“Well, I didn’t know that, so all this time, I sort of assumed you might be together.” She rounded the island to pick up the wine bottle, checking to make sure I’d left some. “But even if I hadn’t had time to come to terms with it,” she said, pouring herself a glass, “I don’t think the two of you together ever surprised me. Not at camp, and not in New York.”
Her point wasn’t lost on me. Perhaps Manning and I hadn’t always been fair to Tiffany, but it would be impossible to explain or reason away a love like ours. So instead, I just laid out the truth. “If it helps, it was never about hurting you. But Manning and I . . . we are, and always have been, so in love.”
She set her drink on the island and squatted to a cabinet to remove a cake stand—the same one my mom and I had used over the years for dessert. It was bizarre to picture Tiffany baking, but apparently, it wasn’t her first time. “Oh, I totally understand.”
Of all the reactions I’d expected to get from Tiffany, understanding was nowhere near the top of the list. It wasn’t even on the list. “You do?” I asked, failing to hide my surprise.
Smiling to herself, she ran her fingers under the lid of the tin, working it open. “Love makes you do crazy things.”
Was she serious, or passive-aggressively insulting me? “Yes, it does,” I said. “And I know this can’t be easy for you, but like I said, we had no intention of—”
“All right already,” she said. “I don’t care. This whole thing is, like, ancient history. I have more important things happening in my life.”
“Oh.” Well, that was different. Or was it? Only one thing could distract Tiffany from talking about herself—and that was talking about herself. “What’s . . . happening in your life?”
She opened a draw to get a pie server. “I met a man. A doctor.”
“You’re dating someone?” I asked.
“Dating?” She hummed a laugh as if enjoying an inside joke. “It seems like such a small word for what we’re doing.”
She’d just used the same word to describe Manning and me, so of course I understood how small it felt. He and I had done a lot but we hadn’t truly dated. Certainly that would be lost on Tiffany, though, especially because it seemed as if she’d forgotten I was even in the room. “Who is he?” I asked.
She transferred the pie to the cake plate. “Robby. You don’t know him, but he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. He’s tall and handsome. And a doctor.”
“You mentioned that.”
“Well, it says so much about who he is. Kind, caring, and great with kids . . .” She shifted her eyes over my shoulder and out the back window. I couldn’t help wondering if Robby really existed in all his perfection, or if this was another way for Tiffany to get a leg up on me. I was in love? She was in more love. I’d met the best man in the world? Well, hers was a doctor.
Even with the adoring look on her face, I wasn’t entirely sure it was genuine. It couldn’t be easy to see me with Manning. Was she talking Robby up to make herself look better? Or was she so enamored, she really didn’t give a shit what we did?
“I’m happy for you.” I relaxed my hip against the counter. “How long have you been together?” I asked with a sip of Pinot.
“Over a year. I’ve never been happier. I literally don’t even care about stupid stuff anymore, you know? Robby always says drama is below us.”
I nearly spit out my wine. But without drama, who was my sister? “I need to meet Robby.”
“He’s wonderful,” Mom said, reentering the kitchen.
I eyed her armfuls of canned goods. “You felt a sudden need to clean out the pantry?”
“I remembered that Robby asked me to donate some food to a drive at the hospital,” she said, averting her eyes.
“Right.” Surely, it had nothing to do with wanting to stay out of the fray. I looked for Manning again as Tiffany brushed by me.
“I should say hello,” she said, pulling open the sliding glass door.
I started to follow her when my mom touched my arm. “Give them a minute, sweetie.”
“Manning might need me there.”
“You did it on your own,” Mom said. “So can he. Let your sister process this how she needs to.”
Reluctantly, I returned to the window to watch them. “Is Robby real?” I asked.
She laughed. “Completely. He’s a very nice man. And a doctor! He’s patient with her—just what she needs.”
“Hmm.” I gripped the sink as Manning blew on a dusty light bulb, then screwed it back in. He paused and turned as Tiffany approached. They exchanged a few words, and then he offered her a cigarette, cupping his hand around her mouth as he lit it for her. Tiffany’s shoulders fell from around her ears as she cocked a hip. Manning took a drag, smiling a little as he nodded and blew smoke into the backyard. No longer in the same room as Tiffany, relief filtered through me, and it looked as if she felt the same.
She nudged his shoulder with a laugh, then glanced in my direction. Even though Manning and I had ended up together, and I couldn’t feel anything other than grateful for it, Tiffany had shared one experience with Manning I still hadn’t.
I turned away from the window to face the pies. “Do you have another cake plate?”
“I don’t,” Mom said, frowning. “Sorry, honey. We’ll get both on the table tonight, though.”
I lifted the cover and inspected Tiffany’s baking skills. Apple—Manning’s second favorite flavor. It smelled amazing. “This isn’t store-bought?” I asked.
“I’d be surprised. Tiffany loves to bake.”
“There’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.” I re-covered the dessert. I’d always considered the kitchen my domain, but it looked like if I came home again, I’d be sharing it.
Manning slid open the kitchen door for Tiffany, who removed her shrug on her way out of the kitchen.
