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“I’m telling you, you gotta let me take you to this stylist. She is magic!” It was not the first time Rory was hearing Lizzy brag about her stylist, but for Rory the idea of spending a hundred dollars on a haircut was insanity. She never even mentioned to Lizzy that she trimmed her hair herself. Besides, I’ll probably get a free updo at Tara’s wedding. At least one good thing will come out of it.
“Good sales?” Lizzy asked as Rory logged onto her online T-shirts shop.
Rory had been sure that this idea would work. People loved wearing funny, unique T-shirts, and people loved shopping on the internet. The idea couldn’t possibly fail. Besides, if she wasn’t making any money from the bookshop, she had to find an alternate source of income. But a year after setting up her own shop and putting up a hundred T-shirts designs for sale, she still struggled to make a consistent income that barely covered her expenses.
“Good enough.” Rory faked a smile. “Hey, how was your weekend, Lizzy?”
“O.M.G. it was awesome! I met a bunch of friends from high school and we went shopping, got ourselves dolled up, and hit some clubs and I swear, not kidding, that I spotted Brad Pitt.” Lizzy’s eyes were huge, her voice reaching its highest pitch as her hands flew up in the air.
“Here? On our little island? Brad Pitt?” Rory smiled. Lizzy claimed to have seen all the big celebrities in the world at some point or another. This celeb spotting was as hard to believe as all the others, but Rory didn’t contradict her.
“Did you blow him a kiss?”
“I wish. He was in the VIP area and we were down below. But I did scream ‘I love you, Brad!’” Lizzy shouted to the ceiling as if Brad himself were suspended there. Rory laughed. She might live in a dreamland, but she sure is a constant source of entertainment. Lizzy was like the younger sister she’d always wanted.
After the whirlwind of USC, Rory’s life in Montcove wasn’t so bad. She lived in a pretty house, had the adorable Lizzy for company, and was well loved among the other locals she knew. It was only when she browsed her sister’s Facebook feed and saw her living the perfect American life with her fiancé that she felt depressed and even jealous, though she would rarely admit it.
She had no one to call her own. No future prospects. No townhouse at a prime location or a job that was almost like a money tree. It also reminded her how disappointed her parents must be in her. That was one of the reasons why she hated family events; they were simply an unending paean to her sister's accomplishments. Tara practically printed money and got one promotion after another while Rory, after countless failed jobs, was struggling to sell T-shirts online.
Tara is going to have a perfect wedding with the perfect husband and lead a perfect life, while I’m probably going to die all by myself in this huge house. Rory sat back and stared at the bottom of the almost-finished coffee cup. It never gets easy, does it? she thought, her thoughts veering back to the bills and notices that lay on the side table in her bedroom.
“You know who else I saw?” Lizzy continued. “Martha.”
“Martha? Martha Stewart?” Rory raised a brow, ready to doubt another name drop.
“No, silly, Martha from the bakery. She’s making her way to the door right now.”
Rory turned and a smile grew on her face. Martha, the old lady who owned the German bakery and who was her grandmother’s closest friend, was walking in the door. Jeez, when was the last time I saw her?
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“How are you, hon’?” Martha asked, as Rory embraced her. Right behind her was Sharon, one of the neighbors. Sharon was stay-at-home-mother to three children, who were not the most well-behaved.
“I’m good. And you... you look good too.” Rory smiled back.
“You still got this one around, I see.” Martha nodded at Lizzy, who in turn went bright red. Martha was always chiding the girl to be more ladylike, and Rory was convinced that Lizzy was terrified of the old lady. If it weren’t for the insanely good cupcakes Martha made, Lizzy probably wouldn’t step within a hundred feet of her.
“Sharon was at the bakery and mentioned that she was coming here, so I thought I’d surprise you as well. Not like you ever bother to visit this poor old woman,” Martha went on.
“It’s not that and you know it. It’s just been so busy.” Rory was looking for excuses, but her mind was going blank. “You know Tara’s getting married and there’s so much to do, and the shop and …life in general,” she sighed.
“That little sister of yours? Married? God save the poor fella.” As Martha made the sign of a cross, even Lizzy let out a chuckle, though sheepishly. Tara had never been kind to Lizzy, bullying her constantly.
“Yes, in two weeks. He’s in the same line of work as she is. My mother is pretty excited.” Rory kept a polite smile on her face.
“Well, good for her,” Martha replied. Rory could feel that there was a question in there somewhere. And what about you, Rory?
“Rory, I need some storybooks. Some with a lot of pictures to keep my boys quiet. I barely have a moment for myself and I am not sure how much more of it I can take,” Sharon said as she browsed the shelves.
“Sure thing. There are tons of them here. Lizzy, show her around, will you please?” Rory replied and escorted Martha to the coffee table they had set up by the counter for people who wanted to read in the store. It hadn’t seen much occupancy of late.
As curious as she was, Martha didn’t prod much or ask questions Rory wasn’t ready to answer. Instead, she spent the next hour gossiping with Rory—about people they knew, about people only she knew and about her incompetent kitchen staff.
Lizzy had prepared some tea and opened the bag of goodies that Martha had brought for them. It had been a long time since they had tea like this. When Grandma Colleen was alive, it happened almost daily. It had a sense of familiarity, of comfort. Like slipping into a comfy, old pair of jeans.
By the time the two women left, it was well past lunchtime and Rory was left with Lizzy blabbing on and on in her ear. Lizzy’s lack of ambition and intelligence got to her at times, but she reminded herself that not everyone has to have the same kind of goals that she herself had in life.
Goals that I have not done anything about. Rory stopped herself before she slid down a dark hole of self-pity. She had enough to worry about already, like fitting into that damn dress and making it through another family gathering.
