Sydney said. “She has very firm opinions on where things belong.”
“So that explains it. I asked her to get me a fork and she went right to the drawer. When I asked her how she knew it was there, she said because that’s where it belonged.” Claire looked at Bay thoughtfully.
“No,” Sydney said. “It’s not that. Don’t force that on her.”
“I wasn’t,” Claire said, and she seemed hurt. “And no one forced it on you. In fact, you ran as far away as you could from it and no one stopped you.”
“The whole town forced it on me! I tried to be normal and no one would let me.” The pots hanging on the rack above the kitchen island began to sway anxiously, like an old woman wringing her hands. Sydney watched them swing for a moment, then she took a deep breath. She forgot how sensitive the house could be, how floorboards vibrated when people got mad, how windows opened when everyone laughed at once. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing right now. Bay, you can go too.” Claire untied Bay’s apron and took it off her. “Do you have a black skirt and white blouse to wear to help me serve tomorrow?” she asked Sydney.
“I have a white blouse,” Sydney said.
“You can borrow one of my skirts. Have you ever served before?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you did after you left? Waitressed?”
Sydney ushered Bay out of the kitchen. Running, stealing, men . Those had never been Claire’s areas of expertise. Sydney wasn’t going to tell Claire about her past. Not yet, anyway. It wasn’t something you shared with just anyone, not even your own sister, if you didn’t think she’d understand. “It was one of the things I did.”
Later that afternoon, Sydney sat on the front porch while Bay did cartwheels in the yard. She saw Evanelle come down the sidewalk and smiled. Evanelle was in a blue running suit, that familiar large tote bag over her shoulder. Sydney used to love to guess what was in it. She hoped Bay would love that too. There weren’t many high points to being a Waverley, but Evanelle was definitely one of them.
Evanelle stopped to talk with Tyler next door, who was in his front yard, contemplating a big clump of grass clippings. He was bored; Sydney recognized the signs. His hair was longish, obviously to hold down the natural curl. That meant he had a creative nature he tried to control, and he was trying to control it by spending most of his day raking a big pile of cut grass from one side of his yard to the other.
She couldn’t imagine ever wanting another relationship with a man after David, but looking at Tyler, her heart felt sort of strange. She didn’t want him, and he was clearly attracted to her sister, but the simple idea of a good man made her feel hopeful somehow. Maybe not for herself, but for other people, other women. Luckier women.
As soon as Evanelle left Tyler, Sydney hurried down the steps to meet her. “Evanelle!” she said as she embraced the old lady. “Claire told me you were stopping by. Oh, it’s good to see you. You look exactly the same.”
“Still old.”
“Still beautiful. What were you doing over there with Tyler?”
“Is that his name? He looked like he needed some lawn bags. Lucky I had some on me. He was real nice-like about it. Here’s his phone number.” She handed Sydney a small piece of notebook paper.
Sydney looked at the paper uncomfortably. “Evanelle, I’m not…I don’t want…”
Evanelle patted Sydney’s hand. “Oh, honey, I don’t know what you’re supposed to do with it. I just knew I had to give it to you. I’m not trying to set you up.”
Sydney laughed. What a relief.
“I have something else for you.” Evanelle rooted around in her tote bag for a moment, then handed Sydney a shopping bag with the name of an upscale shop on the square. Sydney remembered it well. Girls at school whose parents had money bought things at Maxine’s. Sydney used to work all summer in
“So that explains it. I asked her to get me a fork and she went right to the drawer. When I asked her how she knew it was there, she said because that’s where it belonged.” Claire looked at Bay thoughtfully.
“No,” Sydney said. “It’s not that. Don’t force that on her.”
“I wasn’t,” Claire said, and she seemed hurt. “And no one forced it on you. In fact, you ran as far away as you could from it and no one stopped you.”
“The whole town forced it on me! I tried to be normal and no one would let me.” The pots hanging on the rack above the kitchen island began to sway anxiously, like an old woman wringing her hands. Sydney watched them swing for a moment, then she took a deep breath. She forgot how sensitive the house could be, how floorboards vibrated when people got mad, how windows opened when everyone laughed at once. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing right now. Bay, you can go too.” Claire untied Bay’s apron and took it off her. “Do you have a black skirt and white blouse to wear to help me serve tomorrow?” she asked Sydney.
“I have a white blouse,” Sydney said.
“You can borrow one of my skirts. Have you ever served before?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you did after you left? Waitressed?”
Sydney ushered Bay out of the kitchen. Running, stealing, men . Those had never been Claire’s areas of expertise. Sydney wasn’t going to tell Claire about her past. Not yet, anyway. It wasn’t something you shared with just anyone, not even your own sister, if you didn’t think she’d understand. “It was one of the things I did.”
Later that afternoon, Sydney sat on the front porch while Bay did cartwheels in the yard. She saw Evanelle come down the sidewalk and smiled. Evanelle was in a blue running suit, that familiar large tote bag over her shoulder. Sydney used to love to guess what was in it. She hoped Bay would love that too. There weren’t many high points to being a Waverley, but Evanelle was definitely one of them.
Evanelle stopped to talk with Tyler next door, who was in his front yard, contemplating a big clump of grass clippings. He was bored; Sydney recognized the signs. His hair was longish, obviously to hold down the natural curl. That meant he had a creative nature he tried to control, and he was trying to control it by spending most of his day raking a big pile of cut grass from one side of his yard to the other.
She couldn’t imagine ever wanting another relationship with a man after David, but looking at Tyler, her heart felt sort of strange. She didn’t want him, and he was clearly attracted to her sister, but the simple idea of a good man made her feel hopeful somehow. Maybe not for herself, but for other people, other women. Luckier women.
As soon as Evanelle left Tyler, Sydney hurried down the steps to meet her. “Evanelle!” she said as she embraced the old lady. “Claire told me you were stopping by. Oh, it’s good to see you. You look exactly the same.”
“Still old.”
“Still beautiful. What were you doing over there with Tyler?”
“Is that his name? He looked like he needed some lawn bags. Lucky I had some on me. He was real nice-like about it. Here’s his phone number.” She handed Sydney a small piece of notebook paper.
Sydney looked at the paper uncomfortably. “Evanelle, I’m not…I don’t want…”
Evanelle patted Sydney’s hand. “Oh, honey, I don’t know what you’re supposed to do with it. I just knew I had to give it to you. I’m not trying to set you up.”
Sydney laughed. What a relief.
“I have something else for you.” Evanelle rooted around in her tote bag for a moment, then handed Sydney a shopping bag with the name of an upscale shop on the square. Sydney remembered it well. Girls at school whose parents had money bought things at Maxine’s. Sydney used to work all summer in
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