a moment, that it wasn’t a fragment of poetry but a line from the musical Cats.
Mae was going on and on about Amanda’s hair. “Seriously, it’s so fresh. You should have done this years ago! It’s so—I mean, you just look so fab, and young, and cute, and with your height—I wish I could carry that off. I’d just look like I got a mom cut, I know I would. And it’s going to be so easy!”
Great. That translated to, You look like an old lady who will need to get her hair set every week, and I would never, ever do that. Amanda should have found that baseball cap. “I think I hate it,” she said.
“No, it’s lit. Really. It’s cool even for New York, because it’s so artsy and unique. And you don’t even have any gray yet, do you? I have to cover mine every six weeks already.”
Amanda shook her head about the gray hair—there, one advantage to being younger—but she was still stuck on the double-edged sword of “unique.” Unique good, or unique weird? “Not yet,” she said, and then, finally, the kids rolled out of the car, one after the other, and stopped short at the sight of her. Mae scooped up Ryder, who lifted the stuffed toy he held clutched in his hand to his mouth before Mae gently pushed it away.
It was the chicken she’d sent him when he was born. Amanda was surprised—and delighted. She wouldn’t have thought her sister would care about that at all. She smiled and touched the chicken’s dirty wing, gently. “Hi, Ryder,” she said.
Ryder buried his face and the chicken in Mae’s shoulder, but Amanda didn’t give up. “I sent you that chicken,” she said softly. “When you were a little baby. I’m glad he’s so loved. What’s his name?”
Ryder said something she didn’t understand, and Madison reached up and held his foot. “It used to be Chicken but now it’s Rawlings,” she said. “Daddy named it. Rydie still calls it Chicken, though.”
Mae set Ryder down and crouched behind both children. “Give your aunt Amanda a hug, then,” she said. Madison hesitated, and Ryder backed into Mae as Amanda held up her hands and took a step back.
“No way,” she said. “I haven’t earned a hug yet, right, guys? I can’t hug you. I just met you.” She crossed her arms and made a pouty face, and Madison giggled. “No hugs for you. Maybe later.” Mae met Amanda’s eyes with a look that said she’d noticed Amanda’s implied critique but was ignoring it, and then her attention was caught by someone coming down the sidewalk, a girl Amanda didn’t recognize, carrying two cups from Patrick’s.
Mae stood up and waved. “There she is,” Mae said. “The lattes at that new place, 1908 something, are to die for. Jessa brought me one, and I already sent her for a second. I should have had her grab you one, too. Have you been? Main Street is so different. You never told me someone reopened the five-and-dime, and it’s totally cute now. Or about the craft store. Or the bookstore. They had my book in the window!”
“Of course I’ve been to Patrick’s,” Amanda said. No one called it the 1908 Standard, no matter what it said on the sign. “They have the best coffee in town. Plus, that’s part of Kenneth’s place. His bed-and-breakfast, the one they’ve been renovating for years. You’re on Facebook, Mae; you have to know this stuff. Patrick is Kenneth’s husband, and they came back a while ago and redid the old inn, and there is no way you could have missed it. They put up pictures every day for months.”
Mae looked down for a second, then straight at Amanda. “I haven’t spoken to Kenneth since we graduated, except at your wedding,” she said. “I’m not Facebook friends with anyone from Merinac except you.”
Amanda was shocked. “But that’s the whole point of Facebook. To keep up with people. You’re on Facebook all the time. What the hell are you doing? And Kenneth was your best friend. I know you dropped everyone when you went to college, but Kenneth? Plus his place is gorgeous. I can’t believe you aren’t staying there.”
“I’m close enough to Mom’s house as it is,” Mae said. “Look, Kenneth went and did his thing. I did mine. And now I’m back, and I will say hi and drink his husband’s unbelievable coffee, and what really matters, especially if he owns a business on Main,