by Mary Carter
“Pizza!” Joy shouted. Then her eyes landed and locked on Hope.
Hope meant to start with “Hello” or a hug. Instead, the words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Why are you pretending to be homeless?”
“Shit.” The door slammed shut.
“Still got the pizza,” Hope said to the closed door.
“Where’s the za?” a male voice asked from within.
“With my psychotic sister,” Joy said.
Hope felt her face flush and she didn’t dare look at Austin. Soon she could feel his mouth near her ear. “Crazy women are the best,” he whispered. Hope laughed and finally looked at him. “She’s pretending to be homeless and I’m psychotic.”
Finally the door swung open. A handsome black man stood in front of Joy. He had a boyish face, the type of face you liked instantly. “Manny actually let you up?”
“I’m Hope,” she said, ignoring the question and handing him the pizza. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’ve seen you on Joy’s Facebook page,” Harrison said. “You’re the one who works with dogs.” He stepped back and Austin and Hope stepped in.
“Don’t let her in,” Joy said, hurrying away from them with the pizza.
“Already in,” said Hope. She stepped through a hallway and into the living room. There were floor-to-ceiling windows and a panoramic view of Seattle. The floors were pristine cherry and all the furniture was white. “My God.”
“His mother is a news anchor,” Joy said, opening the pizza on the gorgeous sofa. Hope wanted to yell at her not to eat on what appeared to be a twenty-thousand-dollar sofa.
“Why are you pretending to be homeless?” Hope asked.
Joy didn’t even look up as she dug into the pizza without a plate or napkin. She shook her head. “Let the lecture begin.”
“We were in Capitol Hill. I saw you begging for money. This is Austin. He gave you money. You took off on your bicycles—and here we are.”
“Man, I told you some dude was following us,” Harrison said. He grinned at them. “I made you, man. I made you.” Austin smiled and shrugged.
Joy lifted her head and considered Austin. “Thanks for the contribution, man. It’s going to a good cause.”
“Give it back,” Hope said.
Joy stared at Hope. “You’re always trying to shame me.”
“You were pretending to be homeless.”
“We’re saving for a coffee shop.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Hope said.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” Harrison said.
“Don’t bother,” Joy said.
“Tell me,” Hope said.
Joy stood up, articulating with her hands as she talked. “Do you know what the rest of those kids are doing with the money dropped into their cups? Taking drugs and drinking. I’m saving for a coffee shop. And I should be ashamed?”
“Why not take out a business loan?”
“I tried. They wouldn’t approve me.”
“Go back to college. Get a credit card and start building your credit.”
“Stop,” Joy said. “You’re not my mother. There’s no shame in being an entrepreneur.”
“You should earn the money, not pretend you’re homeless.”
Joy looked around the condo. “Technically this isn’t my home so I’m homeless.”
“I guess I’m not,” Harrison said. “But I’m dating a homeless girl, so I was just there for support.” He grinned.
“If you’re sleeping here, you’re not homeless,” Hope said. “What happened to your job?” Last she’d heard, Joy was working at a tattoo parlor.
“I had an epiphany,” Joy said. She lifted her shirt. There was a tattoo of a coffee cup surrounding her belly button.
“What is that?” Hope said.
“Inspiration,” Harrison said. He thumped his heart with his fist and flashed the peace sign. Then he lifted his shirt to reveal an identical coffee cup tattoo around his belly button.
They must have been drunk out of their minds. “Is there more?” Hope asked.
Joy cocked her head. “More what?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Do you at least have a business plan tattooed on your bum?” Austin laughed.
A look of hurt flashed across Joy’s face. “Why can’t you just once act like a friend instead of a hall monitor?”
Hope stepped up. “We’re just worried about you.”
“We?”
“Faith and I.”
Tears came to Joy’s eyes. “What part of ‘we’re starting a coffeehouse’ do you not understand?”
