cheesecake from the fridge to the island, refusing to square off with my sister. Best to change the subject and prep the desserts.
“Jillian and Geoff seem perfect for one another, don’t they?”
Johanna took the bait. “Of course they do. They enjoy the same foods. The same movies. He makes her laugh. They’re content with a typical version of happily ever after.”
And now my question had set Johanna’s sights on Jillian. Should I ignore the unspoken criticism or not? “You don’t approve of Geoff?”
“I wouldn’t marry him. They remind me of that old nursery rhyme. ‘Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean . . .’”
“And I suppose one of the reasons you’re marrying Beckett is because you make such a good-looking couple?”
“You’ve got to admit he’s easy on the eyes.”
Easy on the eyes? Who said stuff like that anymore? “Not that he’s around very often for anyone to get a look at him.”
“If I don’t mind being in a long-distance relationship, I don’t see why you should be so critical.” Johanna’s stilettos tapped a sharp staccato on the wood floor, her platinum-blonde hair caught up in a tight ponytail that swished down between her shoulder blades.
“I’m not criticizing. Just mentioning that Beckett plays the role of the Invisible Man quite well.”
“You’re almost as funny as Geoff.” Ice frosted Johanna’s words.
Time to change the subject again unless I wanted a full-blown argument with one sister during my other sister’s party. Not that I could think of a topic Johanna and I agreed on. “Isn’t it odd? You and Beckett have been engaged for over two years now. Shouldn’t we be planning your wedding so Jillian and Geoff don’t beat you two down the aisle?”
“It’s not a race. Beckett’s stationed in Wyoming and I don’t want to give up my job to move there—”
“Did I know Beckett was in Wyoming?”
“Honestly, Payton, he’s been there for a year.” Johanna sniffed. “But then, it’s not like we chat every other day, is it? You and Pepper were the close ones—”
Heat flushed my neck. My face. “There’s no need to bring Pepper into the conversation, is there?”
“Why, after all this time, are you still so sensitive about talking about her?”
“I’m not sensitive. I just don’t see why you had to mention Pepper when we were talking about you and Beckett—”
The sound of voices rose once again as the kitchen door opened. Poor Kimberlee. She didn’t know she’d have to assume Jillian’s usual position as the neutral zone between Johanna and me.
“Have you seen Jillian?”
Not Kimberlee. Mom, who was also an expert human buffer.
“Isn’t she with Geoff?” I removed the cling wrap from the cheesecake.
“She was a few moments ago, but now I can’t find her.” Mom circled the island as if she expected to find her middle daughter crouching down hiding from her. “Isn’t it almost time for dessert? And aren’t we supposed to open gifts after that? They certainly received a lot of presents, didn’t they?”
“Yes. It’s a great turnout.” If only the kitchen didn’t feel like a revolving three-ring circus. How would Johanna like it if our family showed up at the hospital pharmacy where she was in charge?
Before I could say anything else, Kimberlee, the one person I’d been waiting for, joined the crowd. “Are we all set in here, Payton?”
“Just about.” I swallowed back the words “if people would stay out of my kitchen.” This wasn’t my kitchen. And family or not, Mom was a client, at least for tonight, and needed to be treated like one. And I’d been dealing with Johanna for years. If I wanted tonight to be a success, the less said, the better.
“Mom, why don’t you and Johanna join the guests?” I removed the classic cheesecake from the fridge. “I’ll find Jillian while Kimberlee makes the announcement about dessert and Jillian and Geoff opening their gifts.”
As Johanna and Mom left, I faced my business partner, shook my head, and sighed. “Family. And before that, a longtime family friend wandered in, asking for the crab dip recipe.”
“It comes with working for relatives.” Kimberlee took the cheesecake from me, the eclectic assortment of rings on her fingers sparkling under the kitchen lights. “But honestly, everything has gone beautifully. There’s hardly any food left.”
“That’s because I know how to plan portions.”
“It’s because we know how to throw a good party.”
“Well, let’s keep things going and get this dessert set up.”
Once the trio of cheesecakes was arranged on the table in my parents’ dinin
g room, I nodded to Kimberlee. “I’ve got to go find our bride-to-be.”
“No problem. I can handle this.” Kimberlee smoothed a wrinkle from the white tablecloth and repositioned the vase filled with bright-red poppies, my mother’s favorite flowers.
“It’s not like she wandered far. She’s probably in the bathroom touching up her makeup.”
Not that Jillian was a “refresh her makeup” kind of gal. Mascara and a little bit of basic eyeliner was her usual routine. Lipstick was reserved for fancier affairs. She’d probably be cajoled by the photographer into wearing some on her wedding day.
The upstairs bathroom was empty, lit only by the flickering flame of a cinnamon-scented candle. Where could Jillian be? A thin band of light shone out from beneath the door of Johanna and Jillian’s former bedroom at the far end of the darkened hallway. Why would my sister be in there? As I moved past my old bedroom, my fingertips brushed the doorknob for a second. I pulled my hand away, balling my fingers into a fist.
I paused outside the bedroom and then rapped my knuckles against the door. “Jillian?”
Nothing . . . and then, “Payton? Do you need me for something?”
Just for her party. I eased the door open, stepping inside. “What are you doing up here? It’s time to open your gifts.”
What had once been Johanna and Jillian’s room was now a generic guest room. At the moment, the only light came from the slender glass lamp on the bedside table. My sisters’ beds had been replaced by a single larger bed covered in a gray-and-white paisley comforter. An idyllic outdoor scene adorned the wall across from the dark oak dresser.
Jillian, who’d been hunched over on the corner of the bed, straightened her shoulders. “I, um, got a phone call and decided to take it in here away from all the noise.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Jillian’s smile seemed to wobble for the briefest second. “Did you need me for something?”
