“Hi. You must be Harper. I’m Emma,” the tallest of the three says. “I appreciate you coming out tonight.”
“No problem.” I look down at the girls. “Hi. You must be Sam and Sadie.”
“I’m Sadie, and that’s Sam.”
I study the two of them, trying to find any identifiers to distinguish the two. It looks like Sam has a bundle of freckles right below her left eye that Sadie is missing.
Not that I’ll need to learn this.
This is a one-off thing. It’s not like Marcus will be calling me to watch the girls again.
“C’mon in.” Emma waves me in. A staircase is directly in front of me with shiplap walls going up the stairs, painted in the same sage green as the shutters outside. I follow the three of them into the house. It opens into the living room and kitchen. Beyond it, a screened-in porch with open French doors to let in the cool air.
Everything about the kitchen is modern. A sink sits in the middle of the island with black fixtures, and four padded stools face the stove and oven.
Gray walls are covered with pictures of the girls. Bright and happy faces stare up from every surface.
The girls wait by me as Emma hands me a sheet of paper. “I wrote out notes for you, but they’re easy. If you need anything, Marcus said you have his number, but I put mine on there just in case.”
“Thank you.” I glance over it, everything seeming straightforward.
Emma waves goodbye to the girls and then it’s the three of us.
“How did you meet our dad?” Sadie asks.
I shrug out of my coat and drape it across one of the seats at the island. It’s the question only a kid would ask. “We went to college together.”
That’s a better answer thanit’s complicated. I don’t think I need to get into our dating history.
We dated in college, got married, Marcus left, and nowwe’re…what? Friends? Friends with feelings? I don’t know what we are. That’s something to figure out another day.
“You also teach at our school,” Sam points out.
“I do. Mrs. Gonzalez is your teacher.”
They both nod. “She’s really nice.”
“She is. She’s one of my best friends.”
Sam wraps an arm around Sadie’s shoulders. “Sadie is my best friend.”
“Sam is mine.” Sadie returns the hug.
I wish my sister and I were that close. I guess it comes with the territory when you have a twin.
“Well, do you two want to help me make dinner for you?”
“Yes,” they both answer.
“We like helping. Daddy lets us make breakfast with him every weekend,” Sam tells me. “Can we have spaghetti?”
“Absolutely. Can you show me where it is?” The girls help pull out everything we need, garlic bread included. “What kind of things do you make with your dad?”
“Pancakes and waffles.”
I smile at the two of them. They are spitting images of one another, but seeing the two of them now, up close, they have more differences.
“You know.” I set the pot down on the stove and flick the gas on. “I’ve never been very good at making pancakes.”
