Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) (11 page)

“What do you mean? You always tell me to be
the best person I can be. So does Grandma.”

“Yes, you should be the best person you can
be. That’s not really what I was referring to. Let me give you an
example. All my life, I’ve been seen as the smart one, the
responsible sister. And everyone saw my sister as the creative one,
like that’s all they expected of her. She was allowed to be less…I
don’t know. Academic, I guess. But with me, they expected the
bookworm, the college graduate.” Danica thought of her inability to
separate who she was at work from who she was at home. “The
conformist. So, that’s who I am, and I’m trying to figure out if
that’s who I am because of what was expected, or if it’s what I
really wanted.”

“And?”

Danica sighed. “I don’t know. I just realized
this recently, and I’m only in the thinking stage. But don’t you
see? This relates to you, too.”

“Yeah, I’m totally not the bookworm, so I
don’t think so,” Michelle joked.

“That’s not what I mean. With you, everyone
expects you to be the—for lack of a better word—the damaged girl,
and I don’t mean that you are damaged. What I mean is—”

“I know just what you mean.” Michelle turned
her body to face Danica. “I’m that girl! I live it. Everyone looks
at me like there’s something pitiful about me because of my mom or
because I live with my grandma. It’s like, my normal is their pity.
Is that what you mean?”

Danica could not believe she was having this
discussion in such a calm, meaningful fashion. She expected a
snippy retort, a teenage rolling of the eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly
what I mean. And you don’t have to be that person if you don’t want
to.”

Michelle looked down, fingering the fringe on
the scarf. “I kinda do. I mean, I am damaged.”

Danica touched Michelle’s hand. “No, you’re
not. Your mother is damaged, not you. Your grandmother is a sweet
woman doing the best she can to raise a teenager. It’s not you who
is damaged, Michelle. It’s what you were born into. I won’t say
you’re perfect, because that would be a lie.”

“You hate lies.”

“Yup.” Danica smiled, pleased that Michelle
understood this about her. She’d been lied to only once by
Michelle. When they first began the Big Sister program, Michelle
hadn’t called Danica to cancel an outing, and when Danica had shown
up to pick her up, Michelle had lied and said she’d left a message.
Danica had made no bones about her requirement of honesty, and
Michelle had never lied to her again. “I do hate lies. The truth
is, we’re all imperfect. Those girls in your class who think you
are a pariah are just scared. What if their moms had trouble? What
would they do? How would they cope? See, you scare them because
your situation makes them think.”

Michelle squinted, nodded. “I guess I can see
that.”

“I don’t want to lecture you. Just know that
you aren’t damaged. You don’t have to fit into that square that
everyone wants to put you in. You can wear your colors proudly,
wear your necklace, and own your imperfections. Because, Michelle,
that is more attractive than the fear those other kids are
wearing.”
Now, if only I could take my own advice
.

Monday morning rolled in with a flurry of
snow and blustery wind. Blake rolled out of bed and walked groggily
to the bathroom. He leaned over the sink wearing nothing but a pair
of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. His lean, muscular body moved
stiffly. He stretched his arms above his head, gearing himself up
for returning to AcroSki; Dave’s absence had settled into his bones
and muscles like a dull ache.

He splashed cold water on his face, then
patted it dry with a towel, mentally ticking off his agenda for the
day: Coffee and egg whites, open the store, more coffee. He
wondered if he’d see Danica at the coffee shop. A hint of a thrill
ran though his chest. He lifted his lips into a smile. He’d made it
through the night without the company of a woman and without
falling apart. That had to be a good sign. He’d take things day by
day. He wondered if, while he was working out of his womanizing
ways, he’d be like a heroin addict, begging to get laid.

He had an appointment with Danica later that
morning.
Dr. Snow
,
off limits,
he reminded himself.
After seeing her, he would call Sally and talk about Rusty. He felt
guilty for not telling her about his ditching sooner, but every
time he picked up the phone, he remembered Dave’s recollection of
the basketball practices. Something wasn’t right, and he didn’t
want to open a can of worms he couldn’t handle. He hoped Danica
would have solid advice on how to handle that situation.

He turned on the shower and pulled off his
boxers, flexing his thighs reflexively. Feeling the tension build,
then release. He repeated it again, enjoying the rush of adrenaline
as his muscles came to life.

