The Hurricane Sisters by Dorothea Benton Frank Read Free Book Online Page A

I think she was a little looped. It doesn’t matter really because neither of us tried to stop the other and now it’s been going on for four months.
    I needed to remind myself to tell her that Ivy and James had the keys, which by the way puts a cramp in my style. What should I have done? Tell them no, they couldn’t use the apartment? Well, I didn’t and it didn’t work out so well.
    I went back to New York a few days later, following James and Ivy’s departure for San Francisco. At eight that night, Sophia knocked on my door.
    “Hey, gorgeous,” I said. “Come on in.”
    “You’re not going to like this,” she said, coming in, kissing my cheek, and dropping her keys on the hall table.
    “What are you saying? I love everything about you! Glass of wine?”
    “Bottle with a straw,” she said.
    “Oh dear God,” I said.
    From the look on her face, I knew something was deeply wrong. I pulled a ’96 Latour Beaucastle from the wine rack. Serious discussion called for a serious wine. The cork was a long one that required my two-step corkscrew and some effort but a minute into it, there was a happy pop as the cork was liberated from the bottle’s neck.
    “I missed you,” she said.
    “I missed you, too,” I said.
    I poured a good amount of the wine into two goblets through my diffuser and handed one to her.
    “Sometimes, even when I know you’re not here, I’ll just come down and ring your doorbell anyway.”
    “Really?” I thought, Wow, that’s pretty sweet.
    “Yeah. Really. Last week I heard music coming from your apartment so I thought you were here.”
    “No, that would’ve been my son and his, um, friend.”
    “I know.”
    She was leaning against the doorway. Her arms were crossed, and she had this sour expression, like she was pissed.
    “Oh, my God. What happened?”
    “Well, when the elevator door opened on your floor and I heard the music, I just assumed you were here.”
    “Well, sure. Who wouldn’t?”
    “Right. But I hurried upstairs to my place, ditched my clothes, slipped on a trench coat, and hurried back here. When they opened the door . . .”
    “Oh no.”
    “Yes, oh no. I think I flashed them by accident.”
    “Oh. Shit.”
    “The Asian guy was wearing Glass and I think he took a picture. Or a movie.”
    “Shit. Shit! ”
    “I’m sorry, Clay. I really am. But you know, it really wasn’t my fault.”
    “Liz is gonna kick my ass. What happened after that?”
    “I shrieked! Then I said, Sorry! Wrong apartment! ”
    “What did they say?”
    “Your son said, maybe . His friend said, maybe not .”
    “This is a big fat problem,” I said. “I should’ve told you they were here. This is all my fault.”
    “Sort of,” she mumbled.
    Great, I thought. This is just great. Time to start moving assets to the Cayman Islands. All hell is about to break loose. And I’m just telling you, I am in some seriously deep shit.

 
    CHAPTER 4
    Liz—My Side
    I’m really sorry about my behavior at my mother’s birthday dinner two weeks ago. I know I sounded like a total witch. Sometimes, I get so frustrated and then I say the dumbest thing in the world and it makes everyone uncomfortable. I apologize. Please. Stay with me because you don’t know enough about us yet to judge.
    Today, as I always do on Tuesdays because I’m the dutiful daughter, I’m taking my mother out to lunch at the Mustard Seed on James Island. I’ve always loved that restaurant, especially their pad thai. The portions are usually generous enough to feed a family of four. When Ashley and Ivy were children I’d take them to the Mustard Seed in Mount Pleasant and we’d have a feast. It was there they learned to eat enchiladas and mussels and all sorts of daring things. Oh, they were so precious when they were young. Then the little darlings slipped right through my fingers and grew up.
    Family, family. It’s so frightening and, yes, almost embarrassing to muse over what my idea of family was years ago when I