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I was sneaking in working on them any time I could get. Between our busy holiday class schedule at the studio and the large stained glass piece of a dove with a starburst behind it a pastor had commissioned for his church in Carrington Cove that was being renovated, I’d had to start working late into the night in the loft above the studio I’d moved into a few years ago with Dani and Kinsley. It was a great way to save money. And I enjoyed not being home alone every night.
Dani was tapping her fingers against our table that frequently functioned as my workspace, and Kinsley was twirling her long blonde hair as I wrapped copper tape around a piece of stained glass shaped like the crook of a candy cane. Something was definitely up, but neither of them was being forthcoming, so I changed the subject.
“How are restaurant and non-profit life going?” I asked.
Kinsley had opened a new restaurant called Two Girls and a Guy with some friends she’d met at culinary school. It was an awkward situation, if you asked me. One Dani and I had warned her about. Not only was the restaurant theme based on love triangles, but it was obvious Kinsley and Gisele both had a thing for Carter, their other partner.
Not that Dani had a lot of room to talk. She had her own weird triangle thing going on. She was in love with Brock Holland, who might have feelings for her as well, but I swore his identical twin, Brant, also had feelings for Dani. Brock and Brant Holland lived nearby in Carrington Cove and were from a wealthy and powerful family. Their dad owned a gas and oil company here in Colorado and had been a US senator. Dani, Brock, and Brant had a three-musketeer vibe between them. She even had a “Dani test” that all the women the brothers dated had to pass.
Basically, we were all a mess when it came to love.
“Our holiday donations for Children to Love are up this year,” Dani answered first. Children to Love was the non-profit she ran for kids still in the foster system and for those that had aged out. She and her organization made sure each child in a foster home in the three surrounding counties received a Christmas gift every year. They also provided mentors and job training for those aging out of the system. I had hired a great young woman who’d graduated from their program to help in the studio. She answered the phones for us and handled all our scheduling. Dani was doing great things. It was amazing considering where she came from, a child of the system herself.
“That’s great,” I commented while smoothing out the copper tape. “The donation box at the studio is full already. I’ll make sure to drop off the toys during lunch tomorrow.”
“I can grab them in the morning and take them in,” Dani offered.
“I suppose that would work too.” I grinned.
Kinsley, with her nervous energy, jumped up. “I’ve been working on a new chocolate peanut butter dessert. Do you want to try it?”
Chocolate and peanut butter were my true loves. “Always yes, but first, why don’t you tell me what you’re both hiding from me.”
Dani and Kinsley gave each other uh-oh looks.
“That bad, huh?” I set down the piece I was working on.
Kinsley sat back down while Dani let her gorgeous ebony hair out of her ponytail. Her hair fell nicely at her shoulders. I looked between my two friends, sisters really, wondering who would cave first.
In their silence, I reflected on how thankful I was Grandma and Grandpa brought them into our lives. We may not look a thing like each other, but we were family in the truest sense of the word. Dani with her olive skin and grey eyes looked as if she had some Middle Eastern blood in her, but like me, she only ever knew her mother, who was Caucasian, so it was only a guess. Kinsley and I both had fair skin, but she looked like an all-American girl with her blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was cute and perky, the youngest of us at twenty-eight. Dani was thirty-three, so that made me the oldest “sister” at thirty-five. I was neither cute and perky nor exotically beautiful. I was more of a hot mess, emphasis on mess. I was a throw my hair in a messy bun or put a hat on if I didn’t have time, baggy jeans, and loose t-shirts and sweaters kind of girl. And shoes only when necessary, which was more than I liked since I worked with sharp objects and 350-degree solder irons.
“I assume no one we know died, since there are no tears,” I threw out into the silent abyss.
