Sisters Like Us

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“Your table?” her mother asked, appearing at the craft room door. “I’ve been telling you that for years. You need to layer your linens. Really, Harper, a tablecloth, place mats and napkins? A monkey could be more creative. At least make shorter, contrasting runners to drape widthwise. It will add visual interest.”

Harper found herself automatically considering her mother’s idea. In that nanosecond, she thought about the fabric she kept on hand and how easy it would be to pull out her sewing machine and—

“No!” She literally took a step back and shook her head. “No, Mom. Stop, please. I’m not looking for more ways to waste time decorating the table for dinner.”

“Waste time? It’s dinner with your family. What could be more important?”

Lucas took the supplies she’d given him and left. Harper put the flameless candles down and put her hands on her hips. “Mom, I’m serious. I can’t keep doing this. I have work I need to be doing. I have another order for gift bags, Misty needs new T-shirt designs. I heard back from the city and they want me to get going on the summer mailer. Once I design it and get it printed, I have to put on all the labels myself.”

Lucas returned and collected the candles. “Hire someone to do the grunt work.”

“What?” Harper and Bunny said together.

Bunny glared at him. “Lucas, I know you’re trying to help, but be serious. It’s bad enough Harper is taking time from raising Becca to do this, but to hire an assistant? If she’s going to work, she should be doing it all herself.”

Which was exactly what Harper had been thinking, only hearing her mother say it put the sentiment in a totally different light.

“Why?” she asked.

Bunny stared at her. “Why what?”

“Why can’t I hire someone? Why is that so awful? Mom, I’m drowning here. My job is how I feed my family. I’m struggling every single month. Your rent money helps and I appreciate it, but it doesn’t come close to covering the mortgage, let alone the expenses. I have no idea if Terence is going to keep his promise about paying for half Becca’s college, so I have to deal with that, as well.”

Bunny sniffed. “Becca’s a beautiful young woman. Why does she need to go to college? She’ll marry a nice boy who will take care of her.”

Harper did her best not to shriek. “Mom, no. Just no. Becca is going to get an education so she has choices and can take care of herself. I thought I’d have a man to take care of me and look where that got me. I will not put my daughter in this position. It worked out for you but it doesn’t work out that way for everyone. I want Becca to be strong and independent, like Stacey. She’s smart and capable. We need to encourage her to be her best self.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being honest. I’m nearly forty-two, Mom, and I’m struggling. It’s my fault—I get that. I should have finished college. I should have gone to work when Becca started school, but I didn’t. I’m doing the best I can with the choices I made.” She squared her shoulders. “I didn’t have time to make pasta. I bought some from the store. You’re going to have to deal with that.”

Bunny glared at her, then turned on her heel and marched out of the room. It was only then Harper saw her daughter and Jazz standing in the doorway.

“Your grandmother thinks I should layer more linens when I set the table.”

Becca rubbed Jazz’s head. “Going crossways? I can see how that would be pretty. You’re not going to do it, are you?”

“No.”

Becca smiled. “Mom, store-bought pasta is okay with me. The same with bread and cookies and anything else you don’t want to make. I’ve had it all before at my friends’ houses and it’s not horrible.”

“Thank you. I knew I couldn’t trust those other mothers. They always said they were feeding you homemade but they were lying.”

Becca giggled. Harper allowed herself to smile.

“Grandma loves the drama,” Becca told her. “It makes her feel special.”

An unexpected insight. “Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.” Her daughter sighed. “Thor ate the raw chicken.”

“What?”

Becca grinned. “I’m kidding, Mom.”

Harper pressed her hand to her chest. “Don’t do that. I’m getting old and I could very possibly have a heart condition.”

* * *

Becca tried to summon some enthusiasm as she lay sprawled on the comfortable sofa. She had a feeling that Lucas hadn’t been kidding about her keeping up her grades in exchange for him helping her get in her driving hours. She was doing okay in English, Spanish and geometry. It was European History where she was getting Cs. History was so boring. The whole second half of the class focused on World War II, which was, like, a million years ago. Why did anyone care about that kind of stuff?

“You’re not listening,” Jordan complained.

“I was thinking about the homework I have to do. I need to write a paper for European History and we have that chem test next week. I can’t believe how much math there is in that class.”

“I know. I thought we’d be doing more fun stuff in the lab, but nooo. There’s equations.” Jordan flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “I wonder when Nathan will get here. He had a meeting after swim practice. You know he got a scholarship to UCLA to play water polo, right?”

“Uh-huh.” No point in mentioning that Jordan had already told her eight times. Yes, Nathan was a water polo god and the world stood in awe of his talent.

Which was something she could have joked about, but not anymore. Jordan was convinced that Becca couldn’t get past her jealousy when it came to her friend’s new sex life, and Becca couldn’t figure out how to convince her otherwise. Possibly because she really didn’t know how she felt.

Yes, she would like a boyfriend, someone who thought she was special, but sex? There was so much going on already, and to be honest, the thought of it was both exciting and scary. Most of the time, though, scary won.

There was a knock at the front door. Jordan flew across the family room to the foyer and disappeared from view. Becca sat up, uneasy at the thought of reclining with Nathan around. Not that she could say why, but sometimes he made her uncomfortable.

She told herself he wasn’t the problem, she was. Maybe Jordan was right and she was jealous of the whole sex thing, although she really didn’t think it was that.

She heard the happy couple murmur something. They stepped into view as Nathan pulled Jordan close and kissed her like they were halfway to doing it right there.

Becca looked away, but not before she saw Nathan’s hand settle on her friend’s ass. He squeezed really hard. Becca tried not to shudder. Whatever they were doing, it should be, you know, special, or at least in private.