He continued his daily to-do list: Hire
someone to do some of the work that Dave handled, and think about
finding a hobby.
A hobby
.
What was there besides women
and skiing?
He’d wondered, right after the accident, if he’d
ever ski again; then he’d quickly realized that skiing was not
something he’d ever want to give up, and he was sure Dave wouldn’t
have wanted him to, either. He’d certainly take more care and fewer
risks. He couldn’t ski every day. He had quickly adapted to that
change in lifestyle when he’d gone from being a ski instructor to
owning a ski shop. He’d given up a lot of freedom, but it had been
the right thing to do. Financial freedom was
not
overrated.

He stepped into the shower and stood beneath
the flow of water, letting it roll down his face and back. He
closed his eyes, feeling the strain in his muscles ease. Blake
turned around and set his palms on the ceramic shower wall. The
water beat the tension from between his shoulder blades.

One day at a time. He could do this.

AcroSki came to life at ten o’clock. After
Alyssa, the part-time employee, showed up, Blake set a sign on the
counter in the hopes of avoiding multiple inquiries about Dave. It
read:
Dave Tuft, co-owner of AcroSki, passed away this past
weekend. He will be deeply missed. Please send condolences to…
”
followed by the address of the church Sally attended. Blake longed
to hear Dave’s taunts and stories about his family-filled weekend,
although now Blake wondered how much of them were true.

Blake had looked over the files on Dave’s
desk and realized just how much Dave had taken care of. They’d been
so in sync with each other that dividing and conquering had become
natural. Now he’d have to sort out the dealings of the inventory,
accounting, and staff schedules. Anxiety prickled his spine. He
needed a few minutes to regroup before he dove into Dave’s
desk.

“I’m gonna grab a coffee. Would you like
one?” he asked Alyssa.

Tall and lean, with a skier’s muscular build,
Alyssa turned her ponytailed head in his direction. “Nah, I’m cool.
Go ahead. I’ve got this.”

Blake headed out the door. He’d been
disappointed when he didn’t see Danica at the coffee shop before
work. He braced himself against the cold and headed there
again.

The aroma of coffee reminded him of the
morning he'd accidentally struck Danica. He laughed to himself.
It is a small world
. Three women looked up from their table,
their eyes devouring him like he was a giant chocolate bar. He took
his place in the back of the line.

The line moved quickly, and when it was his
turn, the familiar barista said, “Hiya, Blake. The usual?”

“Yeah, sure.” He thought about it, then said,
“No, wait. How about a vanilla latte instead, and a bagel with
cream cheese.”

“Wow, bring it on,” she joked.

Change is good
. Blake hadn’t eaten a
bagel in what felt like years. He stuck to a strict diet of coffee,
protein, veggies, alcohol, and—of course—women. He took the bag and
cup from the barista, paid, and headed back out into the snow. He
walked with his head down, shoulders hunched against the wind,
rethinking the bagel.

The door to AcroSki pulled from his hands
with the weight of the wind. He tugged it shut behind him and wiped
the snow from his shoulders.

“It’s a cold one, huh?” Alyssa said.

“I brought you something.” He took off his
parka and made his way to the office. He set the coffee down and
handed Alyssa the bagel. He was already tackling changing his
personal habits; changing his eating habits would have to wait.

“I don’t need this,” she said, then patted
her stomach.

“Please.” He laughed. “Carb load. You’ll need
it today, to pick up the pieces of Dave’s—of the work we need to
get done.” His heart ached as the spark in Alyssa’s eyes
dimmed.

“Right,” she said, and walked away, bagel in
hand. The door closed behind her, leaving Blake alone in the office
he and Dave had shared, alone with his thoughts, memories, and
fears. He sat in the chair and stared at the desk. There were signs
of Dave everywhere, from the picture of his family to the
scribblings on the calendar and the sticky notes placed haphazardly
on the wall.

Blake leaned forward and put his forehead to
his hands. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Focus.
What would Dave do?
That was the problem. He’d known Dave
for years, and yet he had no idea what he might do in this
situation. Rusty’s voice picked at his mind.
“My dad didn’t give
a fuck about me or anyone else besides himself.”

