Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) (10 page)

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Authors: Melissa Foster

Tags: #fiction, #romance, #love story, #hot, #contemporary romance, #steamy romance, #family relationshiops

BOOK: Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1)
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Blake started the car and drove toward
Sally’s house as Rusty continued to stare out the window. They
drove in silence.

Blake parked in front of the house and
scribbled down his phone number. “Here. If you’re ever in any
trouble.” He shrugged. He didn’t want to force himself on Rusty,
but he wanted Rusty to know he was there for him. He handed it
over.

Rusty held steadfast to the door handle, but
he didn’t move toward getting out of the car. He held the paper in
his fist. “He’s not who you thought he was, you know.” He climbed
out of the car and slammed the door.

Goddamnit. Who the hell does that kid
think he is?
Blake knew he had to talk to Sally, but he was in
no mood for this shit tonight. And talking to Sally would just make
him think about the shit Rusty had said about Dave. He checked his
phone. No returned call from Danica. Weren’t therapists, like
doctors, supposed to be on call or something? The night just kept
getting better and better.

Chapter
Thirteen

By Sunday morning Danica had two new clients
and a great idea of where to take Michelle. She threw on her jeans
and a white, V-neck, cashmere sweater she’d had for years. She
laced up her white Converse sneakers, which she’d purchased ages
ago with Kaylie but had never worn. She eyed her Nine West pumps.
It was a step, trying to define a line between work and her social
life, even if a small one. She’d never wear sneakers to work. She
wrapped a royal-blue scarf around her neck and grabbed her father’s
old army jacket, which she loved. On her way out the front door,
she glanced in the mirror. She turned, inspecting herself from head
to toe. She touched her hair, then her hips.
Not half bad
.
There was something to be said about dressing young. For once her
hair looked like it belonged on the person wearing it. Danica
wondered why she didn’t dress like that more often. A simple scarf
and tossing away the pea coat for her father’s jacket gave her a
whole different outlook, and she felt it all the way down to her
toes as she walked to the car with a new bounce in her step.

Michelle met her in her grandmother’s foyer,
wearing all black, straight down to the black Converse. Inside,
Danica felt like a kid. She wanted to jump up and hug Michelle,
squealing,
Look, I’ve got on Converse too!
Instead, she
said, “Ready to go?”

Michelle surveyed Danica’s outfit and smiled,
then nodded.

“I’ll bring her back by three, Nola,” Danica
said.

Michelle’s grandmother took Danica’s hand.
“Bless you, Danica. You are a gift to her right now.”

“Thank you. She’s as much a gift to me.”

Michelle rolled her eyes and walked out the
door.

Danica drove to the Village, someplace she
rarely went, although when she’d first moved back to Allure after
college, she’d been sure she would spend a lot of time there. She’d
imagined romantic strolls and dinners looking out at the mountains.
But after she’d moved, real life had taken over, and those
fantasies were just hopes that she would not let herself entertain,
and she had quickly tucked them away. Until now.

She parked on the street in front of Steam, a
little café with a line out the door. All of the Village streets
were paved with bricks. Brick and stone town houses served as
storefronts and restaurants. Ornate, iron fences and black, iron
poles hosting old-fashioned lanterns lined the narrow streets.
Danica sat in the driver’s seat and remembered how she’d fallen in
love with the Village. The Village had been Kaylie’s hangout when
they were growing up. Danica had hung out at the library. It wasn’t
until she had graduated from college and moved back home that she’d
ventured to the Village again and become infatuated with its unique
beauty.

“Are we getting out?” Michelle asked.

Danica grabbed her purse and opened the door.
“We sure are.”

They walked up the sidewalk.

“I’ve been here once,” Michelle said.

“Really? Was it long ago?”

“Yeah. With my mom, when I was just a kid.
Five, maybe? I don’t remember exactly when, but I remember the
bricks and the lights at night.”

“It sounds like a good memory.”
Don’t
sound like a therapist
. “I mean, the lights must have been
lovely.”

“Mm-hmm. I think we sat over there.” She
pointed to a courtyard. “There were fireworks, but I don’t think it
was the Fourth of July.”