Hope wanted to hug Joy and congratulate her. But she also didn’t want her rushing into this crazy scheme without giving her honest feedback. If sisters couldn’t tell you the truth, who could? “Faith says it’s across from a Starbucks.”
“So?” Joy was defiant, forcing Hope to be honest.
“So. That doesn’t sound too smart.”
“Are you saying I’m dumb?” Joy dropped her pizza.
“It’s the perfect way to stick it to the man,” Harrison interjected.
“It’s business-suicide.” Hope thought she saw Austin flinch, but she didn’t have time to find out what that was all about.
“It’s strategic,” Joy said. “Our guests will be anti-Starbucks. We’re making a statement.”
“Funny, because the statement you seemed to be making just a short while ago was—‘Help! I’m homeless!’ ”
“Creative fund-raising,” Joy said. “Or something else entirely.”
“What does that mean?” Hope couldn’t believe how quickly things had escalated. She wished she had a do-over.
“I don’t owe you an explanation.” Joy shook her head and literally turned away from Hope.
“Give Austin back his money so we can take it to a real shelter for the homeless.”
“They’re not any better than us.”
“They’re actually homeless.”
“So am I.”
“You’re not homeless!”
“You try living with his mother.”
Harrison laughed, then looked at Hope. “She’s cool. Just. You know. Not to us.”
“I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances,” Hope said. He seemed nice. She wanted to apologize for her sister but that would start World War Three for sure.
Harrison grinned. “It’s cool.”
“What are you doing here anyway besides spying on me?” Joy leaned back on the sofa and crossed her arms.
“I have some news that might come as a shock,” Hope said.
Joy leaned forward. “Grandma Garland is dying and she wants us to spend Christmas with her.”
Hope was dumbstruck. For a half a second.
Faith!
Of course. The sister grapevine was in excellent working order. Faith had already spilled the beans. Which meant she’d called Joy and, unlike when Hope called Joy, Joy had actually picked up the phone for Faith. Hope couldn’t believe it. Or rather, she could believe it, which was even more aggravating. Hope literally wanted to jump on top of Joy and pummel her. Instead, she grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.
“That’s cashmere,” Joy said, grabbing the pillow back.
“So you’re answering Faith’s calls but not mine?” Hope could hear the anger in her voice. She didn’t want to get into a childish fight in front of Austin. But she equally wanted to take the pillow again and bash Joy over the head with it. Multiple times.
Joy pinned her pretty sky-blue eyes on Hope. “Faith doesn’t lecture me like you do.” Hope shook her head. Faith also didn’t stick around for Joy, Hope did. Why didn’t Joy appreciate that? Joy’s eyes slid to Austin and stayed pinned on him. “Who are you?” she asked again. “Besides being totally hot for an old dude, and quite generous.”
“Thanks for the Benjamin, man,” Harrison said, thumping Austin on the back.
“Sure,” Austin said.
“You gave them a hundred dolla
rs?” Hope was flabbergasted.
“We’re going to buy a sign with it,” Joy said. Her hands fanned the air. “Coffee and Cream. Just like us.” She leaned over and started kissing Harrison.
Austin waited a few seconds and then cleared his throat. “I’m Austin. Your grandmother’s neighbor.”
“Wow. Isn’t she lucky?” Joy winked at Austin until he blushed. Hope couldn’t believe the things Joy got away with. Like opening a coffee shop across from a Starbucks. “So. Is she really dying?” Joy leaned in for the juicy details.
“Joy!” Hope said.
“What?”
Hope shook her head. “You can’t just say whatever comes into your mind!”
“You should try it sometime,” Joy said.
Hope clenched her fists. Get stuffed. Is that what you want me to say?
“I’m afraid she is,” Austin interjected. Joy and Hope stared at him. “Really dying. Your grandmother.”
“Grandmother,” Joy said. “In name only.”
“It’s terminal cancer. Her doctor said she might not live much into the new year.”
“Is our father there?” Joy asked. And there it was. Her pitch went up. They all resorted to squeals when it came to their father.
