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“We could put tables outside,” Andi offers. “We could put twinkle lights up out there, in the trees and on poles. Right, Sutton?” she says, nudging her friend. “You really like twinkle lights.”

Is Sutton blushing? Over twinkle lights?

I join the group. “I was definitely thinking about tables outside. And maybe a bonfire.”

Sutton looks up at me, her expression difficult to read.

“Oh, that’s a fantastic idea,” Nora says.

“We could roast hotdogs and marshmallows then,” Sutton says. “Rather than having everything in here.”

And because I’ve had my eyes glued on her since she walked in, I know it’s practically the first full sentence she’s uttered.

She looks at me as she says it, and I nod. “You just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

My voice is a little gruffer than I mean it to be, and her cheeks definitely turn pink now.

Oh, is she thinking about something besides hot dogs and marshmallows? Because suddenly I am.

And the sentiment holds—anything she wants, I will make happen. She just has to tell me.

“Dammit, Patty!” Muriel suddenly yells. “You know good and well I would have won that dance contest with Walter if you had not butted in and got him all confused.”

“Trying to count past one hundred confused Walter,” Patty scoffs. “And I wasn’t about to let you dance in a dance competition with my boyfriend!”

“He wasn’t your boyfriend when we signed up for the contest,” Muriel says.

“If you thought he was such a dumbass, why was he your boyfriend?” Wilson asks Patty. “I distinctly remember asking you to homecoming that year. You and I could’ve entered that dance competition in the spring.”

“Back then I was into dating dumbasses,” Patty says. “It was way easier to get them to do what I wanted. Smart guy like you always wanted to have a say.”

Wilson chuckles. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You dodged a bullet,” Muriel says.

“You take that back!” Patty points at her sister.

“I will not! Margaret Ashford got the trophy that year and it’s all your fault.”

“For God's sake, that was sixty years ago!”

“Oh, would you like me to talk about the ways you have screwed me over that are more recent?” Muriel says. “Because you know I can.”

Patty grabs a cupcake off of the food table and lifts it menacingly. “Your inability to forgive and forget must be your greatest character flaw. And trust me, you have many, sister dear.”

Muriel grabs a mini pumpkin cheesecake—that Sutton brought, and that seems very much like the ones my stalker brought me last week, incidentally—and lifts it. “That is certainly the pot calling the kettle black.”

I reach Muriel's side just as her arm starts to come forward. I grab the mini cheesecake.

“Oh no you don’t,” I tell her. “Not these.” I pop it in my mouth.

She’s so startled that she stares at me for a moment, then bursts into laughter.

“Trust me,” I tell her around cheesecake and whipped cream. “It would be a travesty to waste these and you know it would not settle this argument.”

Muriel and Patty have had fights that have resulted in gardening soil thrown at gardening club, paint thrown at crafting club, books thrown at book club, and otter poop thrown at otter club.

Generally, when the twin sisters are both around, people know they might need to duck.