The Moonglow Sisters

by Lori Wilde

  “I’m exhausted,” Darynda said. “I need to feed my dogs. Besides, you three should catch up. Alone.”

  Yes, the thing Shelley dreaded most. Being alone with her sisters.

  Darynda waved and drove away.

  Without looking back, Madison grabbed her wheeled luggage and walked up the porch steps to unlock the front door.

  Gia and Shelley followed her inside. Madison flicked on lights as she went. It was almost six P.M., but sunset was still over an hour away.

  “Are there guests at the inn?” Shelley asked.

  “I don’t think so but let me check her calendar.” Gia went to the check-in desk and flipped open the monthly calendar to May. Grammy still kept a physical reservation book as well as computer booking software. No reservations for the entire month. “Nope, I’m assuming since Gram knew about the surgery, she proactively shut things down.”

  Without speaking, Madison lurched stiff-legged out onto the porch. Shelley exchanged glances with Gia, who shrugged and trailed after Madison.

  Shelley went too. What else could she do?

  Madison plunked down on the right side of the porch swing, her usual spot, and Gia took the middle, settling in beside her.

  Shelley did not sit with them as she once would have.

  Instead, she shrugged off her backpack, dropped it to the porch, and settled into Grammy’s Adirondack chair several feet from her sisters. So many times, Grammy had sat in this chair, hand sewing quilt squares or snapping black-eyed peas or peeling Moonglow pears, watching over them while they rocked on the porch swing.

  No one said anything.

  Finally, Gia cleared her throat. “There’s something you guys need to see.”

  “What is it?” Madison asked.

  Gia reached into the pocket of her lightweight cover-up and pulled out a letter. She passed it to Madison, who opened it with a well-manicured fingernail.

  Shelley stared down at her own fingernails, broken and jagged from physical labor. Her hair was messy as well. Dry and frizzy with split ends. Where she’d been, there wasn’t a beauty salon within fifty miles, and her hair hadn’t seen scissors in five years. Mindlessly, she dragged a strand of hair up through her fingers to stare at the split ends in the dappled sunlight.

  Silently, Madison read the letter, and then looked up, her face impassive, before handing it to Shelley.

  As Shelley read, her heartbeat jumped in her chest.

  The letter was a plea to Gia. Grammy’s last request. Finish the quilt. Repair the rift. Sew. Heal. Bloom. Grow.

  The words seemed to swell, expanding until they floated off the page above the rest of the text, flooding Shelley with emotional waves so big she could hardly breathe. The letter was clear. Grammy was dying, and she knew it.

  “This isn’t right,” Madison said. “She should have addressed the letter to me. I’m the oldest.”

  “Says here . . .” Shelley held up the letter and tried her best not to smirk. “That only Gia can mend things.”

  Madison glowered and toyed with the crystal pendant she wore, dragging it back and forth across the chain.

  It was all Shelley could do not to stick out her tongue. What was it about being home that made her feel so childish?

  “We’ve got to finish the quilt,” Gia said. “To honor Grammy and straighten things out between us.”

  “Good grief.” Madison shot Shelley a scathing glance. “As if sewing a quilt together could solve anything.”

  “So you won’t do it?” Gia shifted on the swing, angling her body away from Madison.

  “I don’t see the point.” Maddie drummed her glossy pink fingernails on the arm of the swing slow and controlled—thump, thump, thumpity, thump.

  The repetitive noise set Shelley’s teeth on edge.

  “But it’s Grammy’s last request.” Gia looked distressed and speared her fingers through her hair.

  “You can’t force people to do things, Gia,” Shelley said. “If Madison doesn’t want to finish the quilt, she doesn’t want to finish the quilt. You and I can finish it.”

  “I don’t need you defending me, Shelley,” Madison snapped.

  “Stop it.” Gia hopped to her feet. At five three, she was the shortest, but with her shadow growing long in the gathering dusk, she looked bigger than them both. “I ask very little from you two. I believe in live and let live. I don’t get mixed up in your business. But Grammy is dying. She might never wake from the coma.”

  “If Grammy dies, then there’s no point to finishing the quilt. She wouldn’t know whether we completed it or not.” Shelley chuffed.