She unzipped her backpack and pretended to be looking for something as the kiss went on and on. When they finally drew apart, she looked up. Nathan, six feet two inches of blond, blue-eyed handsomeness, winked at her.

“Hey, Becca.”

“Hey.”

Jordan wrapped her arms around Nathan’s narrow waist for a second, then jumped back. “Okay, I’m going to go upstairs and put on more lip gloss. Becca, get out some snacks from the freezer and put them in the oven. I’ll be right back.”

Becca got up and walked into the kitchen. The giant Sub-Zero refrigerator nearly filled one wall. The freezer was filled with all kinds of prepared foods—mostly from Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s, but still. Becca’s grandmother would have a fit if she ever saw them.

She reviewed the selection, picking mini quiches that were always good. She set the temperature on the oven, then put the quiches on a cookie sheet. In the refrigerator she found prepared ranch dip and a plate of cut-up vegetables. There were chips in the pantry.

Nathan leaned against the bar-height counter and watched her work. “You know your way around Jordan’s kitchen,” he said.

“We’ve been friends a long time and I’m here a lot. Her mom always makes sure there’s plenty of food for us.”

She had the need to keep moving, although she couldn’t say why. She’d been in the same room with Nathan dozens of times. He was perfectly fine. In fact, he mostly ignored her, which sometimes she preferred. But today he seemed to be watching her.

“Jordan tell you about Mexico?” he asked.

“That you went with her family?”

He moved toward her. “No, Becca. The other part.”

Somehow she found herself backed against a corner of the counter. Nathan stood in front of her and there was nowhere to move. He put his hands on her waist and leaned close. For one horrifying second, she thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he whispered, “I can do that for you, too, if you want.”

He smelled faintly of chlorine and too much cologne and she didn’t like the way his fingers squeezed ever so slightly.

“I d-don’t know what that means,” she whispered, wishing he would move back and give her more room.

He kissed the side of her neck. “The virgin thing. I’m good with virgins. I take things slow and easy. You’ll like it.”

She shoved him hard and glared at him. “What are you talking about? You didn’t just say that. Jordan’s your girlfriend. You’re supposed to be in love with her.”

“I told her I loved her,” he said with a shrug. “There’s a difference.”

What? That didn’t make any—She felt her eyes widen. “You lied? You lied to get her to sleep with you? That’s disgusting.”

“Whatever gets the job done. So what about you?”

He started toward her again. She had no idea what he was going to do, but she was sure she didn’t want any part of it. She shoved him again, as hard as she could, then pushed past him. She grabbed her backpack, then raced out the front door. She was still running when she reached the end of the block.

Halfway home, she slowed enough to catch her breath. Her whole body hurt, her head felt funny and her stomach was a mess. She tried to slow her breathing only to have to turn toward some bushes and throw up. She vomited until there was nothing left, then started to cry.

What had just happened? Why had Nathan acted like that? Becca couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She started running again, not stopping until she made it to her house.

Her mom was on the phone with a client. Becca hurried past her mom’s office, toward her own room. When she got there, she collapsed on the bed and gave in to more tears. She was scared and confused and sick.

A few minutes later, she felt a weight on the bed. She raised her head. “Oh, Mom...” But it wasn’t her mother. Jazz had come into the room and jumped up on her bed. Thor stood close by, as if standing guard. Becca threw her arms around her dog and hung on. Jazz snuggled close.

“It was so horrible,” Becca whispered. “He scared me. I didn’t think he was going to do anything bad, but what he said... I thought he and Jordan were in love.”

Jazz watched her attentively. Thor lay down on the floor, but kept his attention on her. Becca swallowed. “He’s her boyfriend. What is he thinking?”

She had a bad feeling he was thinking that he could use Jordan’s friends the way he used Jordan.

Her phone chirped. She reached for it and saw a text from Jordan.

Nathan says ur mom told u to get home but I know the truth. U have 2 get over it, B. Don’t be jealous of me. Ur my friend.

Becca stared at her phone, then tossed it on the floor and rolled onto her back. She had no idea what to do or think or say. All she knew for sure was that Nathan was a jerk, Jordan was blind and none of this was going to end well.

Chapter Eight (#u85d27302-be68-5d93-8bf7-c5d87ea4b5ac)

THE LANDSCAPING COMPANY pushed Harper over the edge. She’d been prepared to do all the work herself, to stay up nights and give up sleep, but an unexpected call from a landscaper who needed her to do the billing for him was one job too far.

The money was good and the work relatively easy. There was an existing database. All Harper had to do was enter the amount for the month, print out the invoices, stuff them in envelopes and pop them in the mail. Easy-peasy—except for the fact that there were nearly five hundred clients and the invoicing had to be done in less than two days.

Between that new job, her regular clients, the additional brochure work she had for the city and a flower shop client who wanted a “spruce” on content for her website, Harper was slammed. She’d been forced to hire help.

Rather than go through the trouble of placing an ad online or interviewing people, she heard about Morgan Wolfenbarger, a friend of a friend, who was looking for part-time work.

In the “oh goody” column, Morgan showed up right on time. She was tall and curvy, with long, curly dark hair. Under items that would be considered less fortunate, Morgan was a talker.

“Your house is really nice,” she said as Harper showed her to the small office where she would input the information on Harper’s only computer. Note to self—if she was going to continue to use extra help, she would need a second computer.

“We need to remodel our kitchen,” Morgan continued, as she settled in the chair. “It’s a disaster, but with the kids and everything, when would we find the time? And what would we do while it was torn up? I guess I could freeze a bunch of meals, but who wants to do that? Trust me, after running Supper’s in the Bag all those years, the last thing I want to do is prep meals.”