The Sullivan Sisters - Kathryn Ormsbee Page 0,97

She swept them across the table, orchestrating a dance—curves and spirals and pirouettes, changing hands from the first cup to second to third. She carried on a minute, so long that Eileen began to chuckle.

Finally, she brought the cups to a resting position, forming their perfect line.

“All right,” she said. “Where’s the ring?”

Eileen leaned forward and, with boundless confidence, picked up the centermost cup.

There was no ring underneath.

“Shit,” she said. “Really thought I had it.”

Murphy turned to Claire with a solemn, professional air. “Did you have a different cup in mind?”

Claire licked her pink-stained lips. After deliberation, she pointed at the left-hand tumbler.

Murphy raised it.

The ring wasn’t there.

Then Murphy made the first of her “ta-da” moves: She lifted the right-hand cup.

There was no ring.

Claire gasped, and Murphy’s heart filled with joy. She didn’t let on, though. The trick wasn’t over.

“Huh!” she said, maintaining the act. “How strange. It’s seems the ring has disappeared.”

She placed the three cups back in position.

“Let me try one last thing,” she said.

She began the dance again: carving, whirling, circling. She drew the cups around the table with fluid finesse.

Then she brought them to a stop.

“Leenie,” she said. “Check your cup again.”

Eileen did. She grabbed it with the fervor of a little kid, and there, on the table, was the ring.

“Knew it,” she said, scooping it up. With satisfaction, she slid it on her finger. “Perfect fit.”

“Is that the ring you handled before?” Murphy asked, still all business.

Eileen held her hand close to her face and darted her tongue out. “Sure tastes the same.”

“Claire,” Murphy said. “Check the left cup.”

Claire lifted it from the table as though afraid she might be letting out a monster.

There was no monster, though. There was another ring.

“Whoa,” said Eileen, while Claire picked up the ring, mystification on her face.

“Is that the ring you handled before?”

“It … sure looks like it.”

Grinning triumphantly, Murphy removed the last tumbler from the table, revealing a third ring. She picked it up, face aglow.

“Three rings for the three of us,” she announced.

“Damn, Murph,” said Eileen. “You’ve gotten good.”

Claire was still studying her ring, and for a moment, Murphy felt uncertain. “I know it’s not nice jewelry. Not the kind you make. But it’s for you to keep. For us to remember each other by.”

“You make it sound like we’re going off to war,” snorted Eileen.

“Well, okay.” Murphy shrugged. “Make it morbid, if you want.”

Claire’s eyes met Murphy’s, holding them in a solemn stare. “It’s perfect, Murph,” she said. “I’ve never made anything this good.”

Murphy couldn’t keep down her grin any longer. She’d done it. She’d finished the act, and she hadn’t made a mistake. What’s more, she’d had a willing audience.

“Three rings,” Eileen mused. “You know, this is probably going to turn our skin green.”

Murphy kept grinning. “I thought it’d be a nice magic start to the year.”

“Damn straight.” Eileen flashed her hand. “This thing’s not coming off. I mean, not if it’s magical.”

“Three rings for the three of us,” Claire said, softly.

“Sullivan sisters forever,” Murphy added.

The days of Operation Memory Making were over. The days of Simply Being Together were here.

So the memory of Cayenne Castle remained, kept alive by a planner, a visionary, and a performer.

It was an auspicious beginning, and as for its end …

Well, you’d have to ask the Sullivan sisters themselves.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you, Beth Phelan, for cheering on Eileen, Claire, and Murphy from the very beginning, and thank you to everyone at Gallt & Zacker for the ongoing support. Thank you, Zareen Jaffery, for seeing me through our fourth novel together and for believing in the Sullivan sisters’ story in all its zany iterations. My thanks to Alexa Pastor, Andre Wheeler, and Dainese Santos for your behind-the-scenes help and e-mailed assistance. Thank you, Heather McLeod, for your incisive copyedits. Thank you to Chloë Foglia for the stunning cover design, to Danielle Davis for the rockin’ lettering, and to Pedro Tapa for an illustration that captures the sisters so perfectly. And big thanks to everyone else at Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers who made this novel’s publication possible.

The usual suspects, you know who you are, and I’m so grateful for you. It’s been ten years since we met across the pond, Shelly, and you’re still the best Little Miss Twin around. Destiny, you’re the Louise to my Tina. Nicole, stay fabulous and give Harmony a treat from me. Mai, my fellow Marco Polo-er, by the time you read this we WILL have conquered The Brothers Karamazov. Kayla, thanks for keeping our kitchen twatwaffle-free. Shannon, my witchy friend, I can’t wait to see what adventures await you in New England. Hilary, you’re the bee’s knees, the giraffe’s neck, the anteater’s tongue! Sasha, you’re the coolest gal I know, and you make it Clown But Fashion every day. Libby, thanks for being such a rad college-but-not-college friend. Lastly, all my literary love to the ladies of Phoebe’s Book Club.

Thank you to Jen at Pop! Goes the Reader for being a fearless, indefatigable book blogger from the day I e-met you. Thank you to Kristen, librarian extraordinaire, and to Seoling, publishing wonder, for your friendship and care packages and general brilliance. Thank you, too, to teachers, librarians, and bloggers—those I have and have not met—for all you do for young readers and the YA community. You have my eternal gratitude.

Thank you, Mom and Dad, for always supporting my writing, and my thanks to the extended family for your love and encouragement. Thank you, Annie and Matt, for first introducing me to the state that would one day become my home and the inspiration for this novel. It’s the best thing, being neighbors with you. Thank you to Bob, Vicki, and Megan for accepting me into your magnificent family.

Alli, thank you for loving me; for moving cross-country in only a car, with a dog; and for making this new home with me in Oregon. Thank you for cherishing my stories from the day we met. The story I cherish most is the one we share.

And thank you, dear reader, for journeying to the coast and back with me. May you never be afraid to build and rebuild Cayenne Castles of your own.