“Kimber was just telling us about Ian’s idea for a phone app for playdates,” Kiri said, catching Remi up to speed.
“And I just introduced Hadley to the Sweet Valley Twins series,” Kimber said. “She read the first ten in a weekend.”
“I can’t believe how fast they’re growing up,” Remi admitted. “It seems like just yesterday they were crawling around in your living room, and Kyle was using his law books as blockades.”
Kimber finally looked her in the eye. “That was both another lifetime ago and also yesterday.”
“I remember when you girls were a few centuries younger,” Kiri began. “Do you remember the trouble you two got into when you caught Remi cutting her hair before kindergarten picture day and you cut yours to match?”
Remi winced. “I forgot all about that,” she confessed.
“Mom was not happy,” Kimber reminisced with a faint smile.
“Speaking of, I heard you two are still in trouble,” Lars teased.
“It’s time the world faced it. The Ford sisters are never going to be good at coloring in the lines,” Remi said, raising her glass.
“I’ll drink to that,” Lars chuckled.
“And how’s that husband of yours?” Kiri asked. “Seems like he’s off-island more than he is on this winter.”
Kimber toyed with the stem of her glass. “He’s fine. Busy with work. He caught a few cases that required a lot of extra time. But he’s enjoying it.”
There was a flat, resigned quality to her tone that had Remi’s sisterly radar activating.
Kiri rested her elbows on the table and picked up a puzzle piece. “Remi, how about you? What brought you back to town?”
“Think Brick will put a ring on it?” Lars asked, pulling up a chair.
She choked on a mouthful of a full-bodied merlot. Coughing and sputtering, she reached for a cheesecake bite to wash it down.
“I was missing my family,” she said, stuffing a bite of cheesecake into her mouth. “Thought I’d take a few weeks of vacation and have a nice long visit.”
“And put a smile on Brick’s face,” Kiri said, fitting the piece into place.
Heat flooded Remi’s cheeks. “We’re just enjoying spending time together. There will be no putting rings on anything.”
Any day now, he was going to come to his senses and turn her loose again into the world, ruined forever by his invincible penis.
“I see a few new finds in here,” Remi noted, changing the subject. “Where did you get that basket?”
They ate and drank and chatted for another half an hour. And when Kimber said she needed to head home to get the kids from school, Remi volunteered to go with her.
“You look relaxed,” Kimber observed as they walked, avoiding patches of ice and piles of still pristine snow.
“Me?” Remi asked innocently. “I must have gotten a good night’s sleep.”
“That’s not the face of someone who slept well,” Kimber said dryly. “That’s the face of someone who had a half dozen orgasms in rapid succession.”
“Let’s talk about something other than my face and orgasms,” Remi insisted.
Her sister let out a sigh, watching the cloud of breath appear and then vanish in the cold. “I’m sorry for going PMS 5000 on you. I was spiraling, and it really had nothing to do with you.”
“I’m sorry for blowing back up at you.”
“You held out admirably. Which only served to push me over the edge,” Kimber admitted.
“You were overdue. I mean, what normal human doesn’t lose her shit every once in a while?”
This time, in a vast improvement over the last visit, her sister invited Remi inside. The family’s moderately overweight beagle thumped his tail from his blanket on the couch. Princess Megatron joined the Olson family after Kyle cracked under the pressure of endless pleading from the kids. He surprised a very unhappy Kimber with the puppy. The kids were given naming rights in return for promising to be entirely responsible for the dog’s care.
That lasted all of about thirty minutes. Mega, as he was now known, quickly discovered who was in charge of food in the house and attached himself to Kimber.
“You painted,” Remi said, unwinding the scarf from her neck as she appreciated the soft umber on the walls. Visitors would never guess that two active kids with a vast array of toys, hobbies, and books lived under the tidy roof.
“And redid the floors,” Kimber said without enthusiasm. “And finally sanded down the paint on the molding around the transoms. And painted the god-awful beige brick on the fireplace.”
“It looks like one of those houses on HGTV.”
It did. It was clean but cozy. Colorful but calm. Her sister had a real eye.
“No, it doesn’t,” Kimber said, shucking her winter gear and stowing it on the neat hooks above the driftwood bench.
“I’m serious,” Remi told her.
“Thanks. No one’s really paid attention to any of the changes. I don’t even know why I keep making them.”
“I know you’re into the parenting thing and all, but have you ever considered working part-time as a designer? I mean, think of all the summer rentals that are in desperate need of an overhaul. Wicker couches and pleather futons have lost their charm.”
Kimber let out a strangled laugh. “Have I thought of...” She stopped herself and shook her head.
“What?” Remi asked.
“I’ve thought of nothing but doing something. Anything.”
Treading lightly, Remi followed her sister into the tiny mudroom at the back of the house. On the wall, mounted between tidy cubbies and the laundry, was a giant whiteboard calendar. Colored sticky notes, patterned tape, and hand-lettered notes lay the groundwork for the family’s entire existence.
Kyle trial in Detroit Michigan.
Hadley recital and sleepover.
Ian book club.
Turkey burgers and salad.
Video chat with dog trainer.
Laundry day.
Groceries.
It was hypnotic in its precise structure.
“What the hell is this?” Remi asked in awe.
“That is my life,” Kimber said, crossing her arms. “Well, my family’s life. I don’t seem to have one of my own.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
“I was going to go with terrifying. Where’s your stuff?”
“My stuff?” Kimber’s laugh was humorless. “I don’t have stuff. My stuff is making sure everyone else has their stuff. Kyle is never home. And I love my kids. You know I do. But kids are so fucking hard, Rem. Hadley is just tiptoeing into puberty, and I don’t know if either one of us will survive it. I didn’t sign up to be a single parent. Some days I just want to erase everything and see what happens.”
“You have really great handwriting,” Remi noted.
“Just what I wanted to be known for. ‘Age thirty-four, mother of two. Had nice handwriting.’”
“Okay, that sounds like the world’s worst obituary. Let’s drink some alcohol and talk.”