“Dave, what the hell was going on?” he said
to the empty room.

There was a feeling of submissiveness that
went along with seeing a female therapist, and being submissive was
not something Blake was comfortable with. He sat across from
Danica, reminding himself that it was his choice to be there. It
didn’t help. He still felt like a high school kid in the
principal’s office. A beautiful principal’s office.

“What would you like to talk about today,
Blake? Do you feel ready to talk about Dave?”

Blake ran his eyes over Danica’s crazy hair,
down her shirt and slacks, trying to figure out what looked
different.

“Are you done?” she asked, glaring at him,
her eyebrows lifted.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking at you like
that
.” Blake wiped his face with his hand, wondering if he
was
looking at her like that.

“Like what?” she asked.

“You know, like guys look at women. You look
different today, and I was trying to figure out what it was.”

Danica smiled. “Okay, thanks for
noticing.”

“Ha!” he said loudly. “I knew something was
different. But, honestly, I have no clue what it is.”

Danica shook her head. “That’s okay. We’re
not here to talk about my clothing. Dave, remember?”

Blake took a deep breath and crossed his
arms. “Dave. Right.”
Where do I begin?
“I took Dave’s son,
Rusty—he’s fifteen—to his basketball practice the other day. Well,
I thought I was taking him to basketball practice, but he snuck out
with his friends and I caught him.”

“That’s not so strange for a teenager.”
Danica wrote something on her notepad.

“No, but…where do I start?”
Just tell her.
Lay it all out on the line
. “Okay, here’s the thing. Dave used
to talk about going to his basketball practices each week and about
how great their family life was, but according to Rusty, Dave never
went to his practices.”

“Ah, I see. Dave lied to you. How does that
make you feel?” Danica sat back and watched Blake, her gaze never
wavering from his eyes.

Blake’s nerves tightened in his chest.
“That’s not really what’s bothering me. Most people pretend to have
much better lives than they really have, I think. Everyone
embellishes something.” Blake fidgeted with his hands, then leaned
forward, unnerved by Danica’s silence. He looked up at her again
and realized that it was her jacket that was different. The last
time he’d seen her she was perfectly tailored, head to toe. Today
she wore a flowing, cotton batik jacket with what looked like a
cotton camisole underneath. On someone else it might make them look
frumpy. Danica looked anything but frumpy.

Blake sat up and said, “I think what’s
bothering me is that this guy was my best friend, but I really
didn’t know him. I mean, we had the business together—he did his
thing and I did mine, and we skied together. But when it came to
knowing what he’d do in certain situations, or what he had going on
in his life on any deeper level, I have no clue. I mean, Rusty said
his dad didn’t give a fu—” Blake caught the word before he
finished. “Sorry. He said Dave didn’t give a damn about him or
anyone else, and that’s not at all the guy I knew. The Dave I knew
adored his family.”

“Sometimes a teenager’s perception is skewed
by something they’re experiencing in their lives. He may have seen
his father’s attention as prying, a pain in the rear.”

Blake thought about that. “Yeah, I guess so,
but he said Dave didn’t go to the practices, either.”

“Well, teenagers are all about the here and
now, so maybe Dave had missed the last few practices, or maybe he
never went at all. Would that have changed things between you and
Dave?”

“No, not between us, but it means he might
have lied to me.”

“And how does that make you feel? How do you
think you could have changed that? Could you have done anything so
he wouldn’t have lied to you?”

“I don’t know. I could have asked him
questions, talked to him more.”

“Probably, but was that who you were in the
relationship? You see, Blake, I think we all serve a role in every
relationship. Sometimes we’re the aggressor, sometimes the center
of attention; sometimes we’re there for show, like a trophy wife,
if you will. Other times, though, we might be the person who builds
others up, or the one who needs building up. We can’t be everything
in every relationship.” Danica set her notepad down on the desk.
“You know, sometimes friendships are not the kind to share the more
difficult aspects of our lives; but that more superficial
friendship—or, just sharing the happier moments—doesn’t mean it was
any less valuable. I think sometimes it makes them more valuable.
Maybe that’s the type of friendship the two of you shared. Maybe he
felt like he could be this other person with you, the one with no
trouble brewing.”