Meg had been here only once, after Ali was born. All she remembered about that day was sitting on a shabby sofa, trying to make conversation with her sister. Then the Bluesers had descended—Claire’s friends—they’d swarmed into the house like locusts, chattering and buzzing.
For an endless hour, Meg had sat there, sipping weak lemonade, thinking about a deposition that had gone badly. Finally, she’d made some idiotic excuse and slipped away. She hadn’t been back since.
Now she parked and got out of the car. Lugging gifts, she walked up to the front door and knocked.
No one answered.
After a long wait, she walked back to the car and drove the five hundred or so yards to the campground’s main office.
She walked past the swimming pool, where kids were playing Marco Polo, toward the long, narrow log building that served as the registration office. A bell tinkled overhead as she opened the door.
Sam Cavenaugh stood behind the desk. At her entrance, he looked up. His ready smile faded slowly, then reinforced itself. “Hey, Meg. It’s good to see you. It’s been too damn long.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you missed me.” As always, she felt uncomfortable around Sam; angry. Harriet claimed it was because Claire had rejected Meghann in favor of him, but that wasn’t right. She still remembered the day he told her, Go, just leave. He’d thought she was a bad influence on his daughter. But what she’d really hated, the one that stayed with her was just like your damn mother.
They stared at each other. Thankfully, he kept his distance.
“You look good,” he said at last.
“You, too.” Meghann glanced down at her watch. The last thing she wanted to do was stand around not talking with Sam.
“Claire told me to watch out for you. She’s running a little late. The Ford family, over in campsite seventeen, had a little emergency with their stove. She had to go help them out, but she should be back any minute.”
“Good. I’ll wait for her at the house, then.”
“She should be there any minute.”
“You just said that.”
“You’re still tough, aren’t you, Meghann?” he said, his voice soft, a little tired even.
“I had to be, Sam. You know that better than anyone.”
“I didn’t kick you out, Meghann, I—”
She turned and walked away, let the door slam shut behind her. She was halfway to the car when she heard his voice again.
“She’s happy, you know. With this fella,” he said.
Meghann slowly turned around. “If I remember correctly, you were happy when you married Mama. I was happy when I married Eric.”
Sam walked toward her. “Your mama is a piece of work, that’s for sure, and I was mad at her for a lot of years, but I’m glad I married her.”
“You must be on drugs.”
“Claire” was all he said.
“Oh.” Meghann felt a pinch of jealousy. There it was again—the Claire father-daughter thing. It pissed her off. She ought to be long past that.
“Be careful with her,” he said. “You’re her sister.”
“I know I’m her sister.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, I do.” Once again, she walked away. She strolled through the campground, surprised at the number of guests who were there. All of them seemed to be having a good time. The place was well maintained and perfectly situated. Every view was a picture postcard of mountain, trees, and water. Finally, she returned to her car and drove to Claire’s house.
This time when she knocked on the front door, she heard the patter of feet come from inside. The door burst open.
Alison stood there, dressed in daisy-festooned denim overalls and a pretty yellow eyelet blouse.
“You can’t be Alison Katherine Cavenaugh. She’s a baby.”
Ali beamed at that. “I’m a big girl now.”
“Yes, you are.”
Alison frowned up at her. “Your hair is longer and there’s gray in it.”
“Why, thank you for noticing. Can you give your Aunt Meg a hug?”
“You look like you’re breathing okay.”
Meg had no idea what the child meant by that. “I am.”
Alison moved forward and gave her a lukewarm hug. When she stepped back, Meg said, “I brought you a present.”
“Let me guess.” Claire emerged from the shadows at the end of the hallway. “You thought every five year old needs a Swiss Army Knife.”
“No. A BB gun.”
“You didn’t.”
Meghann laughed. “I went into the bowels of Hell—a toy store at Northgate—and found the dullest-looking salesperson. She recommended this instead.” She handed Alison a brightly wrapped box.
Ali ripped it open. “It’s a Groovy Girl, Mommy. A Groovy Girl!” She flung herself at Meghann, this time hugging for real. She showed the doll to Claire, then ran upstairs.
Meghann handed Claire a bottle of wine—Far Niente 1997. “This is one of my favorites.”
“Thank you.”
They stared at each other. Their last meeting had been a year ago, when Mama was in town for the Fan-ference. Mama had taken Claire and Ali to the zoo, then later, Meghann had joined them at the Seattle Center. They’d spent most of their time taking Alison for rides in the Fun Forest. That way, they didn’t need to talk.