My Sister's Voice by Mary Carter Read Free Book Online

perfectly clear? Didn’t she drop enough hints, enough digs for him to get the picture? Didn’t she always point out couples they knew who were either miserably married or getting a divorce? Didn’t she place bets on how long celebrity marriages would last? Didn’t she draw little skulls and crossbones over the engagement section of the Sunday Times ? If nothing else, dressing up as the Bride of Frankenstein last Halloween and telling Alan it was the only time he’d ever see her in a wedding dress should have been a clue.
    That’s why his neck had been red. She didn’t need this right now, she couldn’t handle this right now. She grabbed her pumps and threw them in a backpack along with her little black dress. She didn’t care anymore if it got wrinkled. Maybe if she showed up looking like the Bride of Frankenstein, he wouldn’t propose.
    She turned off her thoughts, moving about the house on autopilot. She would figure it out later. She still needed to get to the art studio and whip up a painting for Alan, one that now said I-love-you-but-let’s-not-ruin-a-good-thing-by-getting-married. Then bookstore, cat fight, dinner. She looked at her watch. It was too late. She had to get to Benjamin Books now. Then she would go to the studio. She could text Alan and push dinner back to nine. Or ten.
    Lacey tucked her hair into one of Alan’s ProBuild baseball caps and concealed her blue eyes behind mountainous sunglasses. Given that it was way too hot to hide anything else, she threw on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and her flip-flops. Rookie’s little paws were sensitive to the hot summer sidewalks, so Lacey nestled him in the crook of her right arm. As she neared the bookstore, she wondered if bringing him had been a huge mistake. This Monica was also pretending to have a puggle, so instead of fading into the background, she would notice Lacey right away. Maybe that was the way to go. Maybe she shouldn’t have disguised herself at all. Should she hurry back to the jeep and change into her little black dress? After all, she had already received the shock of a lifetime; why shouldn’t Ms. Monica? Lacey realized the flutter in the pit of her stomach wasn’t just fear, it was excitement. She was actually looking forward to shocking this woman.
    She stopped at the entrance of the bookstore to take a deep breath and look at the poster. She managed only one out of the two. The poster was gone. The windows were wiped clean, there were no prints, no dust outlines of the poster, no vestiges of Scotch tape. Lacey looked at her watch. It was 5:50. Lacey wanted to stake out the perfect seat. Not too close, not too far. Who had stolen the poster of her stolen face?
    She hurried into the bookstore and made a beeline for the table laden with Sharpie markers and the copies of The Architect of Your Soul propped up like the frame of a house—
    Gone, gone, gone. Table gone. Sharpies gone. Folding metal chairs set up facing the table, gone. Books gone. Somebody was playing a trick on her.
    Alan. The proposal. Oh my God, she was such a dimwit! The Architect of Your Soul. Snookie instead of Rookie. Access to her picture and Photoshop. Oh, he got her good! He was going to propose, here, tonight. A twin. She had actually started to believe she had a twin. She took her BlackBerry out and texted Alan.
    You got me! Ha-ha. Where are you? She wandered the bookstore as she waited for his reply. Was he hiding in Science Fiction? Horror? With the way she felt about marriage, he should be. She hoped the store didn’t throw away the poster or the fake book. She wanted to keep copies. That didn’t mean she was going to say yes. But she had to give him credit for originality. She always figured Alan would be more traditional. Candles, champagne, on his knees.
    What???? Where are you?
    Science Fiction. Where r u?
    Lacey. This is Alan. What is going on?
    I’m sorry. I’m early. Surprise is ruined. Come out.
    What???????????
    This was a little much. He