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It was her oldest sister, Cat. Sam had changed the ringtone when she was here last summer, and Megan hadn’t had the heart to change it back.
“Hey,” she said into the phone.
“And to you,” Cat said. “Need you for something.”
Megan glanced at her computer clock. She had twenty minutes to finish up her work and get outside to Alessandro. And much as she would do anything for her sisters and brother, much as she owed them, right now she could do without Cat asking a favor.
“What do you need?” she said.
“When you come over Sunday, can you bring a few dozen of those mini-brownies you make? The boys’ b-ball team is coming over for the afternoon, and there isn’t a sheet cake in the world…”
Typical Cat.Herbirthday was this weekend, butshewas the one planning the party—two parties, it sounded like. This was why Megan couldn’t make fun of her, at least not to her face.
Cat’s twin boys, seniors in high school, took up everyone’s lives with basketball most months. A little thing like turning forty-six wasn’t going to stop that schedule.
“I wish you’d just let us take you out to dinner,” Megan said for the fiftieth time.
“That’s more trouble than it’s worth,” Cat said. “Finding a table for all of us, fitting everyone’s preferences, dressing up? Pfft. Anyway, Ellen’s bringing her barbecue chicken.”
Megan’s stomach rumbled. This was why she couldn’t argue with Cat. The woman always had a point. Megan loved eating at her house, and the only way to mitigate the guilt of all the work it caused Cat was to provide as much food as possible.
“Of course I’ll bring the brownies,” she promised. She had nothing else to do on a Sunday morning, especially without projects to finish up at work. “What else?”
“I’ll tell you if I think of something.”
Megan would bring wine and fancy Italian beer for Antonio, Cat’s husband, but any other idea she had would end up in the back of the refrigerator, ignored, judging Megan for her presumption.
“Okay, gotta go make dinner,” Cat said. “See you Sunday at eleven.”
Megan noted the time diligently on her calendar, as though she’d forget. Sundays were sacrosanct at the creaky old Fielding home where Cat and Antonio lived, forty minutes out of the city. Megan could try to be late, but she’d just get the Wrinkled Nose of Disappointment, and Kane would start up about how Cat was too harsh about everything. It was easier just to be on time.
“Bye,” she said, but she’d hardly pressed the button on the phone before she became aware of a person standing at her cubicle.
“Hey, Megan?” Britney, her coworker, asked.
“Yeah?” she said, spinning around in her chair.
“You doing anything right now? I wondered if you could help me with this conference next week.”
“You’re not worried about it, are you?” Britney had trained under Megan this year and was going in her place. Megan wasfinewith it.
“Well…” Britney flopped into the chair in the next cubicle. Megan gave a subtle glance at her computer clock. Nine minutes to get packed up and all the way downstairs. “See, I know I did good on the Northwest Regional presentation materials, but they haven’t asked me to write a speech for next week, so I must have done something wrong.”
“You’re the queen of PowerPoint, Britney,” she said. “Everyone knows that. They’re using your strengths. And I’ve been writing most of Kane’s speeches this year. That’s just how it’s shaken out.” And, of course, Megan knew Kane’s every mannerism, and she knew his cadences better than anyone, except Leo.
“But you’re leaving soon, and someone will have to write your brother’s speeches. I want to work with your brother more. And Leo started asking more of the rest of us to—”
“You’re right.” Megan patted her knees with her hands in the classicit’s time to end this conversationmanner. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sure your speeches will be great. You should talk to Leo about it.”
“But you have a great way with words. Can I take you out to dinner so you can help me with Leo without shooting myself in the foot?”
Now Megan fisted her hands in her lap. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I have plans.”
Sheneversaid no. Her skin began to crawl as Britney frowned at her. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated.
“Who with?”
“A—a friend.” The skin crawling got worse. Everyone knew what “a friend” meant. And Alessandro wasn’t that. Those two words could start a rumor that would be around the entire ninth floor by seven o’clock the next morning. “I mean, a—a client.”
