Page 18 of A Constant Surprise

I asked her if she was close to them, but her smile gave away her answer before she started speaking.

“We are.” She stopped for a moment and stared at her beer as if wondering if she should go on. “My dad worked a lot when we were younger, so I helped to take care of them.”

“Aw, look at you being the doting big sister.” I nudged her playfully. “So, your dad worked a lot. Where was your mom?”

I regretted the words the moment they escaped my lips because Sam’s whole demeanor changed. Her whole body tensed, and she refused to look at me.

Shit. I should have just left it alone.

But before I could tell her to forget the question, she said, “She actually died when I was about to start my senior year of high school.”

Fuck.

“Shit, Sam. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine really. She was sick for a long time, and I like to think that maybe now she’s in a better place.”

I wanted to know more and ask her to spill all of her secrets.

But I didn’t. I wasn’t going to push her away with my prying curiosity.

I was thinking of any possible change of subject, but before I could find a reasonable transition into another topic, the timer on the oven went off.

Saved by the bell. Thank God.

“Sam, this lasagna is amazing!” I said in between shoveling large bites in my mouth.

“Thanks. Glad you like it,” she said with a proud smile.

“I want you to know that you don’t have to cook for me though. I mean it’s not like I expect anything just because you’re staying here now.”

“I know. And I know that Jacinda’s cooking puts mine to shame. Hands down. Her tamales are heaven. But I like making myself useful too. Plus, it’s nice to give Jacinda a break.”

I was going to argue with her and tell her that there’s no way I could ever find her anything but “useful”, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me anyway. I wondered why she had such a low opinion of herself.

We ate in a comfortable silence for a while before she spoke again. “So, did you grow up here in Boston?”

“No. New York. We spent most of the year in the city, but we had a house in the Hamptons that we would go to for the summer.”

Her eyes rolled at my mention of having two homes. I wasn’t trying to brag, but I wasn’t going to water down my wealth if she wanted to get to know the real me.

“What about you? Where are you from?”

“A small town in Kansas called Armstrong.”

“Ah. I should have known you were a Midwestern girl.” I shot her a wink.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, you definitely don’t’ have the mannerisms of a New Yorker. You’re way nicer. When we go places, you open the door for people and say please and thank you religiously.”

“Don’t people do that everywhere?”

I laughed at her naivety. “No, Sam. I can tell you that in New York, please and thank you are rarities.”

“Hmm,” was all that she said.

“Plus, you call soda ‘pop’.”

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