Between Sisters - Kristin Hannah [3]
As if reading Beowulf would improve Claire's life.
For years, Claire had longed to be friends as well as sisters, but Meghann didn't want that, and Meghann always got her way. They were what Meghann wanted them to be: polite strangers who shared a blood type and an ugly childhood.
Claire reached down for the Weed Eater. As she slogged across the spongy ground, she noticed a dozen things that needed to be done before opening day. Roses that needed to be trimmed, moss that needed to be scraped off the roofs, mildew that needed to be bleached off the porch railings. And there was the mowing. A long, wet winter had turned into a surprisingly bright spring, and the grass had grown as tall as Claire's knees. She made a mental note to ask George, their handyman, to scrub out the canoes and kayaks this afternoon.
She tossed the Weed Eater in the back of the pickup. It hit with a clanging thunk that rattled the rusted bed.
“Hey, sweetie. You goin' to town?”
She turned and saw her father standing on the porch of the registration building. He wore a ratty pair of overalls, stained brown down the bib from some long-forgotten oil change, and a flannel shirt.
He pulled a red bandanna out of his hip pocket and wiped his brow as he walked toward her. “I'm fixing that freezer, by the way. Don't you go pricing new ones.”
There wasn't an appliance made that he couldn't repair, but Claire was going to check out prices, just the same. “You need anything from town?”
“Smitty has a part for me. Could you pick it up?”
“You bet. And have George start on the canoes when he gets here, okay?”
“I'll put it on the list.”
“And have Rita bleach the bathroom ceiling in cabin six. It got mildewy this winter.” She closed the pickup's bed.
“You here for dinner?”
“Not tonight. Ali has a Tee Ball game at Riverfront Park, remember? Five o'clock.”
“Oh, yeah. I'll be there.”
Claire nodded, knowing that he would. He hadn't missed a single event in his granddaughter's life. “Bye, Dad.”
She wrenched the truck's door handle and yanked hard. The door screeched open. She grabbed the black steering wheel and climbed up into the seat.
Dad thumped the truck's door. “Drive safely. Watch the turn at milepost seven.”
She smiled. He'd been giving her that exact bit of advice for almost two decades. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too. Now, go get my granddaughter. If you hurry, we'll have time to watch SpongeBob SquarePants before the game.”
CHAPTER
TWO
THE WEST SIDE OF THE OFFICE BUILDING FACED PUGET Sound. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows framed the beautiful blue-washed view. In the distance lay the forested mound of Bainbridge Island. At night, a few lights could be seen amid all that black-and-green darkness; in the daylight, though, the island looked uninhabited. Only the white ferry, chugging into its dock every hour, indicated that people lived there.
Meghann sat alone at a long, kidney-shaped conference table. The glossy cherry and ebony wood surface bespoke elegance and money. Perhaps money most of all. A table like this had to be custom-made and individually designed; it was true of the suede chairs, too. When a person sat down at this table and looked at that view, the point was clear: Whoever owned this office was damn successful.
It was true. Meghann had achieved every goal she'd set for herself. When she'd started college as a scared, lonely teenager she'd dared to dream of a better life. Now, she had it. Her practice was among the most successful and most respected in the city. She owned an expensive