“Finished what?” Meg asked.
“Castles in the Sand.” Jo looked around at our blank faces. “My book? I just sent my book to my editor!”
There was a chorus of congratulations. Several diners—a cheerful table of gal pals, some bros at the bar, a middle-aged couple with their teenage daughters—turned around to smile.
“Too bad Eric has to work tonight,” Meg said.
Jo waved her flatbread at the teenagers, who giggled and waved back. “He wanted to do one more dinner service here before the Oak Hill opening next weekend. I finished the book just in time.”
Meg nodded wisely. “Work-life balance is a myth. It’s more like a teeter-totter. Sometimes you’re up, sometimes you’re down. Some days it’s tears and tantrums and chaos and car pool, and some days...” She smiled at John.
“It’s wonderful,” Jo finished.
“Yeah.”
I listened, nodding as if I were an equal part of their discussion. As if I had a cute little house in Bunyan and a fat, adorable baby and a husband who loved me best of all.
“Anyway, tonight I’m celebrating!” Jo declared, taking another bite of flatbread. “God, I’m pumped. And exhausted.”
“Hungry, too, apparently,” Trey teased.
She grinned and ruffled his hair affectionately. “The March women. Eating their feelings since adolescence.”
An image of Beth, pushing melon around her plate, slid into my brain. “Except for Beth,” I said. “She starves hers.”
My sisters both looked at me.
“What are you talking about?” Meg asked.
In our family hierarchy, Meg and Jo were the Big Sisters. They gave advice, they offered insights, they asked about our lives. They knew Beth better than I did. But they didn’t live at home anymore. They weren’t there at breakfast. “She never eats,” I said.
“Everybody diets,” Meg said.
“Anyway, she’s always been skinny,” Jo said.
Meg nodded. “Delicate.”
“She’s lost weight,” I said. “I’m pretty sure she’s skipping meals.”
“She ate at the wedding.” Jo looked at Meg. “Didn’t she?”
Did she? I hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t been watching. My bad. Jo always said I was self-absorbed.
“She helped me serve the cake,” Meg said.
“There you go.” Jo frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with Beth.”
Right. Because Beth was perfect.
Maybe if Meg and I were alone, I would have said something else. But I didn’t have proof, only a lurking suspicion. I wanted to be reassured, to believe that everything was all right.
Besides, tonight was about Jo.
Eric came out of the kitchen with a rib-cracking hug for Jo and a pitcher of Mother Earth Kölsch for the table. “To my Jo and her new book!”
Trey smiled and raised his glass. “To Jo.”
Aw. How sweet.I was not a beer drinker, but I sipped anyway.
