Page 39 of Patio Lanterns

Lark returned, shaking her head. “I honestly thought you were putting us on last night. You mean you’re actually going through with it?”

“Of course I am,” Robin said. “We all are.”

“Not me. I want nothing to do with it,” Lark told her. “Mom never expressed anything in her will about wanting us to throw her a party.”

Robin shrugged. “What else were we going to do? Say a few nice words and then just chuck her cremains off the end of the dock?”

Dove and Lark glanced at each other. “To be honest,” Dove said, “I really pictured it being only the three of us. You know, low-key and quiet.”

“Low-key and quiet was not the Micki Pelletier way,” Robin reminded her.

“That may be true, but it would’ve been nice if you’d at least asked us what we wanted to do,” Dove said quietly.

Ouch. Quick, sharp, and to the point: that one stung like an air dart to the neck.

“You’re right, Dove. I’m sorry I didn’t consult you both first. I’ll try to be more considerate of everyone’s feelings,” Robin said sweetly. “I was only trying to take the burden off you guys by planning this myself as a way to honour Mom.”

“And you honestly think you can pull this off in two days?” Lark asked.

Robin frowned. “You don’t think I can?”

“It’s not that I don’t think you can, it’s that I know you won’t,” she said. “You’ll drop the ball like you usually do, and end up embarrassing this family and besmirching the memory of our mother.”

Robin was gobsmacked, and not just because Lark threw around an uppity word like besmirching. “Geez, tell me how you really feel.”

“Lark, come on,” Dove said. “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

Lark sighed. “Look, Robin, I love you. You’re my sister. But your track record doesn’t exactly scream reliable.”

“I’ll have you know that an entire band relies on me,” Robin said. “I design the merch, I pay the vendors, I order the—”

Lark held up her hand. “Spare me. I’ve heard all about how you can be dependable for your little band, but can’t show up for this family when it needs you.”

When had this family ever needed Robin? Lark and Dove had it all figured out and well in hand long before she joined the Pecking Order. If anything, Robin got pushed aside while her sisters did it all themselves, leaving her with very little room to contribute. So, to say they’d needed her all this time? Nah, she called bullshit. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Mom, Rob, I’m talking about Mom. Where were you after Dad died? Sure, you went home to visit, but I don’t think you came up here once.”

“Please,” Robin said defensively. “Mom knew I would’ve come up here if she’d asked me, but she didn’t.”

“Dove and I were here, there, and everywhere else she needed us to be before Mom even had to ask,” Lark said. “We were the ones who took care of her. Dove drove her to appointments and stayed with her through the worst of it. I’ve dealt with the lawyers and agencies and all levels of government. Meanwhile, you think you were handed this golden ticket for a free ride because you’re the youngest.”

A free ride? Oh sure. Robin’s life had been nothing but one big, nonstop merry-go-round.

“Excuse me? Not once did either of you ask for my help, and it seemed like you had everything handled. So what was I supposed to do without getting in the way?”

Lark threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know. Something. Anything.”

“I’m so fucking tired of this, Lark. I don’t know what you want from me. You judge me for not being like you, and yet, whenever I try to rise to the occasion, you’re waiting for me to fail. Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t the ideal daughter. I’m sorry you see me as nothing but the fuck-up in the family who hocks t-shirts for a shitty band, can’t be responsible with her money, and disappoints her dying mother.”

“Are you just about done?” Lark asked sharply.

Robin huffed, folding her arms. “For now.”

“Fine,” she said. “If you really want to throw this party for Mom, go ahead. But just remember, it was all your big idea. So when it bombs, it’s all on you.”

* * *

Robin was last to join the queue of customers waiting for their turn at the store counter. Mrs. Crawley was nothing if not methodical as she systematically tallied each item one by one. It was like watching a snail inch across every lane of the 401.

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