  “I’d know.” Gia narrowed her eyes and folded her arms over her chest.

  “Grammy will pull through.” Madison smacked a fist against her thigh and glared lasers at Shelley.

  “We have to finish the quilt,” Gia said. “For Grammy.”

  “Look.” Madison hooked one hand around the porch swing chain. “The world doesn’t rest on your shoulders. It’ll keep turning without you taking on everyone else’s burdens.”

  “What are you saying?” Gia paced in a tight circle around the Adirondack chairs, stepping over Shelley’s feet each time she passed.

  Shelley crossed her ankles, tucked her feet underneath the chair.

  “Grammy can’t expect us to drop our lives to sew a quilt. I have responsibilities. I’m on TV.”

  Oh yeah, rub our noses in it. Shelley rolled her eyes.

  Gia stopped directly in front of Madison, arms akimbo, face fierce. “So, you refuse to finish the quilt.”

  “I’m saying I won’t work with her.” Madison threw a stony stare in Shelley’s direction. “If you want to finish the quilt, I’ll be happy to do it with you, but only you.”

  “Reconsider, please,” Gia begged.

  “I can’t even . . .” Madison stood up, stalked off down the steps, and headed toward the beach.

  Shelley had had enough. She leaped to her feet, chased after her. Got in front of Madison and stopped her in her tracks. “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what else I can do. I’m sorry. I’m prepared to make amends. I’ll do whatever it takes, but you’ve got to forgive me.”

  Pain haunted Madison’s eyes. “I don’t . . . I can’t.”

  “You’re the one hanging on to the grudge. It was five damn years ago. Raoul is long gone. And from what Gia told me, you have a great life in New York because you didn’t marry him. So really, you should thank me. Besides, I’m a different person now.”

  Madison’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you really, Shelley? Who showed up here broke ass and expecting me to pay her two-hundred-dollar taxi bill?”

  “There were extenuating circumstances you know nothing about and I will pay you back.”

  “With you, there are always extenuating circumstances.”

  “Nothing is always, Maddie. That’s an exaggeration and you’re using it to get a rise out of me.” Shelley’s nostrils flared.

  They toed off, hands on their hips, eyes locked on each other.

  Shelley heard Gia storm off. The screen door slammed. Guilt played up her spine, but embroiled, she couldn’t reel in her anger.

  Breathe.

  Shelley forced a long inhale, drawing air down into the base of her lungs to the count of four the way Guru Meyer had coached her. Held her breath for seven seconds. Exhaled to the mental count of eight.

  Madison’s face was a mask, her mouth set in a harsh line.

  “What’s it gonna take?” Shelley asked. “How do I earn your forgiveness?”

  “You really want to know?” Madison snorted.

  “I do.”

  “Go back to Costa Rica. It’s where you belong.”

  The screen door slammed again. Gia stalked from the house, the offending quilt tucked underneath her arm. The weight of the queen-size quilt threw her off balance, causing her to list to the right as she thundered across the lawn toward them.

  Nostrils flaring and sweat pearling along the neck of her cover-up, Gia
reached the middle of the yard where Shelley and Madison stood arguing. Baring her teeth like a mad little puppy, she unfurled the quilt with a quick, hard snap of her wrists and spread it out on the grass.

  “Listen here, you two.” Gia growled. “We will finish this quilt. All three of us. Together.”

  “I’m happy to do it,” Shelley said. “But Madison is so unforgiving. Like she’s Miss Perfect.”

  “Shelley can say she’s sorry all she wants, but actions speak louder than words. Until I see it, I don’t believe her.” Madison snorted.

  “What will get you both on board?” Gia asked.

  “Face it. You’re not magical. You can’t fix everything.” Madison shook her head. “No matter what Grammy says in that letter. Some things are beyond your control.”

  “Look at this quilt.” Gia crouched to run a finger along the border of the material. “We were so close to having it finished—”

  “And then Shelley made out with my fiancé in the butler’s pantry,” Madison snarled. “On my wedding day!”

  “Only because you wouldn’t listen when I told you Raoul was a sleazebag.” Shelley raised her palms.

  “If I wanted to marry a cheater, that was my business.”

