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“I can see why. You’re brilliant, Chey.” Hearing my sister say that filled me with so much joy, I worried that it was going to burst from the top of my head and spill over. “Man, I wish I had even an ounce of your talent. I’m so jealous right now.”
I knew my smile probably looked ridiculously goofy, but I didn’t care. In that moment, memories of the past came flooding back. The space between when we were born might have only been minutes, but Charlotte had always taken her role as the oldest very seriously. She was my big sister, my protector. And as the “little” sister, her approval had always made me feel ten feet tall.
“Yeah, well, I could never in a million years dance like you do. I look like a fish flopping around on dry land.”
I learned that Charlotte was a performer at a burlesque club in Virginia called Whiskey Dolls. After a quick Google search, I’d discovered that the club was insanely popular, and people came from all over to check out the shows the Whiskey Dolls put on. I’d even found some videos online, and I totally understood why the club had the level of prestige it did. From the snippets I’d seen, the girls were unbelievable.
Charlotte and her friends were professionals at commanding that stage. All I had to watch was some grainy cellphone video, but I was still enraptured.
“Trent has a piece of yours over at his place. I saw it yesterday. It really is stunning.”
“He showed you?” I asked before I could stop myself. When I’d climbed into bed the night before, I’d berated myself for how hard I’d leaned on Trent. For how much I’d needed him on such an important day. He’d lied and deceived me since day one, and I didn’t want to feel safe in his presence, but I did. Damn him, I still did.
She gave me a curious look, and I suspected that Trent had filled her and Dalton in on every detail of what had transpired between us. “He keeps it out on the coffee table,” she informed me. “I saw it last night and asked him about it. He told us how talented you are.”
“He said that?” I was caught off guard, and I didn’t have time to hide my reaction before she saw it.
“Do you . . . want to talk about it? I mean, him in particular? I know we’ve just reconnected, and we’ve never really done the whole talking-about-boys thing, but if you want—”
I cut her off. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to talk about.”
It took no effort at all to read her expression clear as day. She knew I was full of shit. Fortunately, Renee took that moment to interrupt us.
Skipping up from her little station at the back of my workshop, she thrust her arms toward Charlotte, a painted mug that hadn’t had a chance to dry yet clasped between her chubby, now-colorful hands. “I made dis fow you, Aunt Pwincess.”
Ever since I told her that Charlotte was the princess in the bedtime story I’d been telling her for the longest time, she’d taken to calling her Aunt Princess, something my sister absolutely adored. Dalton was still a little on the fence about his new name. Renee had a bit of trouble pronouncing ‘Dalton,’ so she’d taken to calling him Uncle Dolly for short. Something that gave the rest of us endless amusement.
“Oh wow.” She went down to her knees in front of Renee, reaching out to take the coffee cup, not caring in the slightest she was getting paint all over her hands. “This is mine? I can keep it?”
“Yeah! It’s a pwesent. You like it?”
“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been given, honey,” Charlotte exclaimed, the honesty of that statement radiating from her skin like a warm, soft halo of light. The gift my baby girl had made for her really and truly was the best gift she’d ever received. Her voice was hoarse with emotion as she insisted, “I love it so much.”
“Yay! I’ll make you a fousand mowe!”
“I’d really love that. How about a million? I could put themallover my house.”
Renee sucked in a gasp, her eyes going big. “Dat’s alot.”
She looked at Renee seriously. “I know. Think you’re up for it?”
“Yeah!”
“Come on. I’ll get this fired for you so it sets, and in the meantime, there’s something I want to show you.” I set the mug in a safe place and led the two of them into the house.
In the living room, I sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside me as Renee moved to the toy bin that sat beneath the living room window and started dumping everything out, having lost interest in what the grownups were doing almost immediately. Charlotte sat down beside me, taking the box I passed her and placing it in her lap.
“What is this?” she asked, looking at me quizzically.
After everyone left last night, before going to sleep, I’d dug through my closet, getting down that box that had been everywhere with me, in every place I’d lived for years.
I was giddy with anticipation. “Open it and find out.”
She flipped the lid back and stared down at the contents in silence for a few beats, blinking slowly before realization dawned. “No way!” She snatched up a stack of photos and began rifling through them. “Where did you get these?”
“They were packed up with all our stuff when we went to live with Mom’s cousin. When I left there, that box was one of the very few things I took with me. I didn’t need much as long as I had that. I’ve had it with me ever since.”
“Oh my God!” Her lips split into a smile a mile wide, her face positively glowing as she flipped through the pictures at a rapid pace. Once she made it through the end of the pile, she started all over again, going much slower the second time.
