Danielle Steel: Sisters

“Why is that such a big deal?” He wasn't close to his family, and had no plans to visit them during his sabbatical year. He had mentioned more than once that he thought it was childish of her to be so attached to her sisters and parents. She was twenty-six after all.

“It's a big deal because my family is very close,” she explained. “It's not about the Fourth of July as a holiday. It's about spending a week with my sisters, and my mom and dad. I go home for Thanksgiving and Christmas too,” she warned, so there would be no disappointment or misunderstanding about it later on. The holidays were sacred times for all of them.

Charlie had been mildly annoyed, and rather than waiting for another week to go to Pompeii with her, he said he would make the trip with another artist friend. Annie was disappointed not to go with him, but decided not to make an issue of it. At least that way he'd have something to do while she was gone. He had recently hit a slump in his work, and was struggling with some new techniques and ideas. For now, it wasn't going well, although she was sure he'd pull out of it soon. He was a very talented artist, although an older artist who had advised him in Florence said that the purity of his work had been corrupted by the time he had spent doing design. The senior artist thought there was a commercial quality to his work which he needed to undo. His comments had insulted Charlie profoundly, and he hadn't spoken to his self-appointed critic for weeks. He was extremely sensitive about his art, as many artists were. Annie was more open to critiques, and welcomed them, in order to improve her work. Like her sister Candy, there was a surprising modesty about her, and who she was. She was without artifice or malice, and was astonishingly humble about her work.

She had been trying to get Candy to visit her for months, and between her trips to Paris and Milan, there had been ample opportunity, but Florence was off Candy's beaten path, and Annie's scene among starving artists wasn't for her. Candy loved going to places like London and St. Tropez between jobs. Annie's art scene in Florence was light-years from Candy's life, and the reverse was true as well. Annie had no desire to fly to Paris to meet her sister, or stay in fancy hotels like the Ritz. She was much happier wandering around Florence, eating gelato, or going to the Uffizi for the thousandth time in her sandals and peasant skirt. She preferred that to getting dressed up or wearing makeup or high heels, as everyone in Candy's crowd did. She disliked the superficial people Candy hung out with. Candy always said that Annie's friends all looked like they needed a bath. The two sisters lived in totally different worlds.

“When are you leaving again?” Charlie asked her, when he came to her apartment. She had promised to cook him dinner the night before she left, after her class. She bought fresh pasta, tomatoes, and vegetables, and she planned to make a sauce she had just heard about. Charlie brought a bottle of Chianti, and poured her a glass while she cooked, as he admired her from across the room. She was a beautiful girl, completely natural and unassuming. To anyone who met her, she seemed like a simple girl, when in fact she was extremely well educated in her field, highly trained, and came from a family that he had long since guessed was very well off, although Annie never mentioned the advantages she had had in her youth, and still did. She led a quiet, hardworking artist's life. The only sign of her somewhat upper-class roots was the small gold signet ring she wore on her left hand, with her mother's crest. Annie was quiet and modest about that too. The only yardstick she measured herself and others by was how hard they worked on their art, how dedicated they were.

“I'm leaving tomorrow,” she reminded him, as she set down a big bowl of pasta on the kitchen table. It smelled delicious, and she grated the Parmesan herself. The bread was hot and fresh. “That's why I'm cooking for you tonight. When are you and Cesco going to Pompeii?”

“Day after tomorrow,” he said quietly, smiling at her across the table, as they sat down on two of the unmatched, slightly shaky chairs she had found discarded in the street. She had acquired most of her furniture that way. She spent as little as possible of her parents' money, just for rent and food. There were no obvious luxuries in her life. And the little car she drove was a fifteen-year-old Fiat. Her mother was terrified it wasn't safe, but Annie refused to buy a new one.

“I'm going to miss you,” he said sadly. It was going to be the first time they'd been separated since they met. He told her he was in love with her within a month of their first date. She liked him better than she had anyone in years, and was in love with him too. The only thing that worried her about their relationship was that he was going back to the States in six months. He was already nagging her to move back to New York, but she wasn't ready to leave Italy yet, even for him. It was going to be a hard decision for her when he left. Despite her love for him, she was loath to give up the opportunity for ongoing studies in Florence for any man. Until now, her art had always come first. This was the first time she had ever questioned that, which was scary for her. She knew that if she left Florence for him, it would be a huge sacrifice for her.

“Why don't we go somewhere after we get back from Umbria?” he suggested, looking hopeful, and she smiled. They were planning to go to Umbria with friends in July, but he loved and needed time alone with her.

“Wherever you want,” she said, and meant it. He leaned across the table and kissed her then, and she served him the pasta, which they both agreed was delicious. The recipe had been good, and she was a very good cook. He often said that meeting her had been the best thing that had happened to him since he'd arrived in Europe. When he said it, it touched her heart.

She was taking photographs of him to show her sisters and her mom, but they had figured out that this was an important relationship for her. Her mother had already said to her sisters that she hoped Charlie would convince Annie to move back. She respected what Annie was doing in Italy, but it was so far away, and she never wanted to come home anymore, she was so happy there. It had been a great relief when she'd agreed to come home for the Fourth of July, as usual. Her mother was afraid with each passing year that one of them would break tradition and stop coming home as they always had. And once that happened, it would never be the same again. So far none of the girls was married or had children, but their mother was well aware that once that happened, things would change. In the meantime, until it did, she savored her time with them, and cherished their visits every year. She realized that it was nothing short of a miracle that all four of her daughters still came home three times a year, and even managed to visit whenever possible in between.

Annie came home less frequently than the others, but she was religious about the three major holidays they celebrated together. Charlie was far less involved with his family and said he hadn't been home to New Mexico to see them for nearly four years. She couldn't imagine not seeing her parents or sisters for that long. It was the one thing she missed in Florence, her family was too far away.

Charlie drove her to the airport the next day. It was going to be a long journey for her. She was flying to Paris, had a three-hour layover at the airport, and was catching a four P.M. flight to New York. She was getting to New York at six, local time, and expected to be home just after they finished dinner around nine. She had called her sister Tammy the week before, and they were getting home within half an hour of each other. Candy was arriving earlier, and Sabrina only had to drive in from New York, if she could drag herself out of the office, and of course she was bringing her awful dog. Annie was the only member of the family who hated dogs. The others were inseparable from theirs, except Candy when she traveled for work. She had her absurdly spoiled toy Yorkshire terrier with her the rest of the time, usually dressed in pink cashmere sweaters and bows. Annie had missed out on the dog-loving gene, although her mother was happy to have them home, with or without dogs.