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“Bard. So close to home, that’s lovely. Your parents must have loved your sense of loyalty and family.”

Fifteen minutes away and they barely saw me for four years but sure, let’s pretend. “I love my hometown and wanted a true liberal arts experience.”

I also wanted to sleep with free spirits, all races of men, and blow off class for theater or clubbing in Manhattan by train. “I thought it best to turn down Princeton, Emory, Villanova, Columbia, and Duke to stay close to home.” I only got into Columbia and Duke, but you can’t research that shit. I went to Bard because of its stoner ranking, my parents begged me to go to Columbia. But they couldn’t deny Bard is an excellent school. My velvet rebellion, a little for them, a silent fuck you from me. If I didn’t go there, I wouldn’t have Ginny in my life, so it all worked out the way it should

“An excellent answer.”

“I’ve nothing to hide. You may ask me anything. Within reason, of course.”

That high-pitched grating laugh emanates from her flawlessly lined fuchsia lips again. I giggle a laugh perfected at cotillion and abandoned by my sophomore year of college. I pull it out for charity events and extended family dinners with cousins and aunts. I don’t believe my actual friends have ever heard it. Mine’s good but Courtney’s is better. She was always better at the cotillion shit than I was. I’m going to channel my inner Court for this adventure.

Birdie places her hands around mine dragging me inside. No. Gots to go.

“We’re going to have so much fun together. I wasn’t aware Zane was here yet.” Lie. She paid for the plane.

“He was trying to give me a moment to freshen up.” She pats my hand softly in rhythm as if trying to put me in a trance.

She smiles a tight smile. “Hawaii is a brutal trip, but worth it. Oh, how rude of me, coffee?”

She pulls me inside but I can get through anything if there’s coffee. “Thank you. I’d love some. I’m just going to call Zane, so he doesn’t worry.”

“I’ll call him. Kalani, please pour two coffees. We only have decaf, dear, but I’m sure that’s not a problem.” Decaf is a huge problem. I’d rather drink dirty bark tea.

I rapidly text as his mother calls him. I hear her in the other room as my phone pings.

“...Darling, you’ll never guess whom I...”

ZANE: I’m so SORRY!! The front desk must have called her.

“...lovely but I sure wish you gave me that arrival time...planned my day more accordingly...have to ambush your poor fiancée...”

KAT: DECAF is being fetched. Made up some shit. I work in art.

ZANE: Such a lie. On my way.

Birdie continues to chirp at Zane. “It’s a bit late for apologies...I raised you better than that...your sister’s here.” Birdie turns to an arriving guest as I hold my tepid black decaf that is light and sweet, the way no one I know takes it.

“Sweetie, so glad you’re here. We left Stacey to her own devices, and she chose stargazer lilies and spider mums.”

A chill runs down my spine like PTSD from the flower discussions attached to Courtney’s failed wedding. Sweetie. Worst nickname ever. Jesus, is that her real name?

KAT: What’s your sister’s name?

ZANE: Shit. Sorry. Sweetie. Be warned the name is ironic.

That can’t be fucking true.

KAT: Shut your ass up about Kaiser.

ZANE:

Her daughter responds, “Mother, how could you let this happen? Oh, hello there. Excuse me for interrupting.”

I stretch out my hand to Birdie’s younger doppelgänger. It’s overlooked. But she looks at the ring with envy. I hope it’s not a family ring. Birdie hasn’t said a word. It would be bad show to rubberneck the hardware. Time to kill Zane for this the selfish asshole.

“Sweetie, this is Kat Taylor; Kat, my daughter Sweetie.”

“Lovely to meet you.” I nod.