Kathy brightened a little. “It would look great with your dress.” She winked at her, then headed toward the house.
Finn turned back to Chris Five, who was now sitting on his perch. With his wings pressed against his body and his feet hidden beneath his round bird belly, he looked like an egg someone had hidden for Easter. “What do you think I should do, Chris?” Finn asked. Indifferent to her quandary, the bird closed his eyes.
Then, more to herself than to him, “Don’t tell Zadie.”
TWOTIME FOR CAKE
Zadie was late as usual. You’d think a psychic would always be one step ahead, but she wasn’t like most psychics. Actually, Zadie had no idea what most psychics were like because she’d never met another.
When she opened the double doors to the zoological gardens’ party pavilion, not one of the bustling partygoers looked in her direction. She wasn’t particularly surprised that no one noticed her. Zadie’s and Finn’s lives didn’t overlap much. If she were to illustrate it using a Venn diagram, there would be a small sliver where their circles intersected with their mom’s name written on it along with Cowgirl, their childhood cat.
Clutching a poorly wrapped graduation gift in her arms, Zadie took a deep breath and crossed into Finn’s circle. She awkwardly shuffled through the sea of family friends, classmates, and teammates dressed in various hues of sidewalk chalk. She felt utterly out of place in her distressed skinny jeans and neon yellow bomber jacket.
Eventually she spotted the gifts table by a window that overlooked a colorful wildflower garden and made a beeline for it. Hers was by far the shabbiest of all the presents—she hadn’t even thought to stick a bow on it—so she hid it behind a giant gift basket filled with expensive beauty products. Clearly, whoever had bought that gift didn’t know Finn at all. She never even wore mascara.
Or maybe she did. Zadie hadn’t seen her sister in months. She could have gotten a nose job for all she knew.
She discreetly slipped a perfume bottle from the basket and spritzed a small amount on her wrist. As she placed the bottle back in its shredded paper nest, she heard a voice say, “Hi, Zadie.”
Zadie jumped and turned to see Finn’s foster mom, Kathy, standing behind her, smiling with all the enthusiasm of someone asking if they have something in their teeth. She was wearing what Zadie thought of as amomcho: a silky poncho with a colorful print and often some kind of rhinestone brooch pinned to the shoulder. Kathy’s was a jewel-toned paisley number that accentuated her inner Blanche Devereaux—a compliment coming from Zadie, as Blanche was by far her favorite Golden Girl.
Kathy’s eyes flicked over to the gift basket, her subtle way of letting Zadie know she was watching her. “Finn is excited to see you. She can’t stop talking about your trip.”
Zadie tried to mask her discomfort under what she hoped was a smile. “Yeah, it should be fun.”
“I love the beach. Steve and I try to make it down to the Gulf at least once a year. It’s where I got that.” She pointed to a corkboard display decorated with photos of Finn. On it hung a whitewashed frame that readLIFE IS BETTER AT THE BEACHwith a picture of the whole family—Kathy, Steve, their adult son, Daniel, and Finn—taken on one such trip to the beach. The shot captured the four of them mid-jump, all with cheesy grins on their faces.
Zadie searched for something to say. “Cool” was all that came out.
“We’ve been talking about moving down there when Steve retires in a couple of years. Finn already has a place picked out for us. She says she’s going to take the master.” Kathy started to laugh but stopped abruptly. She must have seen the expression on Zadie’s face. The one that looked like a flower whose last petal had just been plucked.
“Z!” Finn lurched out of a scrum of red-and-white varsity jackets and tackled her sister in a hug. “You’re here!”
Zadie stumbled back a step. She wasn’t much of a hugger, never mind a surprise hugger. Finn was the opposite. When she was a kid, Zadie remembered her regularly hugging strangers at the park or at the library. In that way, Finn was a lot like their mom: sweet, bright, citrus. She even looked like her from certain angles; they both did, despite looking nothing like each other. Finn was tall and dark, with glossy black curls. Zadie, although five years older, was three inches shorter, with the complexion of a shortbread cookie. Most people had no idea they were related.
Finn pulled away and struck a pose. “What do you think?” It took a second for Zadie to realize she was talking about the straw UFO on her head.
“It definitely makes a statement.”
“I think you lookgorgeous,” Kathy said emphatically. “Doesn’t she, Steve?”
Steve was on his way to the buffet to load up his paper plate for a third time when his wife corralled him into the conversation. He had grown out and waxed his mustache since the last time Zadie had seen him and, like many of the men over the age of fifty in the room, was sporting a bolo tie. “What was that, honey?”
“I said, ‘Isn’t Finn pretty?’”
“Oh, yes. Very handsome.”
Kathy’s jaw dropped. “Steve, you don’t call a lady handsome!”
“Why not? Handsome was commonly used for both menandwomen at the turn of the last century.”
Kathy turned to Zadie. “He reads one Jane Austen novel, and now he’s using words likeincorrigible.”
“She hears that one a lot.” Steve winked at the girls, then jumped out of Kathy’s reach as she attempted to swat him. “If you need me, I’ll be with the meat,” he said and hurried away.
“I should probably check in with the caterers about the cake.” Kathy nodded politely at Zadie. “It was nice to see you.”
“You too.”