“They do fireworks here the second and last
Friday of each month during the summers. I don’t know if they did
it back then, but maybe it was the same thing.”

“Maybe.”

They strolled past a tobacco shop, a candy
shop, and another coffee shop.

“There it is.” Danica pointed to a door with
a decorative, wooden sign hanging above that read, “Jewels of the
Past.” Danica had heard about the shop and sought it out for just
this reason.

“What is it?”

“Vintage stuff.” The cool air and her
youthful clothing invigorated Danica. She grabbed Michelle’s hand
and pulled her up three brick steps and into the store. Incense
filled the air. Wind chimes and festive decorations hung from the
ceiling. Shelves lined the walls, filled with vintage clothing,
books, and knickknacks. A bejeweled woman came out from behind the
cash register. Bracelets gleamed halfway up her forearm.

“How are you ladies today? Welcome to a
little piece of heaven.” Her deep, brown eyes danced with a spark
of energy. Her hair was cut above her shoulders, and like Danica’s,
was a mass of dark, natural curls gone haywire.

Danica was reeled in by her warm, wide smile.
“I love your shop!” Danica exclaimed. From the eclectic feel to the
earthy aroma, the shop reminded Danica of her college dorm. In
college, her room had been filled with posters and knickknacks.
She’d had interesting, mismatched furniture and even a little tree
branch that she’d used to hang her necklaces on. She wondered what
her condo smelled like to strangers. She’d have to pay more
attention to that. She thought of her perfectly organized house,
with the banana holder, place mats, and matching furniture right
down to the bathroom trash can. She had the odd feeling that she’d
become stodgy and she’d let her condo become stodgy, too. Boy, had
she changed.

Michelle touched each box in a set of what
looked like three shiny, smooth logs with intricate lines and
hidden tops. She picked one up and flipped it open, then gasped.
“Danica, you
have
to see this.”

Was that excitement in her voice?

“My son makes those,” the woman said proudly.
“He lives in Canada on a small communal farm with my two
grandbabies.” She put a hand on Michelle’s shoulder and watched her
run her delicate finger along the edge of the smooth bark.

“Those are lovely.” Danica looked inside.
Atop a red velvet interior was a miniscule sculpture of a tree;
tiny jewels hung from slivers of limbs made from copper wire.

“I can’t believe your son makes these.”
Michelle set the smallest box down and picked up the next one in
line. “They’re so cool.”

“He’s pretty talented. But, then again, I am
his mother.” The woman leaned against a cabinet. Her plump behind
stretched her blue, cotton pants. “You have the most beautiful
eyes. How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

“Almost fifteen.” Michelle shook her head,
skillfully maneuvering her bangs into her eyes.

“I love your style, too. Have you ever
thought about adding a splash of something to your dark aura?”

Aura?

The woman snagged a multicolored scarf from
the branch of a display tree and placed it gently around Michelle’s
shoulders, carefully lifting her hair and draping the scarf down
her chest. “You are gorgeous!”

Danica’s jaw dropped open. Was it that easy?
She could have just reached out and done what a mother might have?
Or a cool aunt? Envy squeezed its fingers around her heart as she
watched the woman chat easily with Michelle. Danica worried about
every word that left her lips. Was it the right one? Did she sound
too much like a therapist? Would she tip off a bad memory?

The woman was a blur of activity, moving from
the scarf to the counter, where she chose a long necklace that had
a flattened piece of tin on the end imprinted with overlapping
moons, stars, and flowers around the edges, creating a frame around
the word “imperfect.” There was a fingernail-sized green charm that
hung over the top. Danica held her breath, worried that Michelle
would take offense to the statement.

Michelle lifted her finger and touched the
necklace. She glanced at Danica from under her bangs.

Danica sighed and refrained from telling
Michelle how the green in the scarf made her eyes pop, or how the
addition of the simple necklace made her ninja outfit suddenly
appear feminine and unique. She knew Michelle wanted her reaction,
but she was afraid to say too much and scare her off. Instead
Danica crossed her arms, her right hand drifting over her heart.
Michelle looked like someone every teen girl would be envious
of—tough and soft in the same breath. “It’s just beautiful,” she
said.

