“You don’t. You have everyone else.”
Olivia set her jaw. “No. Dennis said the producer wants a team of five. I already told him we had a new addition, so we met the criteria. Gale, you have to come.”
Before I could object, she continued, “In fact, Dennis was thrilled we’d brought on a meteorologist. He said it gave us a professional glaze or something like that.”
“I’m not a meteorologist.”
Her insufferable sigh was one I’d heard a lot growing up. We might get along, but my introversion and resistant personality drove her crazy. “Same difference. You and Cormy were in school together.”
“We hadsomeclasses together. An atmospheric scientist and meteorologist are closely related, but my field of study is much broader. Meteorology is basically a subcategory.”
I’d explained it a hundred times, but she never listened.
“Even better. Don’t you want your name out there? Think of the job prospects this could bring. Plus, the photography you submit to all those magazines and the contests you enter… It gives you merit. You can put that you’re part of a network miniseries on your résumé.”
“But I don’t want to be part of a network miniseries. Besides, my photography should speak for itself.”
“Come on, Gale. I need you.”
Heart fluttering, I turned my attention to the sky, studying the pattern of clouds without giving her an answer. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight. This opportunity was supposed to be for her, not me.
But I hated it when she got mad, and if I said no, she might lose this opportunity, and it would be my fault.
Olivia looped her arm with mine and followed my gaze. “Let me guess. Cloudy with a chance of meatballs?”
I smiled. “I loved that book when I was little.”
“I know. You made Dad read it every night. Tell me the forecast, oh great one.”
I tipped my head against hers. “Well, those clouds are made entirely of ice crystals and appear at high altitude. Cirrus and cirrostratus.” I pointed out the differences, drawing lines in the sky with a finger. “See it? The cirrus are fibrous and feathery. The cirrostratus are wispier, almost transparent. These types of clouds often appear together as a front approaches.”
“And what does that mean for weather?”
“We’ll likely have rain in the next twenty-four hours.”
“When are the storms coming?”
“Soon enough. You know the signs as well as I do.”
We walked through the long grass and into the lightly wooded part beyond, stopping at the knotted black walnut we favored in our youth. The low branches were great for climbing, and in the fall, we collected the nuts off the ground. A vicious game ensued where we pelted one another until one of us burst into tears—usually me—and we stumbled home bruised and battered to endure lectures from Dad.
Olivia pulled from my arm as we approached the tree. She circled it once, then stopped. “You turned down that job offer in Dallas, didn’t you?”
I didn’t answer, but it wasn’t a question. Not really. Olivia knew I hadn’t accepted it.
“I thought data analysis was something you enjoyed. It would have been a nice cushy desk job.”
“In the city. I’m not cut out for city living. Too many people.”
“You can’t hide in Dad’s basement forever.”
No, but I could try.
“I have photography.”
She sighed. “Will you come tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’ll come.”
