Even though Faith was younger, whenever Casey had a tough time growing up—a boyfriend issue or drama between her and her girlfriends—she’d always find Faith. It was Faith who would comfort Casey, although Casey would only fret about it for a minute or two before sobering up and moving on to more upbeat conversation. When her high school boyfriend broke up with her, Casey had come crying to Faith, lying on her bed, her face in a pillow. Faith had reassured her, telling her that there were other fish in the sea, and she shouldn’t worry too much, even though she knew how much it probably hurt. Casey sat up, sniffled a little more, and then went into the bathroom and got her hot pink nail polish. She’d decided that Faith needed a make over. Faith knew she didn’t really need one, but it was Casey’s way of dealing with it, and getting over it. She’d let Casey paint her nails, do her makeup, and style her hair that day, and they’d gone shopping together that afternoon. Casey never said another word, or—as far as she knew—shed another tear over that boy, but she knew it had hit her sister harder than she was letting on.
What worried Faith now was that Casey was struggling. She had Isabella to think about, her work, which was quite demanding, and now the divorce. She’d be looking for a distraction for sure. She hoped Casey wouldn’t try and make Jake her distraction.
“I’m surprised that Jake hasn’t been by to paint that built-in,” Nan said as they all sat at the table.
“It’s only nine o’clock, Mom,” Faith’s mother said, pouring more coffee into Faith’s cup.
Faith held up a hand to stop her from pouring any more, even though she was exhausted and could do with the jolt of caffeine. She hadn’t slept very well last night.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said.
Faith worried. Jake had shown up early every day since they’d arrived, but he wasn’t there this morning when they’d all gotten up. Was he avoiding her? As the night had turned to dawn, she started to wonder if she’d misread the signs because of the wine. Had he really not been looking at her like she’d thought? What did he really think about her admission that his project to develop Corolla was an awful idea? Had she offended him? And what did he mean by saying he’s been down that road before? That still didn’t set well with her. With her mug cradled in both hands, she sat quietly, still pondering it all. If he did stop by, she’d better get up and make herself presentable. She’d only dusted her face with a little powder and brushed her hair. She had no makeup to speak of, and she was wearing an old T-shirt and shorts.
Next to Isabella, Casey sat. There was no sign of the Casey she’d seen last night. Today, she had a brave face on. She was wearing wedge sandals, another of her sundresses—little spaghetti straps showing off her new tan—dangly earrings, her hair curled, lip gloss. Why? What made Casey wake up every morning and do all that to herself? It just wasn’t Faith at all. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her looks. She just didn’t feel the need to spend that much time on it. And, when she really got honest with herself, she didn’t even know if she could make herself up the right way. What she’d accomplished getting ready last night had been the extent of her expertise in the area of beauty.
“What do you want to do for your birthday, Nan? Do you want a little party? Cake?” Casey asked.
“Yes! Cake!” Isabella said, nodding vigorously. “I like yellow cake with birthday balloons.”
“I want this,” Nan said, looking around the table. “And I suppose we should have cake.”
Isabella wriggled in her chair, clapping her hands with excitement.
“We want to do something special for you, Mom,” Faith’s mother said, sitting down beside her. “It would make us feel like we were paying you back for this wonderful vacation.”
“If you really want to know, I’d like you to put that box of photos into photo albums so you each can have one or two to remember all the great times we’ve had as a family. I gave them all to Faith because I figured she’d go through with organizing them, but I’d love it if you all could have them.”
Nan was right. Faith had already thought about organizing that box, but she’d been so preoccupied with the goings-on of their vacation that she’d let it slip her mind.
“I’d be happy to do that for you, Nan,” Faith said.
“Thank you, Faith. I can always count on you. Maybe you girls could sort through them one of these nights when you’re not running the streets,” she winked at Faith. Nan was only kidding, but her words made Faith think of Jake.
“Can we go to the beach, Mommy?” Isabella asked. “I want to make a sandcastle.”
“Sure we can,” Casey said. “I’ll walk you down there in a little bit. Did you know, Faith makes amazing castles?”
Faith used to spend hours making sandcastles when she was little. They’d get up at the crack of dawn and go down to the beach. Faith would fill her bucket with water, the chilly morning surf causing goose bumps on her legs. She’d sit on the beach with her shovels and buckets packing sand into them, adding a little water to make it all stick together, and carefully building on to the tops until she’d made a fortress. Casey would plop down next to her, fill one bucket, and then lose interest when she turned it over and half the sand slid down the mound like a mini avalanche. For Faith, it was an act of endurance, of perseverance to make the best castle she could. It didn’t bother Faith that it took a long time, or that the tide would eventually wash it away. She worked at it to see the finished product. She was proud of it when it was done.
“I’d be happy to make one with you, Isabella,” Faith said. “I can show you how to make a moat around it and everything.”
“Yes!” Isabella said, getting up from the table. “I’m getting my swimsuit on right now!”
“Isabella, you haven’t finished your breakfast,” Casey called out to her, but Isabella had already gone into her bedroom and closed the door. “She’s so much like you, Faith.”
“You think so?”
“Oh my gosh, yes. Sometimes it’s scary. Isabella, you, and Nan are all so much alike. I feel like the odd man out sometimes.”
What was Casey talking about? This idea had never crossed Faith’s mind. Nan was the leader of the family, the maker of all traditions, the one person who never seemed to falter with anything. How was Faith like her? If anything, Casey should feel most like her. She was a successful lawyer, a mother, and a wife (until recently). Like Nan, she had everything under control. Perhaps the divorce had skewed her view of things.
“I suppose I should get ready to go to the beach, since I’m building a sandcastle today,” Faith said, standing up. “Nan, do you want me to help you go down to the beach?”
“No, dear. I’ll watch from the porch. The heat is unbearable today. But, thank you.”
As Faith entered her bedroom, Casey came up behind her. “Thank you for offering to build sandcastles with Isabella. I try to relate to her, but her daddy was always better at it than me.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, glad she could help in some way.
