Page 3 of Things I Read About
I don’t really mind my body, it’s fine. It adequately holds my organs, my being. It moves me from point A to point B. I just neverfeelas confident in my exterior as my sisters seem to be. I want to walk in and own a room like Sam and Sadie. Or hold my head high and carry on an entire interview on camera without missing a beat, like Susan, Dad’s right hand and the Canton International C.O.O.
“Clarky actually let you out of his sight for a minute?” Sadie jabs Sam with her elbow. I smile at the nickname her husband Shep bestowed on Emerson. Shep, Emerson, and Adam, Susan’s husband, have been friends since college. They’re very close, even though Shep seems to do all the talking and teasing for the three of them.
Susan shakes her head. “Emerson has known the family for ages. You’d think he’d relax, but by the end of the ski day he looked sickly. And he’s the best skier of all of us! I bet he’s curled in a ball in silence right now, with all the lights off.”
“That sounds magical,” Skye whispers.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re all so hysterical. Let’s take a selfie for Dad really quick.” Samantha gathers us together and holds out her phone. We squeeze in. After six captures, she puts her arm down and swipes through the results. “Guys! Look how gorgeous we are! This feels like a repeat of my wedding week.”
“It kinda does!” Susan agrees.
Sadie huffs. “Ugh, no thank you.”
“Hey, thanks to my wedding week you got back with the love of your life! You’re welcooooome!”
I chuckle. “I think it was the whole near-death experience, having to be helicoptered to the emergency room, the swarm of paparazzi. I think we can all agree to hard-pass on relivingthatpart.”
“Correct.”
A hostess says our last name, clearly fan-girling, either over Sadie or all of us in general, before leading us to a table. The restaurant off the hotel lobby feels more like a bar, but the food has earned two Michelin stars. The space is modern but woodsy, on the small side, with low lighting and high pub tables. Everyone is chic and mysterious, and not a single person looks like they spent the day being blown around while skiing. We fit right in, I suppose.
“I think we just made that girl’s night,” Skye whispers to Sadie.
“I agree.” Susan smirks as she gets settled into her seat. “Thank goodness you didn’t die. What would America do without it’s favorite Paramour?”
“Hey! We’re canning that nickname! I already told you!” Sadie whisper-shouts back. She’s the most famous Canton, by far. Her romance novels dominate the charts, in stores and on BookTok, and after her recent movie adaptations, she’s become a favorite for the paparazzi. It didn’t help that she dated multiple actors from said movies.
But, looking around, everyone at this resort seems a bit famous. That explains why Sadie’s been more relaxed this weekend. Shep too. He was just a cocky small-town jock when he met our family in high school. But now he’s a famous agent who moonlights as a sportscaster for ESPN and other networks. Together they’re a power couple in the media, especially after the incident at Sam’s reception.
The wedding was a big enough deal already, since Emerson is a Clark, one of Britain’s wealthiest families. And of course, all of us are Cantons. Grandpa’s greeting card company turned into such a huge international brand that sometimes we have to hire security teams to drive us around. Around the thriving metropolis that is Oklahoma City.
My life is so odd.
“Sorry. Sweetheart, then? America’s darling? Honeybun?” Skye teases.
“Sugarmama! Smutqueen!” Samantha adds, and we all try to hold in our laughter.
Sadie tears off tiny pieces of bread to throw at each of us.
“Sadie! You cannot throw bread at a Michelin star restaurant!” Susan gasps.
There she is.
Mom Junior.
I roll my eyes.
Susan is thirteen years older than me, but she mothers all of us. She is also the future CEO of the company, so shemanagesus, too. I love her, I do. But she’s the boss lady, the firstborn, the caretaker and, well, the resident buzzkill. Still, she’s more relaxed here than I’ve seen her in a long time. Probably because she and Adam didn’t bring the kids along on this trip.
“Oh man, I have to admit,” Samantha digs into the breadbasket. “This weekend might actually be better than the wedding.” Skye pretends to choke. “Seriously, no pressure, no planning, no guest list, just us.”
Us,plus all your husbands.
I do not say the thought out loud. I also don’t roll my eyes. It’s fine. They all nod in agreement with Sam’s assessment.
“Yup. Good call on this trip, Sal. What are your plans for the rest of the week?” Sadie asks me.
“Be miserably bored without us.” Sam shrugs.
