“I still have a few flowers from my mom’s casket. They’re dried up now, but it makes me feel somehow still connected to her.” Marie looked down. “Luc doesn’t understand. He thinks I should throw them away.”
“Have you told him why you’ve kept the flowers?”
“No.”
“You should.”
She shrugged and picked up a red bra.
“I have my mother’s engagement ring,” Jane confessed. “My father left her wedding band with her, but he kept her engagement ring, and I used to wear it on a chain around my neck.” She hadn’t talked about the ring in years and what it meant to her. Caroline didn’t understand, because her mother had run off with a trucker. But Marie did.
“Where is the ring now?”
“In my underwear drawer. I put it away a few years after my mother died. I imagine you’ll put your flowers away when the time is right for you.”
Marie nodded and chose a white water-bra. “Look at this one.”
“It looks heavy.” Jane picked one from the rack and squeezed the bottom. It was heavy and squishy and she wondered what Luc would think of his little sister wearing a push-up bra. She wondered what he’d think if she wore one. “Luc might not want you to buy a big ol‘ padded bra.”
“Oh, he won’t care. He probably won’t even notice,” Marie said and took four bras and disappeared into the dressing room. While Jane waited for her, she picked up the numerous shopping bags and moved a few feet away to the panties department.
Jane might not know a lot about bras, but she was a panties connoisseur. Two years ago, she’d become a thong convert. At first she’d hated them, but now she loved them. They didn’t ride up like conventional panties because, well, they were already up. While she waited, she bought six cotton and lycra thongs with matching camisoles.
Once Marie emerged from the dressing
room, she placed a handful of panties and three bras on the checkout counter. The cell phone in her purse chirped and she flipped it open.
“Hello,” she answered. “Hmm… Yeah, I think so.” She glanced at Jane. “I’ll ask her. Luc wants to know if you’re hungry.”
Luc? “Why?”
Marie shrugged. “Why?” she asked him. She handed the clerk Luc’s credit card, then told Jane, “It’s his night to cook. He says since you’re coming over to interview him, he’ll throw something on for you too.”
Two things occurred to Jane at the same time. That Luc cooked, and that he must not be mad at her anymore. “Tell him I’m starved.”
Chapter 12
Put in the Third Row: Hit Hard
“It’s weird not having a yard,” Marie said, talking about the differences in her life now that she lived in Luc’s Bell Town condo. “And I don’t do laundry anymore,” she added as they stepped out of the elevator on the nineteenth floor. “That’s nice.”
“Luc does your laundry?”
Marie laughed. “No.” They moved down the hall to the last door on the left. “We send it out and it comes back all clean and folded.”
“Even your underwear?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t think I want anyone touching my panties,” Jane said while Marie opened the door. At least not strangers, she thought as she stepped inside and came to an abrupt halt. The impact of the windows stopped Jane in her tracks and replaced thoughts of strange people folding her thongs. The windows ran from floor to ceiling and took up an entire wall. Beyond the tops of buildings, she could see the ships in Elliott Bay. The room was filled with a deep blue couch and chairs and wrought-iron-and-glass coffee and end tables. The angles of the rooms seemed to flow in on themselves and big potted plants thrived in brushed stainless steel pots. To her left, the Devils battled Long Island on the big-screen television, while Dave Matthews pumped through the stereo fit into a huge entertainment center.
Luc stood in the open kitchen separated from the living room by a granite bar. The cabinets behind him had glass fronts with chrome handles. The appliances were stainless steel and a bit futuristic-looking. Luc picked up a remote and cut the sound to the stereo. A smile curved his mouth and crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You look great, Marie.”
Marie dumped her bags on the floor and tossed her coat on the couch. She spun around for her brother. “I think I look twenty-one,” she said.
“Not quite.” He turned his smile on Jane, and she once again felt like a magnate, pulled by a force stronger than herself. “Wanna beer, Jane?”
“No, thanks. I don’t drink beer.” She set her briefcase and jacket on the couch.