  “If you wanted to marry a cheater, why didn’t you go right ahead and marry him?” Shelley shouted.

  “Why didn’t you bang his brains out while you had the chance?”

  “I didn’t want him, Maddie.”

  “No, that’s right, you just wanted to humiliate me. You were always taking what didn’t belong to you,” Madison accused. “You took my clothes, my shoes, and my fiancé. All you ever cared about was yourself.”

  “Me?” Shelley splayed a hand to her chest. “Who—”

  “Stop it!” Gia yelled, jumping between them. “Stop it right now!”

  Simultaneously, they stared at her.

  “Look at this quilt.” Gia’s voice quivered. “And remember when we worked on it together. How happy we were. Back when we were the Moonglow sisters.”

  “Before Shelley ruined everything.” Madison tossed her head.

  “Maddie,” Gia pleaded. “You’ve got to forgive her.”

  “I do not.” The wind whipped Madison’s cool blond hair over her shoulder, making her look like Helen of Troy launching ships.

  Madison was easily the prettiest of them with her elegant beauty. A throwback to sleek, chic Grace Kelly. Blue eyes and pale blond hair, willowy and well put together.

  Although Shelley did look the most like their late mother, next to Madison, Shelley felt like a mud hen. Her hair was neither cool platinum like Madison’s, who’d taken after the Chapmans, nor rich gold like Gia’s, who resembled the Clarks, but rather a muddled shade somewhere between blond and light brown. Hairdressers called it dishwater blond or sandy brown or brond. It meant she didn’t fit in any camp. It was the same with her eyes. They were a sort of brown and a sort of green combining in an odd mosaic of hazel.

  Declaring that Shelley kissed Raoul because she felt insecure about her looks and she was trying to prove she was sexier than Madison was one of the meaner accusations that she’d ever flung at Shelley.

  Maybe she was insecure, but that wasn’t why she’d kissed Raoul. She’d wanted to wake Madison up and get her to see the huge mistake she was making. Shelley had zero interest in a slick social climber like Raoul, no matter how handsome he might have been.

  Oh God, why had she kissed him? She should’ve just let Maddie marry the guy. They would have divorced by now and she and Madison wouldn’t be eyeing each other like cage fighters.

  “But Grammy . . .” Gia whimpered.

  “What about Grammy?” Madison hardened her jaw, not budging an inch.

  “The quilt means everything to her,” Gia said. “We have to finish it and we have to do it together.”

  “You’re acting like finishing the quilt will save Grammy from cancer. It won’t,” Madison said, contradicting what she’d said earlier. Face flushing bright red, Madison stalked up the yard to the barbecue grill, grabbed it by the handle, and dragged it clanging down the lawn toward the beach.

  “What are you doing?” Gia ran after her.

  Feeling gobsmacked, Shelley just stared.

  Madison parked the grill at the edge of the water and returned to snatch the quilt from the lawn.

  “Maddie!” Gia ran in circles like a panicked puppy. Pyewacket sprinted across the yard and climbed a pear tree.

  Their older sister’s expression was determined and angry. Passersby strolling the beach stopped to watch the drama.

  Madison flipped open the barbecue lid and stuffed the quilt onto the grill. “It’s my damn wedding quilt. I get to destroy it. The way Shelley destroyed my wedding.”

  “Help me, Shelley!” Gia cried.

  “Madison, stop.” Shelley ran over to the grill.

  “Get away from me.” Madison shouldered her aside.

  “Don’t do this. Please, it’s upsetting Gia,” Shelley begged. “Stop and I’ll leave.”

  Fury-driven, Madison reached into the cabinet at the bottom of the grill and pulled out a bottle of lighter fluid. Flipping the cap up, she soaked the quilt with it.

  “Stop, Maddie, stop!” Gia grabbed hold of Madison’s arm.

  “Let go.” Madison howled and yanked away from her. She fumbled for the lighter. Flicked it. A small blue flame shot from the end.

  “No!” Gia yanked for the quilt, dragging it off the grill.

  But Madison’s rage had momentum and bulk. She body-checked Gia with her hip and sent her tumbling to the sand.

  Gia lay on her back gasping for air, the lighter-fluid-soaked quilt locked in her arms.

