But now the party is over. And if he thinks I’ve let it go, he’s about to have a very rude awakening.
—
“I can help with the cards, if you want?” I say, walking back into the kitchen with the box under my arm.
“Oh,” Shannon says, clearly torn between what she wants to do (open the cards) and what she thinks she should do (wait for Dan to open the cards).
I go in for the kill. “Makes sense to take a note of all of them now, so we know you haven’t missed any?”
“That’s true,” she says, warming to the idea. “We’ll just make a list of everyone who left one. Dan and I can go through them in detail tomorrow.”
We set up mission control on the family room floor, the cards strewn out all over the ancient glass coffee table that’s been here since before I was born.
Shannon uses a letter opener to neatly slice open each envelope, opening the card and reading out the sender in her most businesslike voice before sliding it back into place and stackingit into a neat pile at her elbow. As the ever-dutiful assistant, I input every detail into my laptop. At this point I’d literally file her taxes for her if it means I’m allowed to be in her presence.
“Uncle Bill and Aunt Irene,” she says. “Check. Two hundred dollars.” My eyes bulge. The amount of money that changes hands at weddings is obscene.
We content ourselves with small talk while we work. She tells me about which of her friends are pregnant, and I tell her about Sam’s attempts at catfishing our neighbor, who she’s convinced keeps stealing her packages.
“Any men in your life?” Shannon asks me next. “I remember you saying something about a guy you worked with.”
I cringe at this; she can only be referring to Andy, who I used to talk abouta lot.I’m grateful she doesn’t remember his name.
“No one,” I tell her, and I can tell she’s judging me. But can you blame me? With Shannon and Dan as my model, serious relationships seem like no fun atall.
“By the way,” she says, offhand, “I might be coming to New York soon.”
“What, seriously?” In all the years I’ve been living there she’s never once visited.
“Yep,” she says, sweeping up the stack of cards and tapping them against the coffee table. “There’s a realtors’ conference. It’s a good networking opportunity.”
“Are you and Dan going to make a weekend ofit?”
“The dates clash with a council thing, so it would just be me, if it happens. But I’m not sure yet. They only send the top salesperson.”
Holy shit. This is it. This is my opportunity. How long have I been waiting for a chance to separate my sister from Dan and talk some sense intoher?
“You could stay with me,” I blurt. “And hang out for the weekend. It would be really fun.”
“That might be good, actually,” she says. “Everything is so crazy expensive there.”
“Totally,” I say, adrenaline flooding my system. “I could show you the sights. You’ve never been to New York before.” It sounds like an accusation when I say it, and I see her shoulders tense up. I quickly change tack.
“We could try and check out a few dress shops, for the wedding?” I offer. “That big dress shop fromDream Dressis in New York,” I add, in reference to a beloved reality show. “You could meet Randy!”
She laughs. “That would be cool.”
“I’d die to see what he’d put youin.”
“Well, I’ll let you know if it comes together.”
“Please come,” I beg her, my tone desperate. “I really want you to. It feels like we never see each other since…It will be fun. I promise.”
“It would be good to check out some dress shops. There’s one I have my eyeon.”
“Totally. Send me the dates and I’ll check with my roommate? Should be fine.”
“Sure,” she says, slicing another card open. “Earl and Sheila. Canadian Tire. Sixty dollars.”
