Darling Rose Gold(37)

We walked down a hallway, and Dad pointed out the downstairs bathroom. We headed back toward the staircase, and I noticed a little door built in underneath it.

“What’s this?” I asked, reaching for the handle.

“Our seasonal closet,” Dad said, gesturing for me to open the door. “Holiday decorations and wrapping paper and stuff. No one ever goes in there.”

I ducked my head and stepped inside the small, unfinished room. Wreaths, Christmas stockings, Easter baskets, a big sewing kit, Halloween costumes, and more filled the room. The closet was stuffy, nothing special, but I liked the intimacy of it, as though it were hiding secrets in its exposed insulation.

Dad gestured for me to follow him. He opened a sliding-glass door in the living room that led to the backyard. I stepped out onto the patio and into a chilly evening. The sky was just starting to darken.

The Gillespies’ yard had a swing set in one corner, a trampoline in another. On the patio were a couple chairs and a grill. Dad paused at the grill, holding the lid handle. When I stopped looking around and focused on him, he lifted the lid with a flourish.

“Ta-da!” he said. On the grill were a dozen beef patties.

He’d remembered. I blinked back tears.

“Now,” he said, “for a lesson.” He grabbed an apron—I cook for kisses embroidered on it in bubbly lettering—from the patio chair and tied it around his waist. He fired up the grill.

“First, we sprinkle garlic and onion salt on the patties,” he explained as he worked. “Then a few splashes of Worcestershire sauce.” The meat was still raw, yet already my mouth watered.

“Never press down on the burger while cooking,” Dad said. “You’ll squeeze all the juices out. Only flip your patties once—about three minutes on each side. And finally, we’ll toast and butter the buns.”

I stayed quiet, but thrilled at the normalcy of grilling in the backyard with my dad. When the burgers and buns were ready, Dad and I brought the platters of food back inside and set them on the kitchen counter. “I’ll introduce you to the kids while we let the burgers rest for a few minutes.” Before I could ask, he added, “So the juices can redistribute into the meat.”

I followed him to the hallway stairs.

“Kids,” Dad called up, “come down and meet Rose.”

I braced myself, eager to meet them. Someone thumped down the stairs. Two others plodded behind.

I met Anna, the six-year-old, first. She grinned at me, two front teeth missing, a good omen. Dad put his hand on her shoulder.

“Anna, this is Rose Gold,” he said a little nervously.

I crouched down at the same time Anna stepped forward, and we landed in a tight hug. “Your hair smells nice,” Anna whispered, twirling a strand around her fingers. I imagined the two of us building sand castles at the beach, me pushing her on the swings at the park, her inviting me to a tea party.

“Rose, this is Billy Jr.,” Dad said. A skinny boy of eleven stood with his hands in his pockets, not meeting my eyes. He looked uncomfortable, but then, I guessed all boys that age did. He gave me a small wave before returning his hand to his pocket.

“And this is Sophie,” Dad went on. The thirteen-year-old girl stood on the middle of the staircase, arms crossed. She had mild acne and braces. What I wouldn’t have given to have had braces at her age.

I smiled at her, mouth closed. She smiled back, then peered out the front window at the street. “You drive a van?” She sounded unimpressed—and a little rude.

I had expected my new siblings and stepmom to welcome me with open arms. I thought they’d be as excited about me as I was about them. So far everyone but Anna seemed apathetic.

“Sophie,” Kim called from the kitchen, “help me put dinner on the table.”

Sophie trotted past me without a word. I tried to forget the bad feeling; we had the entire night to turn this first impression around.

“Why don’t we sit down, kids?” Dad said. His kids included me. I was one of his kids. I beamed, pretending to examine my nails so he wouldn’t notice how pathetically happy I was to be one of their group.

“Can I help with anything?” I asked.

He shook his head.

We reentered the dining room. The table had been filled to the brim with toppings and condiments.

Anna, Billy Jr., and I took seats at the table.

“That’s Mommy’s seat,” Anna said, pointing at the chair I’d chosen. I jumped up, wincing.

Billy Jr. rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, Anna.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at your sister,” Dad said.

Billy Jr. sighed and took a bag of Goldfish crackers out of his pocket. He ate them ten at a time, like a toddler without self-control.

“Put those away. You’ll ruin your appetite,” Dad grumbled.

Billy Jr. slid the crackers back into his pocket.

“Where should I sit?” I asked them.

Anna patted the seat next to her. I sat in it. She started playing with my hair again. I had forgotten how good it felt to be doted on.

Kim came in with the plate of burgers, and Sophie followed close behind with the buns. Dad filled everyone’s glasses with milk. Once we were all seated at the table, Dad started to say grace. Kim bowed her head and closed her eyes, but the kids just stared at the burgers. I decided to bow my head but keep my eyes open, to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Nothing happened, though; the kids sat there, waiting.