Page 27 of Phishing for Love
“Will you braid my hair later, Auntie Tess?” Lisset asks.
“Absolutely, sweetie.”
“John out back?” Nathan asks.
Mom nods. “He’s got the steaks on the grill.”
“I’ll take you, Uncle Nathan!” Lisset offers eagerly, wriggling out my arms to hold his hand.
“Save the steaks,” I mouth to him as Lisset leads him outside.
He nods and throws me a wink over his shoulder.
Watching the two of them together, I feel a cautious tug on my heart.
Kate squirts moisturizer onto her hands. “I can practically see your ovaries jumping up and down.”
I give an easy shrug. “He’d make a good father.”
“Yeah, well, make sure he’s a good husband first.”
I study my sister in her faded summer dress, my throat tightening when I see how carefully she carries herself, as though her bones are as fragile as her heart.
As she so often does, Kate misinterprets my concern as pity, and her anger flares. “Of course, Nathan has to ask you to marry him first.”
“I know that,” I say evenly.
“I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”
“Nathan will ask me when he’s good and ready.”
“And if he does eventually work up the courage, I don’t see you saying yes.”
Stung, I make no effort to calibrate my reply. “It’s none of your business, Kate,” I fire back. “Anyway, you’re the last person who should be giving me advice.”
“Enough, you two!” Mom slaps her hands down on the counter and aims a steely-eyed look our way. She doesn’t often haul it out, but when she does, it’s like Kate and I are two tiny ships being hunted by a German wolf pack. We don’t stand a chance. “There will be no bickering today. I have a headache and I don’t want it to turn into a migraine listening to my two children snap at one another.”
“Yes, Mom,” we both murmur in contrite tones.
“Tess, you prepare the corn for steaming,” my mother orders in a brisk tone. “Kate, get started on the bean salad.”
We move obediently around the kitchen, following my mom’s barked instructions. A couple of minutes later, whileshe’s chopping up a red pepper, Kate bumps me with her hip.Sorry, her bump says. I give her a gentle shoulder nudge back.It’s okay.
We are so alike and yet so dissimilar. Although we’ve both inherited Mom’s heart-shaped face and small nose, Kate gets her olive skin and dark eyes from Dad’s side. Her hair color is the same light brown as mine, but she doesn’t bother with highlights and wears it in a cute pixie cut that only accentuates her huge eyes and gorgeous cheekbones.
Kate’s full name is Katherine, a soft and feminine name, lovely on the tongue. But three years ago, when her life imploded, my sister instructed all of us to call her Kate, a brisk, efficient, no-frills name. She then adopted the personality of a Kate—busy, brusque, serious. No time wasted on fun and frivolous things.
Whereas a Katherine floats through life, a Kate strides through it. Like a bowling ball headed straight for the pins, no floundering Katherine-like in the gutters.
I ache for Katherine, the sister I barely remember.
“These are for you.” I hold out the earrings from Mevia.
Kate takes them gingerly from me. “What are they?”
“Earrings.”
“They look like bacon strips.”