Austin glanced at Hope. She purposefully averted her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. Or scream. Or jump from the balcony. “No,” Austin said softly. “I don’t know anything about him.”
This was Hope’s chance. She stepped forward. “He doesn’t know anything about Dad. But she will. We need to see her. We need answers.”
“Does she live in a shack?” Joy asked Austin.
Hope put her hand on his arm. He got the hint and stepped back. Hope fixed her gaze on Joy. “When did you become this person?”
“What person?”
“Greedy,” Hope said.
“That’s your interpretation,” Joy said.
“How else am I supposed to interpret that question?”
“I just wondered if she lived in a shack because of the way Mom used to talk about her.”
Joy was right. Their mother never had a nice word to say about their paternal grandmother. But that didn’t mean Joy had to sound so heartless. Who cared if she lived in a shack? “This is about a family member who doesn’t want to die alone.”
Joy waggled her finger at Hope. “Why are you going to see her? The woman never so much as sent a birthday or Christmas card.”
“I don’t think she knew where you were,” Austin said quietly.
“She could have found out,” Joy said. She squinted at Hope. “She’s nothing more than a stranger to me. I’m not going.”
“Suit yourself.” Hope turned and headed for the door.
Joy started to follow. “What are you expecting from her?” Hope opened the door and headed for the elevator. Austin followed. “Where exactly does she live?” Joy yelled down the hall. Hope clamped down on Austin’s arm before he could shout back an answer. “I can get the address from Faith,” Joy yelled down the hall.
“I don’t care,” Hope said.
“Why do you want to see her?” Joy was out of the apartment now, running down the hall. A few seconds later she stood breathless in front of Hope. For a second Hope flashed back to all those years when it was just her and Joy. Sometimes they would be walking to or from the beach and Joy would get stubborn about something, stop wherever she was, and refuse to budge. Hope would simply wait her out. The middle child was nothing if not patient. Eventually Joy would come running after her, almost panicked that Hope would leave her. Now here she was, all grown up, but still the same stubborn little girl. If Hope was going to meet their grandmother, there was no way that Joy was going to be left out. Hope held eye contact with Joy. She wanted nothing more than to get through to her. Get along with her. She wanted to take her in her arms and squeeze her until Joy loved her again. She wanted her to grow up. The elevator doors slid open. Hope and Austin walked in. Joy stood there, staring. Just as the doors were about to close, Hope thrust her arm in between them and took a step out. “I don’t just want to see her. I want to see you and Faith. Every Christmas you two blow me off.”
Joy sighed. “It’s so complicated when we get together.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Then stay. Spend Christmas with me. Forget about that woman.”
Hope shook her head. “I want to meet her. And I’m tired of not knowing where our father is.”
Joy considered her for a moment, then reached her hand out for Hope. Tears came to Hope’s eyes as she clutched her baby sister’s hand. Maybe she did lecture her too much. But it was because she loved her. Feared for her. Wanted to protect her. “Okay, okay,” Joy said. “Don’t cry.” She looked at Austin. “We’re going to need gas money.”
Hope wedged her foot against the elevator door and threw her arm up as if barricading Austin. “He gave you a hundred dollars.”
“We used it to pay for the pizza,” Joy said.
“I paid for the pizza,” Hope said. Joy shrugged, then stuck her tongue out. Hope shook her head, then stepped back and laughed. Joy joined in and was still cackling as the elevator doors shut.
“So that was Joy,” Hope said as they started to descend.
“Technically your grandmother paid for the pizza,” Austin said.
“Joy,” Hope said. “They named her Joy.” Austin arched his eyebrow. Did he have any idea how sexy he was?
“Yes?” he said. “They named her Joy. And?”
“And?!” Hope said. “That’s like naming an alligator Fluffy.”
* * *
Joy headed back into the apartment, closed the door with a sigh, and leaned against it. “Why didn’t you tell her?” Harrison asked from the sofa.
