She got out of the car and walked up the slanted concrete driveway that led to a sprawling log house with a wraparound porch. Bright red geraniums and purple lobelia cascaded from hanging pots. Rhododendrons sporting plate-size red blooms were everywhere. She could hear the buzz of conversations through the open windows. From somewhere came the pounding beat of an old Queen song. “Another One Bites the Dust.”
Meghann smiled at the choice. Holding the gift firmly under one arm, she climbed the porch steps and knocked on the front door. You can do this. You can fit in with her friends. Just smile and nod and ask for a pitcher of margaritas.
There was a rush of footsteps, then the door opened.
Gina stood there, her face creased in laughter. Until she saw Meghann. “Oh.” She stepped back to allow entry. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Meghann stared at Gina, who was dressed in a pair of denim capri pants and an oversize black T-shirt. Her feet were bare. Great. “I’m overdressed.”
“Are you kidding? If I hadn’t gained fifteen pounds since Rex left I’d be dressed up, too. Come on. You’re my date for the evening.” Gina smiled. “I thought I’d been stood up.”
She took Meghann by the arm and led her down a wide hallway, toward the noise. They finally reached the great room—a living room/dining room combination—that overlooked a beautifully landscaped backyard. “Claire! Look who made it,” she said loudly enough to be heard above the din.
Everyone stopped talking and turned toward them. The crowd was a sea of T-shirts and jeans.
Except for Meghann, of course, who looked ready for a night of dancing at the Space Needle.
Claire extricated herself from Tentacle Boy and hurried toward her. She looked gorgeous in a pair of ice-blue cotton pants and white boat-neck cotton sweater. Her long blond hair had been pulled back from her face and gathered in a white scrunchy. She smiled brightly. “I’m so glad you could make it. I thought you had a migraine. When I get a headache, I can’t move for hours.”
Meghann felt like Jackie O at a keggar. “I shouldn’t have come. I’ll go.”
“Please don’t,” her sister said. “I’m glad you’re here. Really.”
Bobby sauntered through the crowd and sidled up to Claire, slipping an arm around her hips. Meghann had to admit that he looked good. Damn good. He was going to bypass breaking her sister’s heart and just plain shatter it.
“Heya, Meghann,” he said, smiling broadly. “I’m glad you could make it.”
It stuck in her craw to be welcomed to her own sister’s party by country boy. She had to force herself to smile. “Thanks, Bobby.”
They stood there in an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Gina said, “I’ll bet you could use a drink.”
Meghann nodded. “By all means.”
“Come to the kitchen with me,” Gina said. “We’ll get you a jumbo margarita.”
“Hurry back,” Claire said. “We were just going to start the games.”
Meghann actually stumbled.
Games.
Meghann really did have a headache now.
She sat on the edge of the sofa, her knees tucked primly together, a paper plate of homemade cookies on her lap. The rest of the guests (in pairs, like on Noah’s ark) sat sprawled against one another, in a circle on the hardwood floor. They were all talking at once, resurrecting memories and moments from a lifetime Meghann didn’t know.
Remember when Claire fell off the high dive at Island Lake Camp—
Or when she hid Mrs. Testern’s favorite ruler—
When she called Poison Control because she caught Ali eating the diaper-pail deodorant—
The junior and senior high school years, the girls-just-want-to-have-fun years, the Alison years. They were all a mystery to Meghann. She had stories to tell, of course, stories about a girl who once cut all of her hair so she could look like Buffy on Family Affair, who cried every night that Mama forgot to come home, and who slept curled in her big sister’s arms on a cot that was too small.
“Claire’s big sister,” said a brown-haired woman in faded jeans and an Old Navy T-shirt. Her wedding ring sported a diamond the size of a pencil eraser. She plopped down beside Meghann. “I’m Karen, by the way. We met several years ago. Your dress is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“I hear you want Claire to sign a prenuptial.”
“That was it for small talk, huh?”
“We watch out for one another.”
In truth, Meghann was glad for that. God knew she’d failed Claire in the watching-over department. That was why she was sitting here, overdressed and separate, pretending to love the cookies. “That’s nice. She’s lucky to have you as friends.”
“We’re all lucky. She won’t sign anything, you know. I gave her the same advice.”
“You did?”
She fluttered the fingers of her left hand. “Divorce wars survivor. That guy over there—the one chewing like a squirrel—that’s Harold.”
“Maybe you could talk to Claire. It’s not smart for her to go into this thing unprotected.”
“This thing is marriage, and it’s all about faith. Your sister is one of the believers in this world. Don’t take that away from her.”
“In law school faith is surgically removed.”