“Do you want to?” Natalie asked as she poured what looked to be molten caramel from a pan into a baking sheet. Brooke watched as she used a rubber spatula to expertly spread the hot substance around until it was smooth.
“Did you?” Brooke added the eighth egg, careful not to allow any shell to land in the batter. She couldn’t believe how natural it felt to be with Natalie, working together in the kitchen, chatting as they did. It felt like they already knew each other, as though they hadn’t been apart all those years. Maybe this isn’t the start of a new relationship, she thought. Maybe it’s the remembering of the one we already had.
“Absolutely,” Natalie said with a grin. “I’m way too much of a control freak to have let it be a surprise. I needed to plan, especially with Hailey, since she was my first. To shop for clothes and paint the nursery. And once we knew, I read everything I could on how to be a good parent.”
“Did that help with your nerves?” Brooke asked. Her self-doubt was a tiny, yipping dog inside her mind; she’d yet to find a way to fully silence it.
“A little,” Natalie said. “But then she came out and I was terrified all over again that I’d screw her up.”
“But you didn’t,” Brooke said. “She seems like a great kid. Henry, too.”
“I hope so,” Natalie said. “Time will tell, I suppose. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that kids seem to be who they’ll grow up to be pretty early in life. At least on a basic level. I think Kyle and I have helped teach them how to make good choices between what’s right and what’s wrong, but their personalities have been with them from the get-go.”
Brooke thought about this as she finished adding the last egg, and when it was incorporated, she turned off the mixer.
“Sandwiches are in the fridge,” Natalie said, “if you decide that you want one.” But Brooke felt a wave of nausea rush over her, and whether it was due to her nerves or the baby, she didn’t think she should eat. A rap on the back door interrupted her thoughts, and Natalie went to answer it.
An older man, whom Brooke assumed was the Alex that Natalie had mentioned, stepped into the mudroom and carefully wiped his feet on the doormat. He wore dark brown work boots, loose denim overalls, and a green plaid, flannel jacket.
“Hey,” he said, lifting a hand in greeting at Brooke, who nodded in return.
“What’s up?” Natalie asked.
“I just wanted to check and see what would be a good time for us to turn off the water so we can get some pipe work done in prep for the plumber.” He glanced at the mess scattered across the room, the dirty dishes piled in the sink. “I’m guessing it isn’t now.”
Natalie laughed. “Why would you say that?”
“Just a hunch,” Alex said, drily. “It looks like sugar Armageddon in here.”
“Like Sara Lee exploded,” Brooke added, and Natalie laughed. She grabbed a brown bag from the countertop, next to the toaster. “Here,” she said, handing it to the man. “A little something for you and the crew. Do you have coffee out there? If not, I can make some.”
She’s a generous person, Brooke thought. She has a good heart. Brooke wondered if she had been adopted, like Natalie, raised in a family that loved her, would she be less guarded? Would she offer baked goods to mere acquaintances and invite her estranged sister into her life without so much as a hint of hesitation? There was no way for her to know.
“We’re all set,” the contractor said, taking the bag from her. “Thanks.” He paused. “You should be careful, feeding us like this. We might start slowing down the work just so we can stick around longer.” He winked, and then he was gone.
“Okay,” Natalie said. “You can add the flour to the batter—it’s right there, premeasured in the white plastic tub—then pour it into those pans.” She nodded in the direction of four sheet pans on the center of the island, which looked as though they’d already been greased with butter and sprinkled with sugar.
“What is it I’m pouring?” Brooke asked.
“Almond sponge cake. They’ll bake quickly, and I can finish them when I get back. Then the order will be ready to go for tonight.”
“Are you sure you have time to go?” Brooke asked again, not wanting to inconvenience her sister. Accepting Natalie’s offer to attend the appointment had felt uncomfortable, like Brooke was squeezing into a pair of someone else’s too-small shoes, but it had been too enticing to resist.
“I’m sure,” Natalie said, in a firm tone.
Thirty minutes later, the cakes were baked and cooling on the racks, and Natalie and Brooke were in Brooke’s car, headed downtown. “It’s surreal to be together like this,” Brooke asked. “Don’t you think? After so many years?”
“Sure,” Natalie said. “But it’s kind of comfortable in a way, too.” She looked at Brooke and smiled. “Is that weird?”
“Not at all.” Brooke was happy that her sister seemed to feel the same sense of connection as Brooke had earlier, in Natalie’s kitchen.