Page 71 of Tangled Memories
“Noreen has lined up a psychologist from the women’s center to come and talk to us in a couple of weeks. Why don’t you make notes and plan to talk to her? I’m no professional, but from what I overheard, I got the impression Nina is scared of you. She sees you as a threat.”
Stormy gaped. “That’s absurd.”
Sandy shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve always been overshadowed by my older sister. To tell you the truth, it’s intimidating.”
“But you’re doing fine,” Stormy countered.
“Well, gee, around you, it’s easy to be brazen!” She laughed. “I’m not saying your sister is right, or even that she isn’t trying to undermine you, but if you understand her motives—”
“I can try to defuse the situation?”
“Losing my husband, the house, my children seemed to…to sort of highlight the rift between my sister and me. I mean, she had a longer list of why I lost my family than I did. No matter what she does—and that includes two failed marriages—she seems to land on her feet. I used to resent her for that. You’re a lot like her.”
“Then why don’t you resent me?”
“You’re not my big sister giving me advice every time I turn a corner or reminding me that I ruined your best blouse when I was in the sixth grade!”
“I just told Nina to go out and get a job,” Stormy mused aloud.
“I heard. Maybe she panics at the idea of interviews. I did.” Sandy shuddered.
Sandy’s comments were food for thought, Stormy mused, though deep down, she knew there was something far more amiss with Nina than mere panic at job hunting.
“How do you and your sister get along now?” Stormy asked.
Sandy giggled. “Damn! I knew you were going to ask that. Let’s make candles while I think up some nice things to say about her.”
It tookseveral tries and much experimenting, but by the time Liane and her cousins stepped off the school bus and rushed into the garage, Stormy and Sandy had half a dozen apple-and-cinnamon-scented candles standing in a neat row.
“Ooh, light one, Mom,” Liane demanded.
The women looked at each other. “We’d better,” they agreed in unison.
“And time how long it takes to burn itself out,” added Sandy. “That could be a selling point.”
The wick caught on the first try. They all cheered. Stormy shushed them. “Your dad’s sick in bed,” she told the boys.
“We’re really in business,” Sandy whispered, watching the tiny flame wobble and grow stronger. “We really are!” She leaned closer to the flame and sniffed. “It really does smell like apples. People are going to follow their noses right to our stand.”
“Where’s my mother?” Davie asked, reemerging into the garage from the house. “I can’t find her. I’m hungry.”
Stormy looked toward the drive. Nina had been gone an awfully long time for a wife professing concern about a sick husband. She gave a minute of thought to the possibility of car trouble. No. She had new tires. She’d had the Ford serviced only the week before, and, anyway, the phone hadn’t rung. Stormy still hadn’t gotten around to starting up her cell service yet, but Nina had a Smartphone. She would have called the house if she’d had car trouble. No doubt Nina had run into a girlfriend and was sitting in some coffee shop, complaining how awful it was to have her older sister underfoot.
“She’s picking up some medicine for your dad,” Stormy finally told the boy. “C’mon, I’ll fix you guys a sandwich and get you settled. You can watch television in the upstairs den for an hour before you do homework.”
“I want to help make candles,” Liane protested. Stormy eyed the small cauldrons of hot wax. “Not this time, sweetheart. We’re finished for today.”
Sandy looked up in surprise. “We are?”
Stormy urged the children into the house with instructions to go quietly to their rooms and change out of their school clothes.
“Can we eat candy out of our Easter baskets?” Davie asked.
“Ten jellybeans each, but not until after your sandwich.”
“How many is ten?” Tommy said worriedly.
“Liane will count them for you. Now, scat. On tiptoe.”