“Because,” Joy said, walking toward Harrison, then cuddling up with him on the sofa. “She didn’t ask. She just jumped to conclusions.” Joy and Harrison had gone to Capitol Hill to talk to Elsie, a homeless girl they’d befriended. She was an artist and a darn good one. They’d spent all night discussing the sign that Elsie would make for their coffee shop. They’d fallen asleep on the sidewalk with her in solidarity. Austin woke them by approaching and giving them the hundred-dollar bill. Before they took off, they gave the money to Elsie to help pay for the sign.
Joy reached under the coffee table and brought out the scrapbook she’d been working on. COFFEE AND CREAM was written on the cover. Inside were all her ideas, and plans. Hundreds and hundreds of hours of planning.
Harrison glanced over. “That’s way too much to tattoo on your bum,” he said.
Joy laughed. “It had better be,” she said.
Harrison reached over and took her hand. “You should show that to your sisters.”
“It wouldn’t matter. No matter what I do or say, I’m always just the baby. Someone they need to lecture, and scold, and worry about.”
“Don’t give up,” Harrison said. “Maybe they’ll come around.”
“And maybe Santa will bring us our coffee shop,” Joy said, laying her head on Harrison’s shoulder. “And every angel will get her wings, and elves will picket Starbucks, my sisters will finally see me as the woman I am instead of the little girl I used to be.”
“Dang,” Harrison said. “All I want is a toaster.”
Joy laughed and kissed him. “Easy to please,” she said.
“A four-slicer. None of that two-slice nonsense.”
“A man needs his bread,” Joy said.
Harrison nodded and squeezed her tighter. “A man needs his bread.”
CHAPTER 9
Faith Garland turned to look out over Fisherman’s Wharf just as her cell phone rang. It was a crisp day, and although the air had a distinct winter bite, the sun was shining full force. The ring of the phone melded with the sound of barking seals and the hum of voices along the wharf. Faith stared at her screen. Joy’s nose ring and thick black eyeliner stared back at her as her finger hovered over DECLINE. She should find a less angry picture of Joy, but f
or that she’d have to go back to childhood. Faith answered the call.
“Guess who just ambushed me?” Joy plunged in before Faith could even say hello. Even though Faith already knew the answer she let Joy ramble on about Hope. “Either she really wants us to come, or she wants the inheritance all to herself. Which do you think it is?”
Faith was glad that Stephen was in the restroom and the kids were heading closer to the seals carrying on at the end of the dock. Faith didn’t need to get any closer, she could smell them from here. She hated getting into arguments with her sisters in front of them. Her family unit—the one she’d created for herself—saw her as calm, put together, and in charge. Sometimes just a few-minute conversation with one of her sisters could make her feel irrational and totally out of control. If only Hope would stop pushing her sisterly agenda. “What inheritance?”
“She’s got some kind of a house, doesn’t she?”
“She probably owes on it. Believe me. We’re poor going back many generations on both sides of the family tree.”
“You never know. Hope was just here, playing me.”
“I don’t think Hope is playing you.” Hope, however awkward about her approach, was never diabolical. She was just needy. Needing for the three of them to have some kind of special relationship—the product of too many Afterschool Specials and novels where sisters giggled and painted each other’s toenails and shared their deepest, darkest secrets.
“Now we have to go! I’m bringing Harrison.”
“You’re going to our grandmother’s house?”
“It’s so weird to hear you call her that. We don’t have to call her that, do we?”
“We don’t have to do anything.”
“Good. Well, I’m going. Just in case.”
“Just in case there’s a big inheritance.” Faith couldn’t keep the disdain out of her voice and she didn’t even try.
“I have a coffee shop to open. This could be fate.”
It wasn’t fate. It was life being life. Faith didn’t bother to say that; Joy was a spark plug, always ready to blow. “I’ll think about it,” Faith said. She clicked off and dropped the phone back into her purse.