How will they see me, what will they think of me, these people who’ve always been more Jules and Bea’s than mine, if I’m not the wild-child sister who shows up once in a blue moon for a couple of fun days that are a blur of board games and beers and not enough time to be known beyond that?
“There you are!” Sula waves from behind the glass-topped checkout desk. The owner of the Edgy Envelope, the custom stationery and paper shop for which Bea both designs and works the sales desk, Sula was Jules’s friend first but clearly has become just as close with Bea, whom she squishes into a hard, affectionate hug.
I love hugs, the sensory joy of being wrapped tight and receiving pressure, but something about me must broadcast that I don’t, because I’ve observed how readily people hug my older sisters yet not me. Maybe it’s my height. Maybe it’s my resting bitch face. Maybe today it’s simply because I’m wearing the sling.
Sula turns my way, beaming like the sunrise outside, with her bright smile and burnt orange–dyed buzz cut. “Good to see you, Kate. I’m so glad you’re here!”
“They’re here!” Bea’s friend Toni calls, strolling in with a smile and wave for me and another hug for Bea. “Aaand the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” he says. With a flourish, Toni whips off a floral domed lid on the desk, revealing a glistening tower of glazed doughnuts that smell like autumn incarnate: tart apples and cinnamon, pumpkin and pungent nutmeg, warm vanilla and rich maple syrup.
I stare at the doughnuts, my mouth watering. “Wow.”
Bea smiles up at me. “A welcome home treat. I told him doughnuts and fall flavors were your favorite.”
“She did.” Toni smiles. “And I have to say, they were a nice break from the same three cookie recipes that keep this one smiling for the customers.”
Bea pokes his side. “I smile for the customers! On the rare occasion, I might come off as a little artistically aloof.”
Sula gives Toni a chiding look. “Bea does great with the customers.”
“Thank you!” Bea hmphs. “So there, Ton.”
“It was a joke!”
It’s bittersweet, watching them talk with so much familiarity and affectionate teasing. I’ve never been close to anyone like this.
Their teasing stops as Toni takes doughnut orders, setting them on delicate Edgy Envelope house-brand multicolored plates that are made of recycled material, according to their soy-ink-stamped label on the back.
“These are beautiful,” I murmur around a bite of cinnamon-spiced apple cider doughnut, lifting an unused plate to the light.
Bea watches me with a smile on her face. “You’ve got your photographer’s face on.”
“Hot damn.” Sula gasps, dropping her doughnut onto its plate.
“What?” Toni clutches her elbow. “Too sweet? Not fried long enough?”
“The doughnuts are perfect,” I tell him.
“Agreed,” Bea says, before licking maple glaze off her thumb. “What are you gasping about, Sula?”
“I,” she says proudly, “have a fabulous idea. Kate, you should work here! Take photos for the website. Work some front desk hours, too. Bea’s planning to reduce her hours so she can dedicate more time to her independent commissions, now that she’s back at painting, so you could take some of her hours. Heck, take all of them!”
Bea and I choke on our doughnuts.
“I still need some hours, Sula!” Bea says.
I whack a fist into my chest and use my default excuse for whenever I’m feeling cornered and caught off guard. “Not sure how much longer I’ll be here. Probably not a good idea.”
“What’s the rush?” Sula asks. “You’re not staying home through the holidays? They’re only a month away.”
Only a month. I haven’t lived at home for a month since before I left for college. I can’t deny the thought crossed my mind over the past five years when a homesick pang struck around the holidays and I was far from my family, but every time I considered acting on it, the fear that I’d come home hoping to feel less lonely, only to find myself lonelier than ever around the people I loved most, would stop me in my tracks.
“Um. Well. That’s really kind of you . . .” I blink at her like a deer in the headlights. “I’m just not sure what I’m . . . doing?”
I haven’t heard from the few photographers I still know in the city, and I haven’t let myself think about how many of my contacts didn’t get back to me when I was still in Scotland, trying to pick up leads for work once my shoulder was healed. Was it something I did? Sure, I was late to some shoots, I missed a few deadlines, but in general, I think I built a decent reputation among the people I worked with. Whether my recent professional dead ends are a coincidence or the universe is doing me dirty, I can’t deny my current desperation makes Sula’s offer enticing.