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there…”
    “He’s taking care of the baby, he won’t hear a thing. Spill it.” Her tone is more demanding. “You have five minutes before everyone gets here, and I want to know what’s going on before you meet my brother.”

Chapter Five

    I’M FEELING PRESSURED, BUT THE temptation to come clean is too much to resist. Besides, I know my friend; she might be this person living in Trump Towers now, but that hasn’t changed the fact that she’s a pit bull. Once she gets her teeth clamped onto something, there’s nothing that will shake her loose until she gets what she wants. And right now, she wants an explanation for my presence. I guess I owe her that much.
    “I just … I’m at loose ends.” I shrug, hoping that’ll be enough. I should have known better, though.
    She nods, her expression intense. “Go on.”
    “You know I’ve been teaching art at the high school for years.”
    “Yes, and I know you used to love it.”
    “Maybe in the beginning, but not so much for the past several years.”
    She frowns. “That’s too bad. You’re so talented, though.” She looks over her shoulder. “I was kind of hoping you’d paint me something for me to put over the couch.”
    “I’d be happy to!” The idea that I could pay her back for her kindness is a huge relief. “It’s not that I don’t want to paint anymore, it’s that I’m tired of teaching painting. I just want to …” I look down at my glass. What I want isn’t possible. “I don’t know.”
    “Yes, you do. Tell me.” She leans down to catch my eye. “Come on, what will it hurt to tell someone?”
    I shrug, fighting tears. “I don’t know. Maybe if I don’t say it out loud I won’t have to deal with it?”
    “Ha, that’s funny. Like that ever worked in the history of the human race.”
    I laugh softly, enjoying the lightness she brings to my day. She has always been like that — an unstoppable force of nature.
    “I promise I won’t laugh,” she assures me.
    I don’t know why, but it’s that promise from her that makes it possible for me to say my dream aloud. “I want to paint. Just paint.”
    She nods, matter of factly. “Excellent plan.”
    I laugh again. “It’s not a plan, though!”
    “Of course it is. You have the what , you have the why , you have the who . All you need to tell me is the where and when, and it’s a done plan.”
    “I also need a how , and that’s a problem, along with all those other … adjectives or adverbs or whatever those were.”
    The doorbell rings and then the sound of the door opening comes right after.
    “Poop, everyone’s here.” Leah frowns. “Just when we were getting to the juicy part, too.”
    I squeeze her forearm. “Don’t worry, we can pick up where we left off later when everyone’s gone.”
    “Or sooner.” Leah grins at me before turning around and leaving the kitchen.
    I follow behind, hoping that comment doesn’t mean what I think it means. I’m about to grab her and make her explain herself, but I’m brought up short by a guy who has to be this mystery brother Leah mentioned earlier. He looks just like her, save for the fact that he appears to be cut out of cardboard. Stiff is the perfect word to describe him. Same hair, same freckles, but none of the carefree spirit that Leah has coming out of every pore.
    “Hello,” he says in a formal tone, leaning in to kiss Leah on both cheeks.
    She throws herself into his arms, forcing him to hug her. “Hello, brother of mine!” She leans back and pats his head. “Nice ‘do. I see you’ve given the gel a break.”
    He grins for a second and then his face goes back to being expressionless. “Thanks. Thought I’d try something new for a change.”
    “Fluffy. I like it.” She grins.
    He frowns. “Fluffy? No, not fluffy. Fluffy’s not good.” He turns around as if searching for a mirror, his hand going up to hover above his head.
    Leah grabs him by the arm and drags him away from the front door. “Stop