“I gotta pee. Where’s the bathroom?”
“Um . . . it’s down the hall on the left. Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Starving! Hey, little rat dog. You’re cute.”
Melissa opened the fridge and took out some cheese, grapes, the salami made with porcini mushrooms. Went into the butler’s pantry and took out some organic whole wheat crackers and laid them out on a wooden cutting board. Some olives (which were too salty for her) and gherkins. If she’d had more notice, she could’ve done a proper charcuterie board, but . . .
Her sister was here. Her sister. She remembered them sleeping in the same sweaty twin bed in the summer, back when Kaitlyn was scared of thunderstorms. Making popcorn after school. Walking to school together when Katie was little enough to hold her hand. After all these years, they were together again. Kaitlyn was here.
To take Ophelia back. Well, that wasn’t going to happen, and Melissa couldn’t suppress the thrill of seeing her sister again. It had been so long. There was so much to talk about.
“I poked around a little, Missy. Criminy, this place is amazing! You got another sugar daddy now?”
“I’m the sugar mommy, actually,” she said, smiling. She opened her arms. “Give me a hug, sissy.”
Katie grinned, and though her hair was dyed black with white streaks and she wore shredded jeans and a T-shirt that read “Not today, Jesus” with a picture of Satan underneath the words, and her arms were covered in tattoos, it sure felt good to hug someone Melissa had always loved.
Both of them had tears in their eyes when they broke apart.
“Come and sit,” Melissa said, glancing at the clock. They had hours before Ophelia would come home. “Tell me everything.”
“Long story short, I got released for good behavior, believe it or not.”
“And how was . . . jail?”
“Oh, it was great, Miss. I’m thinking of buying a timeshare so I can go visit my gals.”
“But you were okay?”
“More or less.” She offered her left arm for review. “See that scar? A fight in the bathroom. She got me pretty good. I had to have stitches and stayed in the regular hospital and everything. It was a pumper, all right. Blood everywhere, then a ride in the ambulance, handcuffed to a bed.”
“That sounds exciting.”
Katie laughed. “It was. Hey, thanks for filling up my credit at the commissary. I was the only one who always could afford lipstick and hot sauce.”
Melissa smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Katie ate a few crackers, sniffed the salami and took a bite. “Got any wine?” she asked. “Maybe a beer? I got outta jail, borrowed Angela’s car and headed straight here. I haven’t had a drink in five years.”
Melissa didn’t answer.
“It was heroin I was addicted to, Missy. Not wine.”
“Okay.” She heaved herself up and got a bottle of sauvignon blanc, opened it and poured her sister a glass.
“You gonna join me?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Oh. Is that how rich people do it? Mama used to brag about how she had an Old Milwaukee every night when she was pregnant. Didn’t hurt us none.” She flashed that mischievous grin, almost begging Melissa to correct her grammar.
“It’s really good to see you,” Melissa said. For the first time in . . . in years, in a decade, she felt something inside her relax a little. “How did you find me?”
“Oh, honey. You think your little sister ain’t as smart as you? Took me about five minutes on the Google. That oyster video helped a lot. Had to say, it sure made me laugh. So I got the name of the restaurant, googled ‘real estate transactions,’ and bing bang boom, here I am.”
“Good for you. I love your tattoos, by the way.” She didn’t, of course. They were so common. “So many of them.”
“Thanks. So, you feeling okay? Pregnancy-wise? When are you due? You’re big as a house.”
“Late April. No, I’m not feeling okay. I cry all the time, can’t stand my husband but I’m unbelievably horny. I want to eat everything that’s not nailed to the floor, can’t sleep for more than twenty minutes without getting uncomfortable, and I hate how I look.” It was kind of wonderful, being honest. God knew it had been a long, long time.
“So . . . normal, in other words.” Katie laughed and ate another piece of salami. “This shit is amazing, by the way.”
“You’re staying for a few days, right?”
“Sure. I’d love to sleep in one of these rooms and look out at that there ocean. Eat your good food. Meet your husband and tell him all about you.”
“Kaitlyn, I . . . I don’t want him knowing where I grew up. How our town was, our parents.”
“Why not? Look at you now! You’re loaded, you have this place, you’re like Oprah or something. Good for you, I say. Really. You got everything you wanted, Missy. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I married money. The first time, that is. Dennis.”
“Yeah, I remember that name. Harminee was sure broken up when he died.”
“He was a good guy.” Tears flooded Melissa’s eyes . . . pregnancy hormones and nostalgia. “He really was. Incredibly generous and even-tempered. He was a surgeon, and he was one of the best. He adored Ophelia. They were thick as thieves, those two.”
“Why’d you leave New York? Oh, man, this wine is amazing! At least, it is to this poor jailbird junkie.” It should be good, Melissa thought. It cost $300 a bottle.
She shifted before answering her sister. “I guess I wanted a change. Thought it would be good for Ophelia to grow up in a small town.”
“How long you been here?”
“A year. She does well at school and takes French lessons. She said she wants to play softball in the spring.” She paused. “She has friends here, Katie.”
“Well, she can have friends and do all that back in Wakeford. Mama and Daddy said they’d let us live there for free while I look for work, but I want to get my own place, you know? For me and her.”
“There are French tutors in Wakeford now?”
Kaitlyn rolled her eyes, so much like Ophelia. “Probably not. But I’m her mother, Missy. She should be with me. Besides, you got one on the way. You don’t need mine anymore.”
“I’m her legal guardian,” Melissa said. “She has a good life here.”
“Does she? She says she can’t stand your newest husband. Has some complaints about you, too, for that matter. She wrote to me when I was in prison, you know.”
“Of course I know. I encouraged her to. Who do you think mailed the letters? I didn’t want her to think you just abandoned her. But you can’t take her.” What were the complaints? God knew she’d given the child everything a kid could want for the past five years. Was it five? Gosh, it was! “She’s been with me almost half her life.”
“Well, we’ll see what she thinks, won’t we? Because legal guardian ain’t no mother. Hate to break it to you.”
Melissa put her hand on her stomach and took a slow, calm breath. “Obviously, we can talk more about it. But I haven’t seen you in so long, Katie, and I really am so glad you’re here to visit.”
That might not have been the case when Dennis was alive . . . it definitely wouldn’t have been the case when he was alive, because he’d thought she was an aspiring doctor with a first-rate education. With Bradley, she hadn’t had to spin so many lies. Her money told its own story. Tragically young widow with a huge heart, raising her niece, throwing money around the community. He didn’t ask many questions, anyway.
Kaitlyn was right. So what if Bradley found out she was white trash? She wasn’t anymore, and as Katie said, she had every right to be proud. She’d made this life for herself and for Ophelia, and it was a beautiful life at that. Sort of. It looked beautiful, anyway.
“All right,” Katie said. “We’ll call a truce for a couple days. I missed you, too, sissy. And I could get used to this lifestyle. Show me your closet. I bet it’s stuffed to the gills.”