Page 29 of Indigo Off the Grid
“Go meet everyone and you can drag them back here when it’s time to peel the potatoes.” She fluffs the tiny white flowers, turning my sad little bouquet into a perfect country centerpiece, and places it in the middle of the long, rectangular table. “Deal?”
“Deal.”
Sunny leads me into the family room, where I find two other women sprawled on the deep sectional couch. Sarah must have hit copy-paste when she made these women. They all have the same dark hair and blinding smiles, and the same long, tan legs that I’m dying of jealousy over. But there’s no Joe in sight. Bummer.
Sunny waves a hand in my direction, “So girls, this is Indie. Indie, this is Sage, and that’s Willow.” She points at each of them.
There’s a chorus of, “Indie! Have a seat!” followed by them rolling and scooting around to make room for us on the couch. It’s like I’m at the carnival in the hall of mirrors with Sunny. There are three of her now, with slightly different heights and haircuts. I settle into the deep cushions with my legs crossed under me, matching the other women. I can feel their eyes on me, even though they’re pretending to watch the show, which I finally realize is the BBC version ofPride and Prejudice. It’s the scene where Lady Catherine confronts Elizabeth about being engaged to Mr. Darcy, so I know they’ve been at this for a while. My mother hates this show. I love it. Why does this feel like a victory?
Sage wastes no time: “I hear my brother has been strutting around like a topless peacock for you.” Her brown eyes are playful, her eyebrows wag as she does a goofy imitation of some kind of strutting bird from the waist up.
That earns a laugh from the sisters as I choke on air. “For me? I thought that was the male dress code around here.”
“Oh, it is,” Willow chimes in, “but there’s significantly less flexing and strutting when it’s only our mom here. Never none, but far less.”
My face is burning red, but the girls are kind enough not to point it out. That’s when I remember there’s a fourth sister. “Wait, I thought there was a sister named Goldie?” She is hard to forget with a name like that, and I am grasping for a change of subject.
Sunny is zeroed in on Lady Catherine, but she says, “She’ll be here soon.” The other two offer loaded sighs in unison.
“Do y’all live close by?” I ask, because sometimes when I’m feeling awkward my dialect turns southern with a dash of nosey.
They take turns telling me where they live and I’m surprised to learn that they all live close to home, and they all have different jobsat Nizhóní, except for Goldie, who is still in college and works at the retro drive-in hamburger joint I’d spotted in town.
“She likes to skate at work,” Sage adds with a laugh, after I ask why she doesn’t work in the family business with the rest of them. “It’s one of those places where they bring your food to the car on rollerskates. She gets a good workout, plus she’s in love with the guy who owns the place—”
“Stop, Sage. She is not.” This comes from Willow, who so far has been sitting quietly in the corner of the couch.
“Um, except she is. Can you think of a better explanation for Goldie skating around to deliver cheeseburgers for minimum wage? She can go to the gym at the resort if she wants to work out.” Sage adds with a raise of her eyebrows, “She could work there, too.” Her heavy sigh says that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation. “Anyway. Goldie does what Goldie wants and there is no stopping her. This we have learned. She’s the baby of the family and it shows.”
“Says the eldest daughter of the family, and it shows,” comes a voice from behind us. It must be Goldie. She’s another Sage/Sunny/Willow clone, except her hair is dyed honey blonde and cropped to her chin. Her tan skin and dark eyes still match her sisters’, though. “I guess you’re Indie,” she says as she plops next to me on the couch, and suddenly we're enveloped by a grilled onion and hamburger scent cloud.
“That’s me.” My smile is all teeth, trying to prove that I wasn’t sitting here judging her for being the baby of the family before we even met. I come in peace. “Nice to meet you.”
“I feel like I already know you. I mean, I’ve followed you since forever. I promise I won’t ask about the thing. The picture. Joe made me promise, anyway.” She babbles like she got into Mercer’s cherry Coke.
Sunny rescues me. "She doesn't like to talk about work, Goldie."
"Oh, that makes sense. That picture was pretty bad."
"GOLDIE!" the three sisters shout at her in unison. Goldie winces, which makes me wince.
"No, it's okay. It was bad. I take it you've all seen it?"Oof. My face feels like the surface of the sun.
The three women are suspiciously silent. Lady Catherine is wailing on Elizabeth in the background. Somewhere a cricket chirps. I shouldn't be surprised that four women in their twenties have witnessed my viral humiliation, with the way social media works. I can explain myself and they'll get it, right? I start to, but Sunny cuts me off.
"Actually, Joe told us about it already. I hope that's okay? He was worried about you." Her smile is gentle. I can see that she's nervous that I'll be upset with that turn of events. "Goldie was the only one who had already seen it. She brought it up when Joe told us about you." She shoots a withered look toward Goldie.
He was talking to his sisters about me? My heart melts a little at the mental image, and I'm honestly relieved that I don't have to go through the whole rigamarole again. They know. They've seen my public meltdown. And they don't hate me. I'm embarrassed, but maybe I'll survive this?
Then the back door swings open and Joe walks in, the sunlight behind him creating a silhouette of his perfect broad shoulders that makes me forget what we were talking about. I sit there in a dumb stupor taking him in. He's wearing a button down shirt that pulls tight over his shoulders, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows like he just finished putting out a wildfire or thwarting Lex Luthor or something equally manly. He's wearing his signature crooked grin that makes my stomach swoop. My gaze finally lands on his eyes, which are looking right at me, crinkled at the corners. He knows I was checking him out.Obviously, Joe. I'm a human female with a beating heart.
"Hey, Obbs." My voice is one octave too high to be considered cool and casual.
The girls all snicker and he arches an eyebrow at them, his smirk erased. "No." That single word in his gravelly warning voice, combined with a stern look to his sisters, and suddenly I'm a dog with a bone.
"You know his middle name!" I should have thought of this sooner. The sisters’ loud giggles bubble out, despite their attempts to hold them in. My instincts say Goldie is my best shot, so I swing around to her. "You have to tell me."
She covers her whole face with her hands. "He will actually kill me.”
