by Debby Mayne
Over the past few months, I’ve come to appreciate Justin and not just because he’s always there to fix whatever is broken in the car or house. Granted, I never have to call a handyman anymore, and he repairs my car for the cost of the parts, but there’s more to it than that. He’s good to Sara, and that beats everything else in my eyes.
Now all I need to do is find a way to get Sally to appreciate her brother-in-law and for Sara to include her sister in more of her life. With a new purpose in life—or mission as my husband, George, likes to call it—I begin to formulate a plan in my mind and set out feeling like my old self. There’s nothing I can’t do when I set my mind to it. I’ve always liked a challenge.
I still have a couple of hours before my next church committee meeting, so I head over to the girls’ town house, since I figure they’ll both be there working. It’s nice to see them doing something together.
When Sara answers the door, I have to catch myself to prevent the gasp that wants to escape. Her hair hangs in strings around her very pale, unmade-up face.
“Come on in.” She steps aside and closes the door behind me.
“What happened?” I have to overcome an overwhelming urge to pull her into my arms, check her temperature by placing my forehead on hers, and make her something warm and soothing.
“Morning sickness.” She sniffles. “I’ll never do this again.”
“Never do what?”
“Have another baby. It’s awful.”
In spite of my concern for my daughter, I laugh. “It’s just awful for a little while, but once you’re holding that sweet baby in your arms, you’ll forget all about these mornings.”
She shakes her head. “Never.”
I can see that she’s not in the mood for reasoning, so I figure it’s time to change the subject. “Where’s Sally?”
“I think she’s in the workroom.”
Now I’m confused. “You’re not sure?”
She shakes her head. “When she came to get me, I told her to go away.”
“Oh.” Looks like my work is cut out for me. “Can I go on back?”
She holds out her hand toward the back of the condo. “Go right ahead.”
I’m disappointed that she’s not going with me, but at least it’ll give me a chance to gauge how Sally feels about things. When I get to the door of the third bedroom that’s been designated their workroom, I see her hunched over a table that looks like someone puked up a slew of orange ribbon.
“Hey, girl.” I try my dead-level best to keep my voice light, but even I know I sound fake. So I drop the pretense. “Looks like you’re working hard.”
She turns and gives me a cursory glance. “Ya think?”
Oh, this is much worse than I realized. I take another couple of steps closer. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Yeah. Make Sara do her share of the work. I can’t finish all these orders by myself.”
The sound of shuffling slippers comes up from behind me. “I told you I’d do it after my morning sickness wears off.”
Sally jumps up from her chair so fast it topples over. As she turns around to face her twin sister, I see her frustration. “Okay, princess, let’s do all this around your schedule . . . when you feel like working.” She gives Sara a sarcastic face and then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. A look of contrition comes over her. “Sorry. I should be more sensitive.” She winces. “But the work still needs to get done.”
Sara sniffles and wipes her eyes with the back of her arm. “I’m trying to be a good wife and a good sister and a good mama and a good . . .” She waves her hand toward the mess of ribbon all over the table. “A good bow maker.”
“Look, girls, there are two sides to this. I’m sure that if you . . . if we sit down and discuss this like adults, we can come up with some sort of solution.”
The room grows quiet for a couple of seconds before both girls pipe up. “Mama, please stay out of this.”
I blink. And then I look back and forth between my daughters. Now they’re both glaring at me. “But I—”Sally shakes her head, quieting me. “We know you mean well, but you don’t need to get involved. This is between Sara and me.”
“Yeah.” The color has returned to Sara’s cheeks. “It only gets worse when other people jump in. Even Justin knows better than to come between us.”
They’re clearly on the same side now. Looks like my job is done here, even though I’m not quite sure how it happened. The girls are once again showing a united front, and even though I’m what they’re united against, in some strange way, I like the fact that they’re standing together.
“Um . . .” I glance at my watch and see that I still have a lot more time to kill before my meeting. But I don’t want to stick around here, or I might risk reversing the girls’ progress, so I back toward the door. “I need to run now. Let me know if y’all need anything.”
“Bye.” Sara doesn’t even look at me as she picks up the chair that Sally toppled and then pulls up another one beside it before sitting down with her back to me.
Sally gives me a cursory half smile but doesn’t say a word before joining her sister. They both reach for spools of ribbon and start working.
“I can let myself out.” Then, without another word, I leave their condo. As soon as I get to my car, I blow out a sigh of relief. They’ve argued all their lives, but they also forgive very quickly—sometimes so quickly that I’m not even sure how it happens. There’s no denying that my girls are annoyed with me now, but at least they seem okay with each other.
I think it’s sweet that Justin has been saving for an engagement ring for Sara, but she says it’s a waste of money. When he brought it home that night I stopped by his shop, she told him to get his money back. I have to keep my mouth shut so I won’t say anything that might upset her.
Sara swallows the last bite of her roast beef, stands up, and carries her plate to the sink before turning around to face me. “Where are you going?”
“The first cooking class at the Chef’s Skillet.”
