minute now. When I’m least expecting it. Or after I’ve been expecting it for more than an hour and I’m trying to trick myself into thinking it won’t happen. Any minute….
She walked a few steps behind her mother, into the sunny kitchen where the cobalt blue and stark white color scheme, with pops of lemon yellow, carried on that crisp, cool look of her mother. Charlotte, looking pink and motherly, glanced up from her perch by the window. She smiled their mother’s smile. Her hair was the same blonde as their mother’s lovely hair. In fact it fell to her shoulders in perfect, straight strands.
Chesney allowed her eyes to meet her sister’s gaze and she was immediately filled with envy. That twinge was accompanied by an odd ache like the one Chesney experienced in elementary school when other girls left her out of recess games. Definitely, she was the outsider here. Between the two tall, perfect, skinny blonde women, Chesney was the family dwarf, the family misfit with the ridiculous hair. She felt the need to drum up an old fantasy. That she would one day learn she was adopted and that her real family would search for her and love her quirks, such as the hatred of coffee and wine. They would embrace her fuzzy hair because they too had fuzzy hair. There would be a tearful group hug and they would promise to be extra loving when she blundered.
Charlotte cocked her head to the side and said it. “Hello, Chez. Where’s Jack?”
Damn it.
Chesney scanned the kitchen, expecting to see her perfect sister’s words bounce around on the counter tops like ping pong balls. She braced herself, waiting for Charlotte to grab the kitchen light, shine it on her face and begin the interrogation. Where was Jack? How much money does he make? Was it true that he owns both a Jag and a Lexus? Why didn’t Jack drive the Range Rover anymore? What about the property Jack bought in Costa Rica? When could the family plan to stay there? How much did the engagement ring cost?
“Jack couldn’t be here today,” Chesney said quickly.
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Jack really couldn’t be there or anywhere in Chesney’s company. She hated him. But she left out that fact. She averted her eyes from her sister’s puzzled gaze and turned her attention to Piper. Charlotte’s tow-headed gift to the family gurgled happily in the high chair next to Charlotte. She kicked her pudgy little legs and grabbed at a few Cheerios with pudgy hands curled into fists. Chesney smiled, noting that Piper was the only other family member with short legs like hers.
“Hello Sweet,” she cooed at the baby girl. Piper’s eyes were such a beautiful gray, exactly the color of Aunt Chesney’s eyes and grandmother Grace’s eyes. Fringed with long, soft lashes, and filled with wonder, the baby blinked up at Chesney. And for a moment, Chesney considered crying when she noticed that Piper’s nearly bald little head was covered with wispy blonde duck down. Piper might grow up to be petite like her aunt. But Chesney was brought to tears, so grateful that Piper’s hair would be like her mom’s and her grandma’s hair, not like the curly mess her aunt wrestled with every day of her life. In the back of her heart, Chesney realized that she was grieving already about the the fact that sweet little Piper wouldn’t belong on her team, either. Still, Chesney was a Blake without an island.
Piper will be on the pretty side of the Blake family portrait.
“My sweet grandbaby makes the biggest mess with one single cookie,” Madelyn said as she took a swipe at the Piper’s face with a soft towel.
“Isn’t she the most beautiful child in the world, Chesney?” Charlotte asked.
“Of course,” Chesney nodded. “She’s an angel, Charlotte.”
And she meant that. Piper was a stunning baby. Chesney ached to hold her, rock her, love her. But at the same time, that familiar twinge of guilt and failure rose in her throat. As the oldest daughter in the family, she was
She walked a few steps behind her mother, into the sunny kitchen where the cobalt blue and stark white color scheme, with pops of lemon yellow, carried on that crisp, cool look of her mother. Charlotte, looking pink and motherly, glanced up from her perch by the window. She smiled their mother’s smile. Her hair was the same blonde as their mother’s lovely hair. In fact it fell to her shoulders in perfect, straight strands.
Chesney allowed her eyes to meet her sister’s gaze and she was immediately filled with envy. That twinge was accompanied by an odd ache like the one Chesney experienced in elementary school when other girls left her out of recess games. Definitely, she was the outsider here. Between the two tall, perfect, skinny blonde women, Chesney was the family dwarf, the family misfit with the ridiculous hair. She felt the need to drum up an old fantasy. That she would one day learn she was adopted and that her real family would search for her and love her quirks, such as the hatred of coffee and wine. They would embrace her fuzzy hair because they too had fuzzy hair. There would be a tearful group hug and they would promise to be extra loving when she blundered.
Charlotte cocked her head to the side and said it. “Hello, Chez. Where’s Jack?”
Damn it.
Chesney scanned the kitchen, expecting to see her perfect sister’s words bounce around on the counter tops like ping pong balls. She braced herself, waiting for Charlotte to grab the kitchen light, shine it on her face and begin the interrogation. Where was Jack? How much money does he make? Was it true that he owns both a Jag and a Lexus? Why didn’t Jack drive the Range Rover anymore? What about the property Jack bought in Costa Rica? When could the family plan to stay there? How much did the engagement ring cost?
“Jack couldn’t be here today,” Chesney said quickly.
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Jack really couldn’t be there or anywhere in Chesney’s company. She hated him. But she left out that fact. She averted her eyes from her sister’s puzzled gaze and turned her attention to Piper. Charlotte’s tow-headed gift to the family gurgled happily in the high chair next to Charlotte. She kicked her pudgy little legs and grabbed at a few Cheerios with pudgy hands curled into fists. Chesney smiled, noting that Piper was the only other family member with short legs like hers.
“Hello Sweet,” she cooed at the baby girl. Piper’s eyes were such a beautiful gray, exactly the color of Aunt Chesney’s eyes and grandmother Grace’s eyes. Fringed with long, soft lashes, and filled with wonder, the baby blinked up at Chesney. And for a moment, Chesney considered crying when she noticed that Piper’s nearly bald little head was covered with wispy blonde duck down. Piper might grow up to be petite like her aunt. But Chesney was brought to tears, so grateful that Piper’s hair would be like her mom’s and her grandma’s hair, not like the curly mess her aunt wrestled with every day of her life. In the back of her heart, Chesney realized that she was grieving already about the the fact that sweet little Piper wouldn’t belong on her team, either. Still, Chesney was a Blake without an island.
Piper will be on the pretty side of the Blake family portrait.
“My sweet grandbaby makes the biggest mess with one single cookie,” Madelyn said as she took a swipe at the Piper’s face with a soft towel.
“Isn’t she the most beautiful child in the world, Chesney?” Charlotte asked.
“Of course,” Chesney nodded. “She’s an angel, Charlotte.”
And she meant that. Piper was a stunning baby. Chesney ached to hold her, rock her, love her. But at the same time, that familiar twinge of guilt and failure rose in her throat. As the oldest daughter in the family, she was
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