Linda Lee - The Glass Kitchen - A Novel of Sisters

“He deserved it,” Olivia stated with calm certainty. “Besides, the apartment was a fifth-floor walk-up. I wasn’t going to spend hours walking up and down those stairs taking everything down to the street. That’s a rite of passage. Every woman should throw a guy’s clothes out a window once in her life.”

Cordelia scoffed. “A rite of passage is a sorority hazing or a bat mitzvah.”

“Maybe for you, Miss Marry-the-first-guy-you-date.”

“I dated!”

Portia groaned. “Please stop.”

Olivia and Cordelia ignored her.

“You only dated one other guy, Cordelia, and that didn’t turn out so well.”

“What happened?” Ariel asked.

Without Portia noticing, the girl had dumped everything out of her backpack and had retrieved a notebook. She sat now, poised with pen in hand over an empty page, like a reporter, or overeager detective. Next to her plate, a smorgasbord of paraphernalia littered the table. Several pens of assorted colors, a calculator covered in E = mc2 stickers, a wild-haired rendering of Einstein painted in fluorescent-green nail polish on an inhaler, a half-eaten KitKat bar, a mini-bottle of antibacterial gel, and multicolored knit socks with separate coverings for each toe, like gloves for feet. Portia loved the socks.

“What happened to the only other guy you dated?” Ariel persisted, ready to write.

“Nothing,” the three sisters said in unison, which brought them back together, the energy between them shifting.

Olivia touched Cordelia’s hand. That was the way with Olivia. Wild and carefree, blazing through anything bad with a bold fearlessness, but underneath a caring that Portia sometimes thought her sister worked hard to hide.

“Dating practically only one guy has served you well,” Olivia said. “You and James are great together, and you’ll survive whatever is going on now.”

Cordelia gave her a determined smile. “Thank you, sweetie.”

They shared a comfortable moment, Portia just barely realizing that Ariel studied them like a scientist scrutinizing a foreign species.

Olivia didn’t seem to notice at all, lost in her own thoughts, until she wrinkled her nose, then leaned closer. Portia could see the sparkle in her eyes that she knew meant trouble.

“So it goes without saying that you and James are perfect, yada yada,” Olivia said with another wave of her hand. “But let’s just pretend. If you had dated anyone else before you left Texas, who would it have been? Brody, right? You were madly in love with Brody. You would have slept with—”

“Olivia!” Portia barked, nodding toward Ariel. “Inappropriate. On so many levels.”

Olivia just shrugged innocently, though she didn’t look innocent at all, and squeezed Cordelia’s hand.

Ariel shook her head and rose, wandering out of the kitchen, surprising them when music suddenly blared. “Oops,” she called out from the living room. “Sorry.”

“It’s Evie’s old radio,” Olivia said.

The three of them pushed up from the stools and walked through the arch that led to the rest of the apartment. “Remember how Evie would turn it on and make us dance with her?” Portia said.

“Yeah, and not to classical music.”

“Swing.”

“And rock.”

“Punk!” Olivia cried out with a laugh.

Portia couldn’t help herself: She twirled the dial, and the minute an old eighties punk song came on, she started dancing. “Come on! Let’s dance!”

The others stared at her. But then Portia pulled Olivia in. Once Olivia got going, they turned to Cordelia.

“Oh, no. I’m too old for this.”

“You’re never too old for dancing. Besides, just a minute ago you swore you were twenty-eight.”

Portia dragged her onto the floor, and she felt her sister’s stress start melting away. All three of them danced and flailed. They turned in hops and sweeps toward Ariel, who looked half-wistful, half-disdainful, and they extended their hands.

“No way. I don’t know how to dance.”

“Knowing how doesn’t matter,” Olivia bellowed.

Then suddenly Ariel was in their midst, gyrating and waving her arms, shouting out random words from the chorus.

“Dance, baby!”

At the end of the number, Olivia swirled the dial, then smiled. “I love this one.” She turned it up louder, then sang along to a crooning Brad Paisley ballad. She hooked her arm through Cordelia’s, and Portia saw their older sister shake her head, but she smiled. And soon they all were singing. Even Ariel got into the act. Until the music snapped off mid-verse.

“What’s going on here?”

Portia nearly tripped at the sight of Gabriel Kane.

He appeared every bit as powerful as he had earlier in the day, though now there was no trace of a smile. If possible, everything dark about his eyes grew darker as he took her in, his gaze sliding over her in a heated sear. She could have sworn he seemed confused, as if he couldn’t reconcile the woman on the steps with the woman standing in the apartment.

“Dad!” Ariel laughed. If she was aware of the darkness, she didn’t show it. “Come dance it out with us!”

Dad didn’t look amused.

“Ariel, go upstairs.”

Ariel’s smile turned to a gape. “What did I do?”

“Upstairs.”

“Dad!”

“Up. Stairs.”

Portia watched Ariel march to the kitchen, stuff all her belongings back into her backpack, then sulk off. Cordelia, she noticed, quickly smoothed her already smooth hair, looking surprisingly uncomfortable. Olivia, on the other hand, definitely wasn’t put off by Gabriel’s tone. She looked him up and down. “Hi, I’m Olivia,” she said, stepping closer.

Portia felt an instant flash of irritation.

“Good God, Olivia,” Cordelia groaned, walking forward and extending her hand. “I’m Cordelia Callahan. Olivia and I sold you our portions of the town house.”

“Gabriel Kane.” He shook her hand.

He nodded briefly to Olivia, polite, but that was all, before turning back to Portia. She felt that same sense of vertigo she had experienced on the front steps, the world reeling a bit at the sight of him.

“This is our sister Portia,” Cordelia put in.

Gabriel didn’t look away from Portia. “We met. This morning.”

Cordelia gaped for one silent second before saying, “You’ve met?”

Olivia only considered her.

“Sort of,” Portia conceded.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realized she was the woman who—”

The words broke off, and Portia filled in the gap: “ who backed out of selling me the apartment.”

He brow creased, his voice growing hard. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were earlier?”

She grimaced and shrugged; the best answer she could come up with without having to admit she had hoped to avoid him like a girl in grade school.

His frown deepened, but Cordelia stepped forward, wearing a determinedly cheerful Texas welcome. “Would you like something to eat, Mr. Kane? Portia made more than enough food.”

He glanced back into the kitchen, looking at the four used place settings. Then he turned to Portia. “You fed my daughter?”

“I hope that’s okay,” she said, forcing a smile. “She was hungry. As Cordelia said, we had plenty. I can make you a plate, too.” Please say no, she prayed.

He looked like he wanted to say something, though something that had nothing to do with food. But after what looked like a frustrated second, he shook his head. “No, but thank you. And thank you for feeding Ariel.” He started to leave, then turned back. “We need to discuss the apartment.”

Portia smiled big. “Of course! We’ll discuss tomorrow.”

Though she knew she would do everything in her power to avoid him like the plague. The last thing she wanted was to discuss anything with Gabriel Kane.