Page 13 of Look on the Bright Side

She finished up, said goodbye to the nurses and techs, made a note to bring in cookies so everyone would like her. Then she swung up to Hospice. Darlene, the director, wasn’t there, so Lark left her a note about hoping to volunteer, even informally, over the summer, wherever they might be able to use her.

On her way to the parking lot, she checked her phone.

Ah. Lorenzo Santini had deigned to answer her.

Check your email.

She did. No note. Just his CV.

Taking the chance that he might answer, she called him. It went straight to voice mail. “Hello, this is your fake girlfriend calling,” she said. “Since Memorial Day is five days from now, I’m going to need something other than your GPA and list of fellowships. Did you play sports in high school? What was the name of your dog growing up? Your middle name? Favorite food? Books you like to read. Things you do for fun, if you have fun, that is. Names and ages of your siblings. Your address, maybe.”

Then she got into her car and headed for her sister’s house. She’d lie to her coworkers. Not her family. Dr.Satan would have to deal.

•••

Esme and Imogen tackled her as she walked into Addie and Nicole’s house. “Auntie, I’m your favorite, right? Right?” Esme said.

“No, I favorite!” three-year-old Imogen declared.

“No you’re not. I’m much older,” Esme said.

“You’re both my favorites,” Lark said, grabbing a niece in each arm and smooching their beautiful cheeks, inhaling the smell of sun and shampoo in their hair.

“Oh, it’s you,” Nicole said. “Addie didn’t tell me you were coming for dinner. Addie, why didn’t you tell me Lark was coming? I thought she was at work! Now I have to reset the table.”

“I don’t have to stay, Nicole,” Lark said. “You’re having company?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Addie said, bursting into the room, her voice loud and hard. “It’s always okay, and you can always stay for dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Or brunch. You can sleep in bed with us if you want to. Back off, Nicole. It’s my sister.”

“Like I could forget,” Nicole said. But she gave Lark a begrudging smile.

“It sucks to be married to a twin,” Lark said, smiling back. After all, Addie’s wife had a clone whose bond had begun at the moment of conception. It was hard to compete, and Nicole liked to win, even if no one else was playing.

“Got a second?” she asked Addison, setting the girls down.

“Not really. Family dinner. I texted you to see if you were free, but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry. My first day in the ER.”

“Right! How was it?”

“Kind of good, actually,” she said. Not that she’d stay there, of course. “Who’s coming tonight?”

“Everyone. Except Frances,” Addie said, naming Grandpop’s significant other. “Her daughter’s visiting or something. Can you watch the girls while I finish up in the kitchen?”

“Sure. My favorite thing to do.”

The girls were parked in front of their dollhouse in the vast playroom. “No, you make dinner!” Esme said, sounding very much like Nicole in tone. “I’m very busy and important!”

“No, I important!” Imogen’s dollhouse person attacked Esme’s, and the girls snarled and laughed. Perhaps a teeny bit concerning, their eerily accurate reflection of their mothers’ dynamic, but they were kids. She watched for a moment, smiling, remembering similar times with her own sisters. Esme looked just like Addie (and therefore Lark, a thrill that could not be understated). Someday, she’d have her own kids, maybe. Hopefully. For now, she had her nieces.

Her phone buzzed…another email from Lorenzo. (She was working on not thinking of him as Dr.Satan.) He’d typed out her questions and answered them.

Did you play sports in high school? Baseball

What was the name of your dog growing up? Remy

Lark put those two facts together and guessed the dog was named after Jerry Remy, the great Sox player turned announcer. Not that original, not in Massachusetts. At least the dog hadn’t been named Fenway.

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