“I don’t know why you want to do that when all you have to do is call Shay. She’ll come over and teach you how to cook whatever you want, whenever you want.”
“True.” I’m not in the mood for sparring with my sister, so I avoid telling her that I need something to call my own now that she has her husband and a baby on the way. “But it’s a fun way to meet new people.”
She chews on her bottom lip for a second. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe I’ll join you.”
My heart sinks. It’s not that I don’t want my sister to go. Well, I guess it is. This is my thing—something I started and want to do without her. But I can’t say that, because even to me, it sounds mean.
“Why do you have that look on your face?” She lifts an eyebrow as she stares at me. “Is it okay if I go with you?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” I can’t look her in the eye, so I take my plate to the sink, rinse it, and put it in the dishwasher.
“I don’t know why it wouldn’t be, but I can tell you don’t want me to go with you.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Think we might be a tad too sensitive?”
“C’mon, Sally, I’ve known you all my life. We’ve been roommates and womb-mates. I know you as well as I know my own self, and I can tell you don’t want me to go.”
My shoulders drop as I let out a breath and look directly at my sister. “Okay, so here’s the deal. You have Justin and now the baby. I have nothing, so I’ve gone out and found something that might be fun.”
“I get that.” Sara contorts her face. “But why do you feel like my being there will take anything away from you? If you love it, that shouldn’t change whether I’m there or not.”
Of course, I know she’s right, but it still seems unfair. I let out another sigh. “Then come along if you really want to go.”
“I’m not saying I want to make it a regular thing, but I have to admit it does sound like fun
.” She leans against the counter, folds her arms, and gives me one of those looks that melt my heart. “May I go with you just this one time if I promise not to keep going?”
I close the gap between us and pull her in for a hug. I think about her baby, so I lean away and touch her abdomen. “My niece or nephew.” Tears well in my eyes, and my throat tightens. “I can’t believe it.”
“I know, right?” She puts her hand above mine and shakes her head.
Now I see a tear falling down her cheek, which totally undoes my composure, and I start sobbing. She chuckles through her tears, which makes me laugh.
She takes me by the hand and pulls me toward the door. “Let’s go dry these ugly tears and go learn how to cook some toddler food.”
Since Justin has her car at the shop, I drive to the Chef’s Skillet. We talk about Mama coming over earlier to check on us, and we agree that tomorrow we need to call and let her know we appreciate her, although she needs to stay out of our squabbles.
“She doesn’t understand us,” Sara says.
“I know. Oh, did I tell you that I had lunch with her this week?”
“No.” Sara pauses. “What did y’all talk about?”
I shrug. “Mostly family stuff.”
“Did she tell you that Coralee has a boyfriend?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. No way.”
Sara nods vigorously. “She definitely does. I saw her post on Instagram, so it has to be true.”
“Are you sure it was Coralee?” This is so hard for me to believe. I have to admit that like everyone else in the family, I’ve always assumed Coralee would remain single for the rest of her life.
“Positive. He’s a cute guy too.”
I sigh. My first thought is that if Coralee has a cute boyfriend, maybe there’s hope for me. Then I feel bad. Coralee has always been a very sweet girl, but she’s always been rather awkward and gangly—not exactly what most cute guys are looking for. “I hope things work out for her.”
We have to drive around for a while to find a parking place. “I wonder what’s bringing all this traffic to town at this time of night,” I say.
“Probably a sale somewhere.” Sara shifts in her seat. “Maybe Shay and Puddin’ got some new stuff at La Chic.”
“Maybe, but since Puddin’s teaching the cooking class, I don’t think that’s why there are so many cars.” I parallel-park in a spot about a block and a half away from the Chef’s Skillet.
As soon as we walk inside the cooking store, Sara’s eyes bug out. “Whoa. I had no idea so many people would want to learn how to cook.”
I look around and see people I know and some I’ve never seen before, which is mind-boggling because I’ve lived in Pinewood all my life. Mavis waves us over to where she’s standing.
“Look at this, will ya?” She grins as she shakes her head. “I’m not sure what we’re gonna do with all these folks. We don’t have enough stoves for everyone.”
“Didn’t you have people call to reserve a spot in the class?”
She shrugs. “I did at first, but it got to be such a hassle I just told everyone who called when to be here.”
Mavis obviously has a lot to learn about organization. In the meantime, she has a problem that needs to be solved.
I look around. “Where’s Puddin’?”
“Over there in the middle of that crowd.” Mavis points to a cluster of a half dozen women in the corner.
Puddin’ is short, so I have to get a little closer to see her. All the women standing around her are talking at the same time, so I figure I need to go over and save her.
A look of relief washes over her when I approach the crowd and ask if there’s anything I can do to help. She quickly scoots through the crowd and closes the distance between us. “Hey, Sally. There are way too many people here, and we don’t have enough cooking stations. What should I do?”
I smile down at her. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of it.” I look around and see that there are enough people for at least two classes, maybe three. “How do you feel about adding another class?”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
She sucks in a breath and puffs her cheeks as she blows it out. “I’ll have to ask Digger if he can watch Jeremy an extra hour and a half.”
