Chapter Twenty-Seven
Pepper meandered through Everland Plaza with Tuesday who was rummaging through her oversize purse. “Want a stick of gum?”
Pepper glanced over and snorted. “Um…that’s a tampon, hon.”
“God, it’s a mess in here.” Her sister dropped the wrapper and continued rummaging. “ChapStick, teabag, emergency underwear, more ChapStick, ah, gum!”
Pepper shook her head, and Tuesday popped the proffered stick into her own mouth, then folded the silver foil into a neat square.
“What’s up? You only chew gum when anxious.”
“Me? I don’t get anxious,” her sister scoffed.
“Oh. Right.” Part of Tuesday being Tuesday was her insistence that little things like basic human emotions didn’t apply to her. She didn’t feel sad Mom left. She didn’t get stage fright when having an audition. She didn’t fret over her bills. She never worried.
Her sister was a liar or a cyborg.
They resumed walking. Pepper kept control of Kitty’s leash like Rhett’sPuppy Masterbook had instructed. She was to show the frisky puppy who was the alpha. Easier said than done when all she wanted to do was scoop her up and smother her face with kisses. It was nice to be able to show open affection somewhere.
“Have you spoken to Dad lately?” Tuesday inspected a long strand of her perfect blond hair for a nonexistent split end.
“Uh, no.” An invisible antenna poked up in the back of Pepper’s head. The one attuned to the frequency of potential disaster. “Why?”
“No reason. Just wondering.”
They continued walking, but the relaxed, summery, isn’t-it-great-to-wear-sundresses-and-strappy-sandals feeling had disappeared. The sidewalk felt as safe as a river of rapidly thinning ice.
Pepper’s mind rewound and replayed the last couple weeks. All the scenes were focused on Rhett. A few times, after finishing with a dog-walking client, she’d called Dad for a casual check-in but never heard back.
Her chest tightened at the realization.
He hadn’t called back.
It wasn’t uncommon for his answering machine to pick up. Dad wasn’t the type to sit indoors. Or sit. Ever. He and Tuesday shared a boundless capacity for movement, while Pepper had taken after Mom. They preferred curling up on the couch. Reading. A party was a new book, glass of wine, and a few squares of dark chocolate.
But he’d call back.
Always.
What if he tripped on the property? Fell down a ravine? Had a heart attack? Had a heart attack, tripped, and broke his leg out of cell phone reception?
“Earth to Pepper. Stop catastrophizing.” Tuesday gave a friendly arm squeeze. “He’s not in a ditch somewhere with a broken neck.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.” Not technically.
“You should see your face. It’s doing that worried twitchy thing.”
“I’m scared something is wrong.” This wasn’t the time for sisterly banter. “He hasn’t called me back even though I left messages.”
“Me neither. But he mentioned he was taking a vacation.”
“A what?” Pepper tried processing this unexpected information, but it was like her hard drive was full. “Dad doesn’t take vacations.”
Tuesday shrugged. “Guess he does now.”
“Where’d he go?”
“He didn’t say.”
