“Still never understood that.”
“Or coffee to tea. Or James Stewart to Humphrey Bogart.”
“Oh, no you didn’t go there.” Tuesday clasped her hands to her chest in mock horror. “You want to debate the sexiest leading man in Hollywood’s golden age of cinema? BecauseCasablancabeatsMr. Smith Goes to Washingtonin terms of sexy men—”
“My point is that maybe you’re right. At least sort of.”
“Wow, what a ringing endorsement.”
“I mean, look at you and Chicago. It’s a new you, but it makes sense. Maybe I am not going to scrap my entire identity. I can tweak stuff. But no matter what, I have to practice law, and make money because…” There was no way to say “so I can look after you and Dad someday” without making it sound like a guilt trip. “Because it’s practical.”
“It’s pointless for me to say that I’m not your problem to fix.” Tuesday leaned forward, bracing her forehead in her hands. “I can talk until my vocal cords snap, but you’ll never hear reason. Mom messed you up so much. Add that particular resentment to my therapy list.”
“It’s how I’m wired. I can’t live without knowing where I’ll get my next paycheck, or constantly reacting to external forces rather than being proactive. My chosen path puts me in the driver’s seat. Maybe it’s boring, like driving a Toyota, but hey, it can be a red Toyota.”
Tuesday giggled. “If law doesn’t work out, you should consider doing gigs as a motivational speaker.”
“Shut up.”
“How to live your best life with a practical dollop of daring.” She shook her head, still chuckling. “A red Toyota. Only you.”
“My point remains valid. Why can’t I have a summer fling?” Her voice rang a little hollow, so she kept talking as if she threw enough words at her heart, eventually some would stick. “I’m not staying around Everland past summer’s end. Rhett will live here long after I’m gone. I’m never naughty. So why can’t I transform this temporary dead end into a chance to sow some wild oats and spread a few branches? There’s time enough for roots down the road.”
“You can.” Tuesday didn’t look convinced. “Absolutely. It’s just out of character. You’re too practical for a friends with benefits arrangement. You’ll get involved. I know you. You take a good easy-breezy game, but give it another week or two and you’ll be trying to fix his life, assist in any crises, be there, offering a shoulder to lean upon. This is what you do. Because…”
“Go on.” She forced herself to take a deep breath and release it slowly. “Don’t hold back on my account.”
“You’re afraid that if nobody needs you, they’ll leave.”
Pepper sat there, reeling. Part of her wanted to hit back. After all, Tuesday wasn’t Little Miss Perfect. One week she’d be splurging on organic chia seeds and kale chips, self-identifying as a vegan, but wait two weeks and she’d be sniffling over a plate of kalbi ribs in Koreatown because she lost a part by “thismuch, Pepper.Thismuch.” Look upflakyorhot messin the dictionary, and would be her sister, hunting for her missing apartment keys or staying up all hours watching miniature cooking videos or never making it anywhere on time, despite sending a heads-up “I’m running ten minutes late” text. Or not. Because maybe her phone was lost. Again.
She had so much ammunition that all she needed to do was open her mouth and she’d take her sister down Rambo-style.
But one thing stopped her.
Tuesday was right. It hurt like hell to hear, but it was nevertheless, the truth.
Finally, Tuesday broke the silence but walking to the kitchen and coming back with a bottle of merlot and two mason jars. She filled them both to the brim.
“Here.” She passed one. “You’re my sister. You drive me crazy, but you’re my best friend on the face of the Earth. I don’t want to fight.”
“Me neither.” Pepper ruefully clinked her glass.
“Now. Where were we? Ah, yes. The medallion prize money. Your Rhett—sorry, Rhett the random friendly neighbor—can assist with deciphering any clues referencing local knowledge or place names. Then we’ll find the medallion, grab the money and be off to start new lives in the Windy City.”
Pepper frowned. “We?”
“Me? Go to Chicago alone?” Tuesday feigned shock. “Plus, look at J.K. Growling and Kitty. They love each other.”
The two dogs were curled up together in a sunny patch of morning sun.
“Chicago,” Pepper whispered, tasting the possibilities. It was one thing to tell herself that she was leaving. Quite another to have an actual destination. “You think we’d like the Midwest?”
“We’ll take it by storm.” Tuesday let free a contented sigh. “No ocean, but hey they have those big lakes. It’s a perfect plan.”
“Yeah. Perfect.” Pepper refused to look out the window at the house next door. Rhett would never leave Everland. His family was here, his whole life. And she couldn’t sacrifice hers, or abandon them. The little fantasy she’d allowed to dance around the edge of her mind about finding a happily ever Everland was just that. A story to be told in the dark between kisses and cuddles.
It wasn’t real.
