“Me, too. I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”
True to her word, Meghann was back in ten minutes, wearing a towel around her naked body. Once inside the room, she changed into a bra and panties, then dried her hair and fashioned it into a beautiful French twist.
“That looks great,” Claire said.
“I could do your hair if you’d like.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I did it all the time when you were little.”
Claire didn’t remember that, and yet she crossed the room and automatically knelt in front of the bed.
Meghann settled in behind her, began brushing her hair. She hummed as she worked.
Claire closed her eyes. It felt so good to have someone brushing her hair.
It came to her then, floating on the lullaby of her sister’s humming, a memory.
You’ll be the prettiest girl in all of Barstow kindergarten, Claire-Bear. I’ll put this pink ribbon all through your braids and it’ll protect you.
Like a magic ribbon?
Yes. Just exactly like that. Now sit still and let me finish.
“You did do my hair when I was little.”
The hairbrush paused, then began stroking again. “Yes.”
“I wish I remembered more of those years.”
“I wish I remembered less.”
Claire didn’t know what to say to that, so she changed the subject. “Have you heard from Mama?”
“No. I left three messages yesterday. Her houseboy told me she’d call back at a better time.”
“There’s no point getting mad at her. She is who she is.”
“Yeah. A has-been actress and a never-was mother.”
Claire laughed. “She’d debate ‘has-been actress’ with you.”
“That’s true. After all, she’s done Shakespeare in Cleveland. There. All done.”
Claire climbed to her feet and started to head for the bathroom.
“Wait.” Meghann pulled her back to the bed. “Sit down here. No one is supposed to do their own wedding makeup.” Meg got up, ran to her bedroom, and returned a minute later with a box big enough to hold fishing tackle.
Claire frowned as she sat down. “Not too much. I don’t want to look like Tammy Faye.”
“Really? I thought you did.” Meghann opened the tackle box. Inside lay dozens of shiny black compacts emblazoned with the interlocked Chanel Cs.
Claire smiled. “I think you spend too much time at Nordstrom.”
“Close your eyes.”
Claire did as she was told. Whisper-soft bristles breezed across her eyelids and along her cheekbones.
Fairy kisses, that’s what I call ’em.
Halloween. The year they lived in Medford, Oregon. Mama had been waiting tables during the day and dancing in a strip club at night.
Can you make me look like a princess, Meggy? Claire had asked, eyeing Mama’s oh-so-off-limits bag of makeup.
Of course I can, silly. Now, close your eyes.
“Okay. You’re done.”
Claire’s legs were unsteady as she got to her feet. She looked at Meghann, sitting there on her knees with the makeup box open beside her and, for a split second, Claire was a six-year-old princess, holding her big sister’s hand on Halloween night.
“Go look.”
Claire went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
Her blond hair had been loosely drawn back from her face and twisted into an elegant roll. The hairstyle emphasized her cheekbones and made her eyes look huge. She’d never looked this pretty. Never.
“Oh” was all she said.
“You don’t like it. I can change it. Come over here.”
Claire turned to her sister. They were always doing that to each other, misinterpreting, imagining the worst. No wonder every conversation bruised one or the other. “I love it,” she said.
Meghann’s smile was dazzling. “Really?”
Claire took a step toward her. “What happened to us, Meg?”
Meghann’s smile faded. “You know what happened. Please. Let’s not talk about it now. Not today.”
“We’ve been saying ‘not today’ for years. I don’t think it’s a strategy that’s worked, do you?”
Meghann released a heavy sigh. “Some things hurt too much to talk about.”
Claire knew about that. It was the principle that had guided their whole relationship. Unfortunately, it had kept them strangers to each other. “Sometimes silence hurts most of all.” She heard the ache in her voice; there was no way to mask it.
“I guess we’re living proof of that.”
They stared at each other.
Suddenly the door banged open. “Mommy!” Ali raced into the room, already wearing her beautiful ice-blue silk bridesmaid dress. “Hurry, Mommy, come look.” She grabbed Claire’s hand, dragged her toward the door.
“Just a second, honey.” Claire threw Meghann a bathrobe, then slipped a nightgown over her own head and followed Ali downstairs. Outside in the driveway, Dad, Bobby, and Alison stood around a candy-apple-red convertible.
Claire moved toward them, frowning. That was when she noticed the pink bow on the hood. “What in the world?”
Dad handed her a note. It read:
Dear Claire and Bobby,
Best of luck on your big day. I’m
still hoping to make it up there.
Hugs and kisses,
Mama