Page 63 of Call It Serendipity

“Don’t be silly,” I say, shimming out of his embrace and motioning to the food. “Have dinner with us.”

“You’re sure?” She stretches her neck forward to better see the spread.

“Of course.”

A relieved grin fills her face. “Thank goodness because this smells great.” It’s then that she glances down to where her fingers are tangled in Bear’s fur. “Also, do we have a second dog now?”

Jake rolls his eyes and mumbles, “It took her way too long to notice.”

I slap his arm and turn my attention back to his little sister. “You do for now. Jake agreed to foster Bear.”

Taylor bends forward and says in a mock whisper to the dogs, “Aren’t we lucky that my brother’s got it so bad?”

He doesn’t object or shrink away from the accusation. Instead, he winks at me—slow and sure. A responding thrill coasts down my spine.

My hand drapes over his forearm, and I say directly to him, “We certainly are.”

35

When we were growing up, I found an ally in Taylor. From the day she was born, I decided it would be her and I against the harsh world of the Carpenter dynasty. She needed that support, and often says I have always been there to take care of her.

But the truth is, I needed my sister too.

She came along, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t alone anymore. I had a person to share a look with when our parents became stuck in their ways. Someone that knew what I was thinking—and was thinking the same thing.

Or so I thought.

As I bore my stare into Taylor, more pointed and determined than ever before, she appears clueless to what I’m thinking.

Instead of reading my thoughts, she twirls her spaghetti around her fork and puts way too much food in her mouth. “So, Lucy,” she says through the oversized bite, “my brother tells me you’re secretive about the paintings you’re working on.”

“I did not say that,” I correct quickly.

She has been relentless, monopolizing the conversation through all of dinner. A dinner that was supposed to be just Lucy and me.

“My creative process is very fluid,” Lucy replies politely, a spark of amusement in her eyes as they flit over to me. “If I talk about something before it’s done, there’s no guarantee it’ll end up as I say anyway.”

“How do you know when a piece is done then?”

I wait, preparing to jump in and change this line of questioning. Preparing to protect Lucy from having to talk about her artist block.

But she doesn’t need me.

She tilts her head to the side, her bangs brushing over her eyes. “Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Sometimes I just have to trust that the piece will tell me that it’s ready.”

“I wish I had a talent like that,” Taylor mumbles, dropping her attention to her plate. “I wish I had any kind of passion like the two of you.”

“You’ll find your thing,” I say, softening the pinch in my brow. “Besides, what do you mean by the two of us? It’s not like my passion is working for Dad.”

“Really? You get along with him so well,” she snorts. “But I’m talking about that secretive thing you and Tad used to whisper about all the time. I don’t know what it was, but you would get so excited about it.”

I hesitate, thinking of late meetings over drinks. Just enough alcohol to turn a whim into something that felt possible. I probably was excited back then.

“Were you planning to create something?” Lucy guesses.

“Yeah.” I nod. “As a matter of fact, we planned to create a lot of things back then.”

With a swift stab of my fork, I collect the last bit of lettuce from my salad and deposit it in my mouth. I crunch down on the crisp iceberg wedge and think about the notebook I filled with fleeting ideas that eventually took root. They’re still there, having woven deeper into my being and settled patiently, waiting to grow.