Page 27 of Carry Me Home
JANIE
Claire
If you don’t walk through that door in 10 minutes, I’m coming to get you.
Janie
Traffic! I’m almost there.
Claire
What traffic? Aspen Springs only has two traffic lights.
Claire
You’re still in the shower, aren’t you.
Janie
15 minutes, istg. Is Nisha coming with you?
Claire
Are you kidding? The terms of our prenup state two events a year. Any more than that is grounds for divorce. I’m not wasting one event on a frickin’ garden party. I’m saving it for something that really makes us suffer.
My sister hatedthese fancy fundraising parties as much as I did, but she was so much better at them than I was. It was such a joke that she was two years younger than me, because she was born with eldest daughter energy, whereas Mom still warned me to get my bad out first so I wouldn’t embarrass her in front of her friends and Dad’s business associates.
But this time, my parents would have nothing to complain about. I had stayed up late reading everything I could get my hands on regarding the farming bill that was scheduled for Congress before the August recess—that would make Dad happy. And then I had chosen an outfit that even Mom couldn’t find fault with.What would Claire wear?I’d asked myself. Wide-legged tan trousers, point-toe flats, and a silk blouse in a deep aubergine that complemented my pale skin and red hair. I’d even tied my hair back in a low ponytail to imitate her nineties-era pixie crop.
“Oh, my god, are you cosplaying me?” Claire cackled. “I love it! It’s like looking in a mirror.”
I twirled so she could fully admire the outfit. “Mom is going to approve, right?”
“You lookgorgeous.”
“You have to say that. I look like you.”
IfI were three inches taller, ten pounds slimmer, had skin that never freckled, and hair shaded a sedate auburn instead of ostentatious copper, that might actually be true. But even if I had been born her carbon copy, I still wouldn’t have her spirit. There was just something about Claire that made people smile.
Claire squatted down to greet Maya. “Hello, my love. Is it a hugging day?”
“No,” Maya said bluntly without the slightest trace of empathy.
“Then I’ll wave.” Claire wiggled her fingers and then rose to her full height.
Most days were not hugging days for Maya. I had to hand it to my family. They might trample all over my boundaries, but they respected Maya’s. Of course, we had never been a physically affectionate family anyway, so Maya’s aversion to touch was an easy cross for them to bear. The days where Maya attached herself to me like Velcro were honestly much harder.
“You’re late, Jane.”
Mom glided into the foyer in a belted midi dress and low heels, her hair—the same dark-red shade as Claire’s—tucked into an elegant chignon. It was only when she air-kissed my cheek that I got a faint whiff of her gardenia perfume. Mom had a holy horror of strong scents.No one should ever smell you coming, even if you smell like a flower garden, she always said.It’s gauche.
“I’m not,” I protested. Even the earliest guests—the ones hand-selected to arrive first with talking points memorized so that the VIPs would be entertained by a party in full swing from the moment they stepped foot on the property—wouldn’t be here for another twenty minutes.
“You still have to get dressed, which means youwillbe late if you don’t hurry. Maya, darling, Maria will be around, and she’ll get you a snack when you’re hungry. I left a puzzle and brand-new sticker book for you in your room.”
Maya’s face lit up. “Amphibians?”
Mom’s nose twitched ever so slightly. She didn’t approve of amphibians. “Princess Diana.”