The woman took Michelle’s hand and guided her
to a mirror; then she pulled Michelle’s hair from around her face
and set the thick of it down behind her shoulders.

Michelle stepped closer to the mirror,
stroking the scarf, touching the necklace. Then she leaned in even
closer, inches from the mirror, as if she didn’t recognize her own
face. She lifted her eyes and caught Danica’s attention. She bit
her lower lip and wrinkled her brow.

“Oh, Michelle. Look at you.” Danica stood
behind her, watching Michelle in the mirror. She was delighted with
Michelle’s new look, but she knew better than to fawn over
her—anything she said might cause Michelle to say,
Whatever
,
roll her eyes, and walk away.

Michelle turned to the woman and hugged her.
Hugged her!

The woman laughed. “Oh, sweetie, you’re
welcome.”

“Do you like it?” Michelle asked Danica.

“Do I? Michelle, you look like a million
bucks. Cool and confident, but not like those snotty girls who
spend hours getting ready.”
Good, that was good, right?

Michelle’s lips spread into a smile, then
faded. She unwrapped the scarf and handed it back to the woman.
“Thank you. That’s really pretty, but I don’t have enough money to
buy it.”

“Well, that’s okay, hon. You know it’s here.”
The woman glanced at Danica as Michelle turned her back.

Danica nodded, indicating that she’d buy
them.

The woman smiled.

Michelle removed the necklace and held it in
her palm. “This is so…me.”

The woman placed her hand beneath Michelle’s
and wrapped her fingers around the necklace. “It’s yours.”

Michelle’s eyes grew wide. “What? No. I can’t
take this. Thank you, but...” She shot a look at Danica.

Danica was so happy for Michelle that a lump
formed in her throat.

“Listen to me. It’s rare that someone like
you comes in. I mean, lots of high schoolers come in, filled with
piss and vinegar,” the woman waved her hands around, “talking too
loud and not taking the time to really see what they’re looking at.
Something tells me that you see the beauty in owning what makes us
each special.”

Danica took out her wallet and paid for the
scarf.

“Danica, no. I can’t let you do that,”
Michelle pleaded.

 Danica put her arm around Michelle and
pulled her into her side. “I’m your Big Sister, right? I want to do
this.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes shining
with delight.

“One hundred percent.”

 

Throughout lunch, Michelle touched the scarf
and ran the necklace through her fingers, almost as if she were
afraid they might disappear. Danica noticed Michelle sitting up
straighter, walking taller, and the smile that had been so rare
last week had remained consistent all afternoon as they meandered
through more of the shops.

In the car on the way back to her
grandmother’s house, Michelle clenched the ends of the scarf.

“Do you think I look stupid?” Michelle
asked.

“Stupid? No, just the opposite.” Danica shot
her a smile.

“I felt great when we were in the Village,
but now I’m worried everyone at school will, I don’t know... think
I look stupid, like I’m trying to be something I’m not.” Michelle
looked down at her lap.

Danica pulled up in front of Nola’s house and
turned in her seat to face Michelle. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?” Michelle’s eyes pleaded for
understanding.

“Yeah. When I got dressed this morning, I
felt young, maybe even a little bit cool. But now, as we head back
toward town, I feel a little…I don’t know...wrong, maybe? I’m so
used to dressing more professionally that it feels funny to be so
comfortable.”

“I do love your sneakers and jacket,”
Michelle admitted.

Yes!
“Really?”

“Uh-huh. You look great, not so…stuffy.”

They both laughed.

“Yeah, not so stuffy. That’s exactly how I
feel. In fact, I like it so much that I’m going to try to dress a
little more like this every day. I like how I feel when I wear
this. My whole outlook is different.”

“You totally should.”

“Michelle.” Danica reached for her hand, then
thought better of it and pulled back. “My sister said something to
me that really rang true, and I think it will for you, too. We
don’t have to be who our parents or people around us expect us to
be.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah.” Danica smiled, thinking how odd it
was for someone not to know Kaylie. “A beautiful, fun, outgoing,
treacherously risky, younger sister.”

Michelle laughed.

 “Anyway, what my sister meant was that
we don’t have to live up to the expectations of others.”

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