  “Madison!” Shelley said, horrified. “Stop, stop, stop. I’m the one you’re angry at, not Gia. Take it out on me. Not her.”

  Madison sank to her knees in front of Gia, tears tracking down her face. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  “Are you okay?” Shelley knelt beside her sisters on the sand.

  Gia nodded, the smell of lighter fluid pungent around them. She looked like the kid she used to be when she carried her baby quilt around with her everywhere. She would suck her thumb and hang on to that quilt for dear life. On wash days, she and Grammy got into a tug-of-war. Grammy always won, but Gia would sit on the laundry room floor and not move a muscle until she got her quilt back.

  Beachgoers gave them curious looks. Joggers. Couples holding hands. People reeling in kites. Mothers folding beach blankets and gathering up children. The tide was rising. Along the shoreline lights flickered on against the gathering dusk. Toe-tapping music filled the air. Water lapped at the legs of the barbecue grill.

  If someone captured this moment in a Pinterest snapshot people would ask, What’s the deal with the barbecue grill? It was out of context. Like Shelley herself.

  “Can you sit up?” Shelley asked.

  “I’m so sorry.” Madison stroked Gia’s hair. “I didn’t mean to knock you down.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Shelley glowered. “She’s tiny. It’s a wonder she doesn’t blow away when she flies her kites.”

  “Oh, that’s rich.” Madison snorted. “You’re jumping on me?”

  “Stop it,” Gia said. “Both of you. If you’re really sorry, you’ll help me finish the quilt.”

  “That’s a big ask,” Madison said.

  “Look at us fighting.” The wind tossed Shelley’s unfettered hair into her face and she battled it back, stabbing her fingers through the mess. “How do you expect us to sit across from each other quilting for hours on end, Gia?”

  “Why does this mean so much to you and Grammy?” Madison asked.

  “Because the quilt is a symbol of when we were together. When things were good,” Gia murmured, sadness in her eyes.

  “Gia, I don’t mean to be contrary, but we’d be sewing a quilt for a ruined wedding. To finish it would rub salt in my wounds.” Maddie bit her bottom lip. “Is that what yo
u want? To hurt me?”

  Fear lit up Gia’s eyes. Why? If Madison didn’t want to finish the damn quilt, even for their dying grandmother, then fine.

  “There is a reason for us to finish the quilt beyond Grammy’s request. More than just getting us back together.”

  “What’s that?” Madison rocked on her butt in the sand. “Why?”

  “Why?” Gia said. “Because I’m getting married.”

  Chapter Six

  Gia

  EMBELLISHMENT: Adding decorative items or stitches to a quilt top.

  YOU’RE ENGAGED?” SHELLEY’S gaze flew to Gia’s bare ring finger. All three sat cross-legged on the sand in an unintentional circle.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Who’s the groom?” Maddie asked.

  Finally, Gia had their full attention, and they weren’t at each other’s throat. She could yank the plug on her lie and tell the truth, put a stop to this before it got out of hand, but both her larger-than-life older sisters—who’d tucked her in the sweet-girl-family-cheerleader-don’t-rock-the-boat box years ago—were suddenly watching her with surprise and respect. It went to Gia’s head like the dandelion wine she’d first gotten drunk on when she was eighteen.

  Still, the deception went against her code of conduct and the rules she lived by. Treat others the way you want them to treat you. Don’t lie if you don’t want to be lied to.

  “You didn’t just make this up to stop us from fighting?” Shelley’s mouth slanted in suspicion.

  “Um . . .” Gia gnawed her bottom lip, and she anchored her gaze on the quilt. A fresh lie came to her fully formed. Not a small white lie, but a great big fat golden one. Shining like the Holy Grail. A solution. “Mike. He’s the one. He’s my fiancé.”

  “Mike Straus from next door?” Madison’s mouth dropped open and her eyes lit up. “You’re kidding.”

  “Why? What’s so weird about that? Yep, it’s Mike. Mike’s the one. But it’s new. Really, really new. We-haven’t-told-anyone-else-yet new.” Her lie shifted like quicksand dragging her into boggy depths with nothing to latch on to but more sand.

  “How new?” Madison asked. “A day? A week? A month?”