Her Reason To Stay. Anna Adams

picked up one of the heavy forks. “There’s an A on the handle.”

      “For Abernathy.” Raina reached for the newspaper, scanning the three positions Daphne had circled. “What about the job?”

      “I’m not going to work for Patrick. This really is the family silver?”

      “We eat with it if that’s what you mean.” Raina ran her French-manicured index finger around the first ad. “Child minder?” She tapped her cheek. “That’s a fancy name for a nanny, you know. For Elena Hennigan and her husband. They want a live-in caregiver for their boys, but they don’t say so here because who wants to stay in someone else’s home these days? Do you want to live in and take care of toddler boys, aged four and two?”

      “I want a job, but little kids make me nervous.” What if she only knew how to be the kind of child minder who’d made her younger years a living hell?

      “Florist’s delivery?” Raina read the next circled item. “You’d find that fun?”

      “Fun?” Daphne shook her head. “I need a job. Fun isn’t part of the equation.”

      “But you’d like to enjoy what you do, wouldn’t you?” Raina studied her sister. “Do you ever wonder if you might be prejudiced against wealthy, spoiled women?”

      Again Daphne admired Raina’s ability to laugh at herself. Another surge of affection warmed her.

      “I thought of one other thing last night,” Raina continued. “I had one paying job.” Suddenly fascinated with the blue lid from the silverware box, Raina twirled it with her index finger and thumb. “I wrote papers for other students one term in college. If anyone had ever found out…”

      Daphne formed the word What? with her lips, but couldn’t produce sound. Already, she’d built an image of her sister. Listening while Raina blew it up was like hearing a nuclear explosion. “You—?”

      “My father was angry because my grades weren’t—” she lifted her head and shook it “—what he expected from an Abernathy. He threatened to cut off my tuition. I had to make money.”

      “You cheated?” Daphne covered her mouth, but too late as the guy from the counter leaned in for a closer look.

      Raina followed Daphne’s eyes. By the time she turned back, her skin was burnished pink. “You never did anything wrong?”

      Daphne stared at the breakfast Raina had brought. “Plenty of bad stuff. Probably worse than you can imagine. But I never—”

      “Well, now you know I’m not perfect.” Raina pushed her chair back. She waved at the plastic on the table. “Just throw that stuff away when you finish.”

      “I’m not going to throw away your silverware. Raina, wait. Talk to me. I was surprised. I never meant…”

      “You didn’t like what I said.”

      She disappeared in a whirl of pink tweed before Daphne could gather up the silverware and damask and plastic and her own bag. Finally, with everything in her arms, she ran to the door.

      As it closed in her face, she hit the glass, elbows first. Her right funny bone sang a teeth-clenching song.

      “Hey,” said the kid behind the counter.

      Daphne looked at him as she fumbled with the metal handle.

      He nodded toward the square outside. “She’s mean.”

      “She isn’t.” Already, she was protective of Raina, who’d dared to confess one sin. “Leave her alone.”

      She finally got the door open and peered both ways on the sidewalk. A woman in red was pushing a stroller, and Daphne hopped back to give her room. A guy in a suit that had never touched a rack looked her up and down so deliberately she could almost see herself burying her fist in his stomach. Maybe she had something against rich, spoiled men, too. A little boy sailed his big, green plastic airplane just beneath her chin, roaring an engine noise.

      She couldn’t see Raina.

      “What’d you say to her?”

      The kid from the counter had followed. Not much else to do.

      She shrugged. “That I was disappointed in her.”

      “I hate when my dad says that.”

      She glanced at him. He nodded, wise despite his youth and coffee-stained Cosmic Grounds T-shirt.

      “I was the mean one,” she told the kid.

      She pulled out her phone and dialed Raina’s cell number. It rang and rang until voice mail took over. “Raina? I’m sorry. The things I did as a teen you wouldn’t believe.” Wrong tack. The truth was, she’d been shocked, a little dismayed that Raina’s halo had slipped.

      Which was ridiculous. Raina would have good reason to board her windows and lock the doors when she finally heard the whole truth about her sister.

      “Please, just call me. Trying again might be our best thing. I wouldn’t have the courage to ask you if you hadn’t come to me in the coffee shop yesterday.” She could hardly say her mistake might be a good thing, even though it made her see how much Raina already meant to her. “I think we’re starting to be sisters because I seriously need to explain.”