The Chicken Sisters(31)

It was the chicken she’d sent him when he was born. Amanda was surprised—and delighted. She wouldn’t have thought her sister would care about that at all. She smiled and touched the chicken’s dirty wing, gently. “Hi, Ryder,” she said.

Ryder buried his face and the chicken in Mae’s shoulder, but Amanda didn’t give up. “I sent you that chicken,” she said softly. “When you were a little baby. I’m glad he’s so loved. What’s his name?”

Ryder said something she didn’t understand, and Madison reached up and held his foot. “It used to be Chicken but now it’s Rawlings,” she said. “Daddy named it. Rydie still calls it Chicken, though.”

Mae set Ryder down and crouched behind both children. “Give your aunt Amanda a hug, then,” she said. Madison hesitated, and Ryder backed into Mae as Amanda held up her hands and took a step back.

“No way,” she said. “I haven’t earned a hug yet, right, guys? I can’t hug you. I just met you.” She crossed her arms and made a pouty face, and Madison giggled. “No hugs for you. Maybe later.” Mae met Amanda’s eyes with a look that said she’d noticed Amanda’s implied critique but was ignoring it, and then her attention was caught by someone coming down the sidewalk, a girl Amanda didn’t recognize, carrying two cups from Patrick’s.

Mae stood up and waved. “There she is,” Mae said. “The lattes at that new place, 1908 something, are to die for. Jessa brought me one, and I already sent her for a second. I should have had her grab you one, too. Have you been? Main Street is so different. You never told me someone reopened the five-and-dime, and it’s totally cute now. Or about the craft store. Or the bookstore. They had my book in the window!”

“Of course I’ve been to Patrick’s,” Amanda said. No one called it the 1908 Standard, no matter what it said on the sign. “They have the best coffee in town. Plus, that’s part of Kenneth’s place. His bed-and-breakfast, the one they’ve been renovating for years. You’re on Facebook, Mae; you have to know this stuff. Patrick is Kenneth’s husband, and they came back a while ago and redid the old inn, and there is no way you could have missed it. They put up pictures every day for months.”

Mae looked down for a second, then straight at Amanda. “I haven’t spoken to Kenneth since we graduated, except at your wedding,” she said. “I’m not Facebook friends with anyone from Merinac except you.”

Amanda was shocked. “But that’s the whole point of Facebook. To keep up with people. You’re on Facebook all the time. What the hell are you doing? And Kenneth was your best friend. I know you dropped everyone when you went to college, but Kenneth? Plus his place is gorgeous. I can’t believe you aren’t staying there.”

“I’m close enough to Mom’s house as it is,” Mae said. “Look, Kenneth went and did his thing. I did mine. And now I’m back, and I will say hi and drink his husband’s unbelievable coffee, and what really matters, especially if he owns a business on Main, is Food Wars. Food Wars is going to fucking save this town.” She turned away from Amanda as the coffee carrier rushed up.

“Sorry that took so long, Mae; there was a line,” she said.

“That’s totally okay. Jessa, my sister, Amanda. Amanda, this is Jessa, our nanny.”

Amanda stuck out her hand. Nanny? Mae brought a nanny? To Merinac? Her sister truly had lost touch, and not just with Kenneth, which Amanda still couldn’t believe. Bringing a nanny was an asshole move, and her comment about Food Wars saving this town raised every one of Amanda’s hackles, even if she had thought much the same thing. Merinac was actually doing fine, thanks for asking, with more new people and businesses than there had been in years—case in point, the coffee Mae loved so much. “Nice to meet you,” Amanda said to the girl, but Jessa’s attention had already turned to the kids, who were greeting her with a lot more enthusiasm than they had shown Amanda, possibly because she also produced juice boxes from the bag over her shoulder as she handed Mae her coffee.

“Guys,” she said, “I found a swing set. And a slide! Let’s go!” She quickly turned back and took Amanda’s hand. “Nice to meet you, too,” she said as she picked up Ryder and held out a hand to Madison. “We’re off, then,” Jessa said to Mae, and Mae waved. No fuss, no hugs, and the kids were heading down the street.

“Bye,” Amanda called after them, and Madison turned. In that over-the-shoulder glance, Amanda could see that she looked just like Mae.

“Bye, Aunt Amanda,” Madison called, then tugged at Ryder. “Say bye, Ryder.”

Bossy, too.

Ryder waved his chicken at Amanda, and she felt a small crush of affection for him rush through her. “Bye,” he called. The obedient younger. For now.

“They’re so cute,” she said to Mae, who had already turned away. “We could have taken them with us. I mean, your nanny? You brought a nanny?”

“Please, Amanda, everybody in Brooklyn has a nanny. You didn’t think I was going to come out here and try to do Food Wars while juggling a six-year-old and a three-year-old, did you?”

Three references to New York in less than as many minutes, true to Mae form. Also true to form was the annoyance Amanda felt after a few minutes of her sister’s company, an experience she could usually end by hanging up the phone. Once past the hair, Mae hadn’t asked a thing about Amanda, or her kids. She’d managed to combine insult and condescension in nearly every sentence, and now she was brushing off her own kids as if they were just another inconvenient bump on the golden Mae road. Why not have them at Mimi’s? Of course, in New York, things were different. “We grew up at Mimi’s,” she said. She couldn’t remember a single babysitter, not ever. Only the great-aunts, and Mae, always in charge, always there.