Noticing my half-empty glass, he picked up the bottle of wine I’d been drinking from the last half hour on his way over to me. “You good?” he asked under his breath.
“I think so.”
“Yeah?” he asked, refilling my drink. “Did it not go well? She was weirdly calm out there.”
“No, she was fine. I was so shocked that I’m not even sure I remember what we talked about. But . . .”
“Dinner’s ready. Go tell your father.” Mom paused while separating dinner rolls into a basket, as if suddenly recalling this wasn’t just another Sunday dinner. “Never mind. I’ll get him.”
Once Manning and I were alone, he asked, “But what? What’s the matter?”
“It’s strange to see you and Tiffany together. She seems so comfortable with you.”
He set down the bottle and took my jaw in one big hand, lifting my face to him. “That’s good, Lake. Trust me, I’ve never seen her and I would know—she’s in love.”
“With a doctor,” I added.
He laughed. “Yeah. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us beyond making sure we know what he does for a living. She isn’t looking to cause us any trouble.”
As he leaned in for a kiss, I checked that we were still alone. “That’s probably not appropriate,” I told him.
“Lake,” he said in the same firm but exasperated tone he used whenever I pulled away from him.
“You can wait until we’re home.”
With a frown, he let me go. “If I can’t kiss you, then you better tell me what I want to hear.”
“I love you,” I said. “Isn’t putting myself through this evidence of that?”
“Hate having to keep my fucking hands off you again. It’s like I’m twenty-goddamn-three all over again.”
Despite his earnest expression, I couldn’t help laughing. “It really is funny if you think about it, us being here.”
“Hilarious.” He stuck his hands in his pockets as my dad entered the kitchen with Mom and Tiffany trailing behind him.
“Hmm,” Dad said, circling the island. “Pie . . .”
I figured that was the
best I could hope for. He wasn’t red in the face or kicking us out or locking himself in his study—not yet, anyway. “With blueberries,” I added.
“With apples,” Tiffany said.
“In the same pie?” he asked.
Tiffany’s giggle caused one to bubble up in me as well, but I swallowed it down, still unsure of how to read everyone’s mood.
“No, Daddy,” Tiffany said, fluttering her lashes. “I made apple, Lake brought blueberry. You have to choose.”
He grunted before leaving the kitchen. I knew before I heard the clink of glass on glass in the den that he was pouring himself a drink. “Well, go on,” he called, as if he could sense our unease from the next room. “Let’s sit and eat your mother’s dinner.”
“Robby loves apple pie,” Tiffany said. She and I gravitated right to our regular seats at the table, as if no time had passed. “That’s why I made it.”
“He’s coming tonight?” I asked.
“No. We were walking out the door when he got a page. He’s on call a lot.”
“What kind of doctor is he?” Manning asked, setting my refilled wineglass in front of me.
“A pediatrician,” she quipped. “Did I not mention that?”
A-ha. Patience was a requirement of Robby’s job. “No wonder,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing,” Manning answered for me, helping me scoot my chair closer to the table before he sat. “He must like kids.”
“He does,” she said. “It’s all he can talk about.”
Manning put an arm around the back of my chair. One thing he’d asked of me today was that I didn’t talk about our decision to have children. He liked that it only belonged to us for now, and I agreed. By the way he squeezed my shoulder, he must’ve known what was coming.
“Oh, grandbabies,” my mom gushed as she carried dishes into the dining room. She waited until my dad was at the table to place one in front of him.
“What the hell are those?” he asked.
“Your daughter made it,” she said as she returned to the kitchen. “Something different to spice up our table.”
“They’re tamales,” I said.
“Mexican food?” Dad asked. “You brought them?”
“You don’t have to eat them,” Tiffany said to him. “But they actually smell pretty good.”
“I’m with Robby, you know,” Mom said, floating back into the room with the roast. “I can’t wait for both of you girls to have babies.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be far off.” Dad picked up the carving knife. “Manning here has just asked for my blessing to marry Lake.”
7
With my eyes on my empty plate, I couldn’t tell if the silence following my dad’s declaration was surprise or something else. Announcing our impending wedding was part of the reason we were here, but I’d assumed Manning would be the one to bring it up.
Manning cleared his throat. “I want nothing more than to marry Lake,” he said. “She’s practically my wife already. It’s just a matter of making it official, and we’d love for you all to be there.”
Tiffany snorted. “This is beyond twisted. You know that, don’t you?”
I looked at Manning as he shrugged, then to my sister. I sat up a little straighter. “It is what it is.”
“Goodness.” Mom passed rosemary-roasted potatoes to Tiffany. “Charles, serve the turkey.”
He stood and slid the roast in front him. “Who wants a leg?” he asked and flipped on the electric knife.
My mom frowned as she started the rotation of side dishes. “That’s big news after barely hearing from you for so long,” she yelled as my dad carved.
“I know.” I accepted a bowl of broccoli. “I’m sorry it’s sudden for you, but it isn’t for us.”
“We don’t even know what your life is like,” Mom said, frowning. “I thought you were living in Pomona.”
“Part of the week. On weekends and holidays, I go home.”
“What?” Dad sliced off breast meat. “Home?”