“If he can’t—” I stop and think for a few seconds. “Maybe I can.”
Puddin’ gives me an odd look before bursting into laughter. “You’re kidding, right? What do you know about young’uns?”
“Not much,” I admit. “But I’m sure it can’t be too hard with just one.”
She tries hard not to laugh, but I can see the amusement bubbling beneath the surface. She places her hand on my shoulder. “You’re sweet, Sally, but let me call Digger. Can you talk to these people?”
Before I have a chance to respond, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and heads toward the back of the store. I stand in one place as the women close in around me.
I feel completely overwhelmed and frustrated as I try to think of something to say that might calm these women down. As I look out over the group, I finally spot Sara, who winks, smiles, and gives me that special hand signal we used to use to show we had each other’s backs. A sense of well-being and a feeling that everything will turn out all right washes over me. Now I’m glad Sara is here.
I’m really digging all the attention I’m getting from Kyle. Although there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s all about the way I look, I’m so long overdue for it that I’ll take it, regardless of the reason.
After I got used to the new clothes, I asked Shay for some makeup tips. She showed me how to apply mascara and the benefits of lining my lips before putting on lipstick. I have no idea why I didn’t do this sooner. It truly does make me feel better about myself, so I don’t feel as uncomfortable when I talk to people.
As I walk across campus to the Danforth Chapel, where we meet before class, I enjoy the slight breeze that lifts my newly styled hair off my shoulders. Maxie, the owner of Maxie’s Hair Salon, has taken my transformation to a whole new level. As soon as I walked into her shop yesterday and asked for a new hairstyle, her eyes lit up. “A complete hair makeover? Honey, after I’m done with you, you won’t even recognize yourself in the mirror.”
And she’s right. In fact, I feel as though I’m floating inches off the ground. I spot Kyle before he sees me, and I can tell he doesn’t even recognize me as he keeps looking around.
“Kyle, it’s me.” I’m about ten feet away from him when he finally makes eye contact.
His chin drops. “What did you do to your hair?”
I swing it around so it skims my shoulders as I get closer to Kyle. Maxie put a few highlights in, so I’m hoping the sunlight catches it and makes it sparkle. “I got a new do. Like it?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know why you’d get all that beautiful hair cut off.”
“Beautiful hair?” Now I’m confused. “I wanted something more stylish that fits the new me.”
“But I liked the old you.” The look on his face totally throws me off.
I shift my books to one arm while I plant the other fist on my hip. “The old me was frumpy and dowdy. I figured new hair would make me look even better.”
“Oh, I noticed you, all right. I’ve already told you that. It’s just that you never seemed interested.”
“I was interested. And it had nothing to do with what I was wearing?”
He scrunches up his face and tilts his head. “I have no idea what you were wearing. Why would that matter?”
I let out what Mama and some of my aunts call the millennial grunt. “You’re kidding, right?”
His eyebrows come together in a look of concern. “No. I’m not kidding. I don’t really care what you wear.”
“So, are you saying you didn’t mind the fact that I used to wear ratty jeans and sweatshirts that were too big for me?”
He shakes his head. “It didn’t . . . doesn’t matter to
me.”
“Do you not like this?” I lift my arms out to my sides and spin around as he watches me.
“Oh, I like this, all right.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “This looks mighty good.”
“So, which do you like better? The old me or the new me?”
“Neither . . . both.” He lifts his hands and lets them fall. “You keep going on and on about the way you look. Why are you doing this, Coralee?”
I blow out a breath of frustration. “Don’t ever tell me women are complicated.”
“I never said they were.”
“Good.” Now that I’m completely confused by his thoughts about how I’ve changed, I decide this is a topic for a later time. “Let’s get to class. I want to make sure we get good seats.”
We’re in the building and almost to the classroom door when Kyle tugs at my arm. “Wait a minute, Coralee.”
I spin around to face him. “What’s wrong?”
He clears his throat and licks his lips as he looks around and then meets my gaze. “I don’t want you dating anyone else.”
A nervous giggle escapes. “What do you mean?”
“I want to be the only—your only . . .” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Can we be exclusive?” He grimaces. “I didn’t want to do it this way, but I don’t want to take a chance of losing you.”
We’re almost late for class, so I give him as warm a smile as I can manage. “Can we talk about this after class?”
“I just don’t—” He looks at something behind me and then focuses on me. “Okay.”
When I turn around to take the last few steps to the classroom door, I see Charlie Zohl, someone I helped tutor last semester, coming toward us.
“Hey there, Coralee. I was wondering if you’re not busy, maybe you’d like to do something later.”
Before I have a chance to say a word, Kyle steps between Charlie and me. “You’ve got some nerve, buddy. She’s with me.”
My heart hammers as I watch these two guys stare each other down. The professor walks over to the door and clears his throat. “Find a seat, folks. I can’t wait all afternoon for you to figure out who gets the girl.”
