“Um . . . sure. Come in and warm up.” Ten seconds in her sister’s presence, and the hillbilly was back in her voice.
“Is Harminee here?” Kaitlyn asked once they were inside, looking around the place. “Whoo-whee! Sweet!”
“She’s at school,” Melissa said. “She’ll be home around three thirty. And she goes by Ophelia now.”
“About that,” Kaitlyn said. “I’m taking her back.”
Melissa froze. “What? No, you’re not.”
“I gotta pee. Where’s the bathroom?”
“Um . . . it’s down the hall on the left. Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Starving! Hey, little rat dog. You’re cute.”
Melissa opened the fridge and took out some cheese, grapes, the salami made with porcini mushrooms. Went into the butler’s pantry and took out some organic whole wheat crackers and laid them out on a wooden cutting board. Some olives （which were too salty for her） and gherkins. If she’d had more notice, she could’ve done a proper charcuterie board, but . . .
Her sister was here. Her sister. She remembered them sleeping in the same sweaty twin bed in the summer, back when Kaitlyn was scared of thunderstorms. Making popcorn after school. Walking to school together when Katie was little enough to hold her hand. After all these years, they were together again. Kaitlyn was here.
To take Ophelia back. Well, that wasn’t going to happen, and Melissa couldn’t suppress the thrill of seeing her sister again. It had been so long. There was so much to talk about.
“I poked around a little, Missy. Criminy, this place is amazing! You got another sugar daddy now?”
“I’m the sugar mommy, actually,” she said, smiling. She opened her arms. “Give me a hug, sissy.”
Katie grinned, and though her hair was dyed black with white streaks and she wore shredded jeans and a T-shirt that read “Not today, Jesus” with a picture of Satan underneath the words, and her arms were covered in tattoos, it sure felt good to hug someone Melissa had always loved.
Both of them had tears in their eyes when they broke apart.
“Come and sit,” Melissa said, glancing at the clock. They had hours before Ophelia would come home. “Tell me everything.”
“Long story short, I got released for good behavior, believe it or not.”
“And how was . . . jail?”
“Oh, it was great, Miss. I’m thinking of buying a timeshare so I can go visit my gals.”
“But you were okay?”
“More or less.” She offered her left arm for review. “See that scar? A fight in the bathroom. She got me pretty good. I had to have stitches and stayed in the regular hospital and everything. It was a pumper, all right. Blood everywhere, then a ride in the ambulance, handcuffed to a bed.”
“That sounds exciting.”
Katie laughed. “It was. Hey, thanks for filling up my credit at the commissary. I was the only one who always could afford lipstick and hot sauce.”
Melissa smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Katie ate a few crackers, sniffed the salami and took a bite. “Got any wine?” she asked. “Maybe a beer? I got outta jail, borrowed Angela’s car and headed straight here. I haven’t had a drink in five years.”
Melissa didn’t answer.
“It was heroin I was addicted to, Missy. Not wine.”
“Okay.” She heaved herself up and got a bottle of sauvignon blanc, opened it and poured her sister a glass.
“You gonna join me?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Oh. Is that how rich people do it? Mama used to brag about how she had an Old Milwaukee every night when she was pregnant. Didn’t hurt us none.” She flashed that mischievous grin, almost begging Melissa to correct her grammar.
“It’s really good to see you,” Melissa said. For the first time in . . . in years, in a decade, she felt something inside her relax a little. “How did you find me?”
“Oh, honey. You think your little sister ain’t as smart as you? Took me about five minutes on the Google. That oyster video helped a lot. Had to say, it sure made me laugh. So I got the name of the restaurant, googled ‘real estate transactions,’ and bing bang boom, here I am.”
“Good for you. I love your tattoos, by the way.” She didn’t, of course. They were so common. “So many of them.”
“Thanks. So, you feeling okay? Pregnancy-wise? When are you due? You’re big as a house.”