“To Manning,” I enunciated. “And our place in Big Bear.”
My dad turned to Manning, pointing the whirring knife in his direction. After a few tense seconds, he shut it off. “All these years?”
“I would’ve mentioned it sooner, sir,” Manning said, “but Lake and I needed our privacy.”
“That’s fine. All fine.” Dad shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”
Except it did. His play of indifference wasn’t convincing. Frustrating as it was that he couldn’t own up to his feelings, it also made me grateful I’d come today. I hadn’t wanted to do this, but I could see my dad cared about his relationship with Manning, just as Manning did. “Manning is the reason I’m here tonight,” I said, serving myself a tamale. “Your approval means a lot to him. He wants to be part of this family again.”
“We know that, honey,” Mom said, taking my hand across the table. “We know you want that, too, and I promise it makes us nothing but ecstatic. Of course you have our blessing—”
“Cathy.”
“What, Charles?” She barely spared him a glance before continuing. “I wouldn’t miss the wedding for the world. I want to be part of it, though. I—we—want to know more about who you are now.”
I went stiff. I didn’t know where to begin, or how to get things back to what they were—yet my mom looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to spill my guts. “Right now?” I asked.
“Let’s start with having a nice meal together tonight,” Manning said, one arm back around my chair as he accepted a platter of sliced turkey with the other. “We’ll go from there.”
Grateful for the save, I put my hand on Manning’s thigh, even though it also meant eating one-handed. “We don’t need an answer now,” I said.
“We just wanted to let you know our plans,” Manning added.
“Let’s see the ring,” Tiffany said.
I’d told Manning I’d wear the mood ring for now, knowing how he worried about money. I didn’t need more than that anyway. I doubted Tiffany would understand, though, so I said, “We’re putting that money into the wedding.”
“No ring?” she asked. “Are you serious?”
“If your sister doesn’t want a ring, that’s fine,” my mom said, batting her lashes at Manning. “But it is a nice symbol of your devotion to each other, even if it’s something small.”
“I’ll take that into consideration,” Manning said.
“How’s school?” Dad asked just as I had taken a bite—not that he’d notice since he continued to look anywhere but at me.
Still, it was akin to me taking a step into this house. Dad was opening a door long closed, not only accepting my presence but inviting me in. Swallowing my food with a sip of water, I shivered when Tiffany’s knife scraped the china. “It’s great,” I said. “By this time next year, I’ll be a licensed vet.”
“She’s one of the top students in her program,” Manning said.
“I should hope so.” Dad cut his turkey breast, nodding. “She’ll be thankful for years of focused study when she’s slicing Fido open on her operating table.”
“Dad,” Tiffany said, making a face.
“What?” he asked. “You better get used to it if you’re going to marry a doctor.”
“Marry?” Tiffany perked up, grinning. “Did Robby say something to you?”
“No,” Dad barked. “You remind me at every Sunday dinner that you plan to be married by the end of next year.”
She put an elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “I do.”
As cautious as I was about rejoining this family, there was some comfort in their bickering. My dad was still unapologetically himself, but at the root of it, he cared.
“Anyway,” I continued, “I’ll spend the next few months interviewing with a couple animal hospitals in Big Bear, but eventually I want to open my own practice.”
He raised his tumbler. “What you should’v
e been doing from the start,” he said.
“Maybe,” I conceded. “I just had to figure that out on my own.”
Dad continued eating. He didn’t smile at that, but his frown eased completely. “We’re not paying for the wedding,” he said, looking between my sister and me. “Either one.”
Money hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d thought getting him to acknowledge our presence long enough to hear there was a wedding would be the one and only topic on tonight’s agenda.
“I’ll be fine,” Tiffany said. “I learned my lesson the first time thinking money wasn’t as important as love. Not having it can cause major problems.” She popped a potato in her mouth. “That’s why I made finding a wealthy man a priority! I never realized I could have both.”
I studied my sister’s body language—her contented sighs, tiny smiles, the pink tinge of her cheeks—to decide whether she was bluffing about her relationship. “I could’ve told you years ago you needed someone with money,” I said.
“As could I,” Manning added. “And I did. Several times.”
Tiffany shrugged off our comments. Manning, on the other hand, forked a broccoli stem so hard, it tumbled over the side of the plate. His heavy brows made me wonder if Tiffany had hurt his feelings by implying he hadn’t financially supported her the way she’d needed. Though her comment had been rude and thoughtless, I hadn’t thought she still had the power to get under his skin.
Turning back to the table, I said, “We’re fine to pay for our wedding. Money isn’t an issue for us. The ceremony will be pretty small and intimate—” I glanced at Manning when he removed his arm from the back of my chair. “But even if it wasn’t, we’d be fine. Manning’s furniture sells very well.”
“Even in this economy?” Dad asked.
Manning cleared his throat. “I do fine.”
“That’s what I was saying.” I tried to catch his gaze, but he kept it forward. “You have more business than you know what to do with.”
“Then you’ve got a solid empire there. Men my age are losing their jobs—and savings—with this recession.” Dad scratched his jaw. “I’ve been telling you for years you need help.”
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