Mama had swooped down on one knee in a movement that sent silk wings flying up on either side of her. Is this darlin’ little thing my granddaughter?
Hello, Mrs. Sullivan, Alison had said, stumbling awkwardly over the name she’d practiced for a week. Claire had been sure that Mama wouldn’t appreciate the word Grandma. In print, she claimed to be looking forward to her fiftieth birthday.
Mama had studied Alison carefully. For a moment, only that, a kind of sadness passed through her blue eyes. Then that smile was back. You can call me Nanna. She reached out one bejeweled hand, stroked Ali’s curly hair. You’re the spittin’ image of your mama.
I’m not allowed to spit, Mrs.… Nanna.
Mama had looked up. She’s spunky, Claire-Bear. Just like Meggy. Good for you. It’s the spunky ones that make it in life. I think she’s the most well spoken two-year-old I’ve ever had the pleasure o’ meetin’.
That’s because she’s four, Mama.
Four? Mama popped to her feet. Oh, honey, I don’t think so. Y’all were just in the hospital. Now, let’s hurry along to the snake house. That’s m’favorite. And I’ve got to be back t’my hotel in an hour for an interview with Evenin’ Magazine. Later that afternoon, Meghann had shown up and the four of them had walked silently through the Seattle Center, pretending they had something in common.
It used to hurt Claire to remember that day. Not so much anymore. The wound had healed over, grown a layer of thicker skin. She’d long ago quit wishing for a different mother. It was a hope that had once crippled her; she’d had to let it go. Like her dream of a sister who was also a best friend. Some things just didn’t turn out the way you wanted, and a girl could only cry for so many years.
She glanced up at the clock on the oven. It was almost one o’clock.
In only a few hours, Meghann would be here.
“Great,” Claire muttered.
“My sister called me last night.”
Harriet sat back in her chair. It made a squeaking sound at the movement. “Ah. No wonder you actually kept this appointment. I’d begun to despair.”
“I missed one appointment. That’s hardly a big deal. I called to cancel and I paid for it.”
“You always assume that money is the answer.”
“What’s your point, Harriet? Today you’re being so obscure even Freud couldn’t follow you.”
“I understand that you were upset at our last appointment.”
Meghann’s eye started to twitch. “Not really.”
Harriet stared at her. “Don’t you understand that being upset is part of healing? You need to stop running from your emotions.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, if you’ll listen. I said, my sister called last night.”
Harriet sighed. “Is that unusual? I was under the impression that you spoke to Claire quite often; you just never talk about what matters.”
“Well, that’s true. We call each other every few months. Always on holidays and birthdays.”
“So what is remarkable about last night’s conversation?”
Meghann’s eye twitch kicked into high gear. She could barely see. For no reason at all, she found it difficult to sit still. “She’s getting married.”
“Take a deep breath, Meg,” Harriet said softly.
“My eye is batting like an Evinrude motor.”
“Breathe.”
Meghann felt like an idiot. “What in the hell is wrong with me?”
“You’re scared, that’s all.”
Identifying the emotion helped. She was scared. She released a pent-up breath slowly and looked at Harriet. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“Why do you assume that marriage will hurt her?”
“Oh, please. I notice you’re no longer wearing that one-karat solitaire on your left hand. I don’t suppose taking it off was a song-inspiring moment of joy.”
Harriet fisted her left hand. “Many sisters rejoice when they hear this kind of news.”
“Not the ones who handle the divorces.”
“Can you separate yourself from your job?”
“This isn’t about my job, Harriet. My sister is in trouble. I have to save her.”
“Is she in love?”
Meghann waved her hand impatiently. “Of course.”
“You don’t think that matters?”
“They’re always in love in the beginning. It’s like going out to sea on a huge throat lozenge. The water disintegrates it. After a few floating years, you’re swimming with nothing to hold you up. Then the sharks move in.”
“That would be people like you.”
“This is no time for lawyer jokes. I have to save my sister before she marries the wrong man.”
“How do you know he’s the wrong man?”
Meghann fought the urge to say, They all are. That admission would only fill up another round of observations and questions. “He’s practically jobless. They’ve known each other less than a month. He’s a musician. He lets people call him Bobby Jack. Take your pick.”