“What’s the big deal? We’ve shared a birthday for over thirty years, why can’t we both share something exciting at dinner? In fact, why can’t you just tell me what your news is, and I’ll tell you mine? You used to tell me everything.”
“Penny.” She looks at me incredulously. “You’re acting like we’re close, and we’re not. That birthday we share? How many times have you ever called or texted me on it?”
“We always talk on our birthday.”
“Because I call you or I text you. I’m always the one who initiates contact.”
I’m shuffling through my mental Rolodex of our last thirtysomething birthdays, trying desperately to find an example of me reaching out to Phoebe. I need there to be at least one time that it was me who called her and reminded her that she was technically the younger twin by four minutes, because if there’s not, then I’m an even bigger jerk than I ever thought possible.
“Maybe we can work something out.” Falon rests her hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. “I’m sure your parents are going to be happy for all of us. There’s plenty of love to go around, right?”
“You don’t get it.” Phoebe shakes her head. “I’m not worried that there’s not enough love or appreciation to go around. Our news, while very exciting to us, has the potential to ruffle some feathers. I don’t want to risk Mom or Dad getting upset and making a scene in front of Smith and some stranger.”
“Are you telling them that you’ve decided to re-pierce your nipples?” I try to lighten the mood. “Because that probably will be a shock.”
“I don’t want to joke, Penny. Everything is always a joke to you.”
“OK. I’m sorry.”
“I planned how I wanted tonight to go for over a month, and then less than a week ago, I find out that you’re coming home. Why you decided that this was the holiday you finally wanted to springboard back into our lives, I have no idea. But I adjust. Then Mom says Martin is coming, and I adjust again. Now Smith is going to be here, and just when I think I can salvage our plan for tonight, you want me to adjust again.”
She’s never looked at me like this before. Like she resents me. Like she can’t stand the sight of me. All of a sudden, the room feels too cold. It’s like the house itself is telling me I’m not wanted here. That I don’t belong here now, just like I didn’t all those years ago.
Ten years ago, I would’ve run. I would’ve bolted through the front door just like I did when Smith and I got engaged. But I’m not running this time. I don’t want to be at odds with my sister. I want to be able to take up space and be in the group chat and deal with problems instead of letting them fester.
“I don’t think this has to be this difficult. I don’t know why we can’t compromise.”
“I’ve tried to compromise with you, Penny. You’re incapable of it. Anytime you don’t get your way, you take it as a personal offense and then disappear.”
“That’s because your compromises are completely unfair!” I raise my voice. “I wanted to tell my family that I was engaged, and your idea of a compromise was for me to take off my engagement ring and pretend it never happened.”
“Are you serious?” Her mouth hangs open. “I asked you to hold off on dropping a bombshell that was going to piss Mom and Dad off and make a huge scene in front of Professor Winston. I told you to wait until later that night, but instead you ran away. Do you have any idea how much drama you caused when you left? Do you think for a second Mom or Dad believed that you had an emergency obituary that needed your attention?”
“They knew I was writing the obituaries?”
“Of course they did. Do you think they’re idiots, Penny? Our parents might be old, but even back then, they knew how to google a byline. Mom and Dad blamed me for you spending the holidays with Smith’s family after that.”
“That’s ridiculous. It wasn’t your fault that I stopped coming here. I mean, sure, I was mad at you, but I got over it. I liked being with the Mackenzies. They made me feel like I belonged.”
“Well, that would’ve been really nice to know. Maybe the next time you decide to disappear for a decade, you could call or send a text and let us all know that it’s not just one of us you don’t want to be around. It’s all of us.”
She sprays a cloud of hair spray on her already perfect hair and leaves without so much as a backward glance my way. Falon follows her this time. She doesn’t attempt an apology or encouraging word. There aren’t any. I think, for once, Phoebe said everything she needed to.
I hang her suit back in the closet. It doesn’t feel right to wear it tonight. I can be just as convincing in my floral dress. I don’t need to be my sister to be taken seriously in this family. I put on my usual makeup but decide to go with a red lip. I never felt comfortable wearing red lipstick when I was in high school. Something I read in one of those terrible women’s magazines convinced me that redheads couldn’t wear red lipstick. Fiona was the one who convinced me to start wearing it. She always wore red lipstick on stage because it made her feel powerful. I want to feel powerful tonight. But as I hold the gold tube of red lipstick, I hesitate to bring it to my lips. I want to feel powerful, but maybe tonight isn’t the right time to command attention.
I don’t agree with all of my sister’s grievances, but I can’t deny the hurt that she feels. I’m not even sure when or why I got so dead set on bringing up the bookstore tonight. There’s nothing wrong with tomorrow night. In fact, tomorrow would be better. It’s a new moon.
“Knock, knock.” Martin taps on the door. “Can I come in?”
“Only if you have alcohol.”
“I don’t but I know where to get some,” he says. “Also, you look beautiful. Almost as beautiful as my lemon meringue pie.”
I offer a half smile. It’s all I can muster, and even that takes effort. He looks just as gorgeous as ever, dressed in a pair of gray slacks and a black button-up shirt, rolled at the sleeves. There’s the tiniest bit of blond scruff on his jawline, reminding me of the outdoorsy flannel-clad version of him on TikTok.
“You feeling OK?” He closes the door behind him. “We can go over your pitch before we go downstairs. Marie is putting out appetizers and drinks, and Smith and his girlfriend have just arrived. They probably won’t even notice we’re gone if—”
“I don’t think I can do the pitch tonight, Martin,” I say.
“Why? You were so good earlier.”
I see the disappointment in his face. I hear it in his voice. The combination results in a familiar sinking feeling in my stomach, only this time instead of feeling guilty or ashamed, I’m agitated. Why does he care whether I pitch the store to my father? He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t have any investment in me or the store.
“I’m going to do it tomorrow,” I say firmly. I grab my smoky quartz necklace and drape it around my neck. “It’s a new moon tomorrow, and that’s important to me.”
“The moon is important to you?” He lifts his brow and smirks. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I struggle with the clasp of my necklace. “The phases of the moon are important to me. I’m not making an excuse.”
“OK.” The tone in his voice irks me. The man ties knots to calm down and posts videos of it on TikTok, but I’m the crazy one for caring about the moon. “Let me help you with your necklace.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“It’s OK to have cold feet, you know.”
“I don’t have cold feet, and even if I did, it’s not any of your concern.”
“Whoa. Did I do something to offend you? None of this is making any sense to me.”
“I’m not offended, and I’m not obligated to make sense to you.” I pull on my cardigan and stuff my necklace into my pocket. “Let’s just drop the subject.”