Luke groans. “We do that every time.”
“Because it’s fun.”
Paisley leans into Hudson’s side, her head fitting onto his shoulder. “I’m down. Butno oneis allowed to put Taylor Swift in the bowl. I’m tired of pulling her name.”
“Only if we can veto Travis Kelce too,” Luke calls, heading for the kitchen.
Piper faces me, mouthingfishbowl?
“It’s like a three-round charades game. We do characters or people, and in the first round, you can only describe them?—”
“Like Catch Phrase,” Carrie cuts in.
I wait to see if she’s going to continue, but she doesn’t. “The second round you act them out, and the third round you can only say one word.”
“One word,” Piper repeats.
“By then you know everyone in the bowl, so it’s not as hard as it sounds. It’s actually pretty fun.”
She’s skeptical, but so far she’s blended in fairly well with the eclectic group we have here. Luke, our resident jock, Caleb, his best friend, Carrie, a sweet-but-sassy pediatric nurse, Paisley and Hudson, the newspaper journalist and editor, and me, secret author—though it’s not a secret from my family. Molly bailed because she had plans with friends, and our other sister, Avery, had a date tonight.
“Girls against boys?” Paisley asks.
Carrie does a quick count. “We’re outnumbered.”
“I have to leave anyway.” Caleb gets up from the table and stretches. “Early morning.”
“On a Saturday?” Luke asks, very suspicious.
“Pancake breakfast. The PTA is putting it on, but I promised to help with setup. And maybe to flip some pancakes. If anyone’s hungry, it goes to a good cause.”
“Your classroom?” Carrie asks. “Can we just donate?”
“You can buy raffle tickets. I’ll send you the link.”
“Okay, I’ve got work in the morning, but I’ll send you some money and you put my tickets in any basket you’d know I’d want.”
“Done.” Caleb flashes a smile at the rest of the table. “See y’all later.”
Luke walks him out, then comes back with paper, pens, and scissors. It takes some time to write out our characters and famous people and to put them all in the bowl. I spend that time listening to Paisley gently questioning Piper. She’s clearly getting information for her article, but it’s subtle, keeping Piper at ease. She’s good at her job.
“I know where you went to college,” Paisley says, shooting me a look. “But where did you grow up?”
“Here. Well, in the area. I grew up in Hermitage.”
“Any siblings?”
“Just one brother. He’s married with two kids and lives in Savannah now. But we see him at least once a year. He likes to come home for Christmas.”
“Sounds like your family is close.”
Piper looks like she considers this, her pen drawing flowers absently on a rectangular slip of paper. “Yeah, I guess we are. My parents were a huge help when I opened the store. Not financially, but supportively. They stood at my side and kept me up when it felt like too much.”
“Do you see them a lot still?”
“We catch up at Sunday dinners every week, but we don’t talk much between them. We don’t really need to, I guess.” Piper laughs, observing my sister. “You kind of ask the tough questions.”
“How do you mean?”
