The Sparkling One

“If you keep acting like a kid, your dad is going to treat you like one. If you want to show him you’re ready to get married, then act like a grown-up. After a big fight you can’t just ignore the whole thing. You have to own up to what happened. At least call and say you’re okay.”



David’s blue eyes flashed with determination. “I don’t care if he thinks I’m a kid. I’m over eighteen and he can’t tell me what to do.”



Mia clenched her teeth. If she allowed herself to say even one word, she would scream. David’s “he can’t tell me what to do” statement made him sound about four years old. So much for making her point.



He looked at her. “I don’t need him to approve.”



He sounded defiant enough, but Mia wasn’t sure she believed him. David and his father had always been close and going against him would be very difficult. Besides, even though it made her feel disloyal to admit it, David wasn’t exactly a poster child for the mature young adult. She loved him, but she wasn’t blind to his flaws.



“The wedding is a long way off,” she said. “He might come around.”



David nodded but didn’t look convinced. He flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “It’s weird not to talk to him for this long. We’ve always talked.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Even when he was mad at me when I was a kid, he talked. Sometimes when he went on and on about something I’d screwed up on, I used to wish he’d just spank me so we could get it over with. But he never did. Not even once. But he talked for hours.”



Mia sat back on her heels and let the love in David’s voice chase away her doubts. One of the things she adored about her fiancé was his ability to love with his whole heart.



“He was always good to me,” David went on, turning his head to look at her. “After my mom left, there wasn’t much money. Dad was in law school and she’d taken the rest of his trust fund. So we struggled. But he made sure there were lots of good times. He traded his car in for a truck with a shell on the back. We’d take it up to the mountains or to the beach and go camping for the weekend. Just us guys.”



“Sounds like fun,” she said and shifted into a sitting position. Her palm came down on something hard and pointed. “Ouch.”



“What?” David hung over the side of the bed.



“I don’t know.” She raised her hand, then ran her fingers through the shag throw rug David and his roommate had bought at the beginning of the school year. Something metal bounced when she hit it.



Mia picked up a small gold hoop. “It’s an earring.”



David reached for it, but she held it out of reach.



“Give it here,” he told her.



“Not until you explain it,” she teased.



He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Mia, get real. Brian has a new girlfriend every ten days. I have no idea which one of them dropped an earring in here.”



She tossed the piece of jewelry onto Brian’s bed. “You’d better not be messing around on me, mister. If you do, I’ll chop your legs off at the knees.”



She laughed and David grinned. Then he looked away. For a split second Mia felt something cold clutch at her midsection. Then she dismissed the feeling and joined David on his narrow mattress, where he drew her close and told her how much he loved her.



“Everything’s going to be okay with my dad,” he promised.



“I believe you,” she told him, because it was easier than speaking the truth.



“Other people have milk with their cookies,” Brenna said as she picked up another chocolate chip cookie from the plate.



Francesca waved her glass. “They’re philistines.”



Considering the amount of wine the three sisters had already consumed that evening, Francesca’s ability to pronounce a three-syllable word was impressive. Katie herself had passed coherent about thirty minutes ago and was now functioning in that pleasant state of being buzzed. The world might be spinning, but as she didn’t have to go anywhere, what did it matter?



The sisters sprawled across the two double beds in the room that Brenna and Francesca had shared while they’d both lived at the hacienda. Since moving back home after staying with Francesca, Brenna had started packing up memorabilia from high school, but had yet to tackle the excessively pink wallpaper both had loved as teenagers, along with the gaggingly sweet bedspreads, also pink, with flowers, hearts, and swirls of ribbon.



Brenna sat crossed-legged at the foot of the bed, a tray of cookies next to her. Katie sat on the same bed, with her back against the headboard, while Francesca lay in a rather undignified sprawl on the second bed, one arm hanging toward the floor, swinging her half-full wineglass.



“You always had your own room,” Brenna said, turning to glare accusingly at Katie. “I always thought that was unfair.”



Katie laughed. “It’s been nearly ten years. You need to let that go.”



“Not even on a bet.”



Francesca raised her head. Her straight, thick hair hung down, shielding most of her face. “I thought you liked that we shared a room.”



“I did. I just wanted one of my own, too.” She grinned. “Now that my lifelong dream has come true, I’ll be decorating it in red velvet and black satin.”



Katie shook her head. Had the wine affected her hearing?



Francesca looked equally confused. “Because you’re going for the sleazy look?”



“No. Because I’m the seductive one.”



“Seductive…” Katie’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t!”



Brenna laughed. “Oh, but I did and it’s so embarrassing.”



She unfolded her legs, then set down her wineglass and slid off the bed. From underneath she pulled a shallow, open box. Inside were three bottles.



Katie saw them and winced. Years ago, after a long, boring weekend spent listening to their parents and grandparents plan the detailed wording of wine bottle labels, Katie, Francesca, and Brenna had decided to create their own. They’d taken three unlabeled bottles from the storeroom and had carefully glued on pictures of themselves in full dress-up clothing. On the back they’d applied hand-lettered labels, detailing the glory that was each of them.



Katie took the first bottle Brenna held out, glanced at the picture of an eleven-year-old Francesca, and passed it across to her sister. Francesca groaned.



“The Sassy One,” she read, then gulped more wine. “Francesca Marcelli tosses her long hair in a gesture that marks her as not just the pretty one, but also the Sassy One. Bold, inventive, with just a hint of irrelevance—” She paused. “I think that’s supposed to be irreverence…. she is the essence of blossoming illocution.”



Katie laughed as she took the next bottle and recognized a photo of herself. She was dressed in yards of tulle and lace. One of the more elaborate costumes she’d made all those years ago.



“The Sparkling One,” she read. “Katie Marcelli is a carbonated combination of wit and charm. She dazzles, she sparkles, she shines. Like the champagne she embodies, she is only ever special, iridescent, and valued.” Katie glanced up. “I’m iridescent?” She looked at her arm, then held it to the light. “I must have outgrown that.”



Brenna giggled. “At least you get to be glowing colors. I’m just a slut.”



Francesca turned onto her stomach. “Read on, O Seductive One.”



Brenna sighed. “Brenna Marcelli’s sultriness proves that she is the Seductive One. Dark, sweet, and slightly mysterious, she is a gleaming testament to all young women on the verge of lush ripeness.”



Brenna glanced at her sisters. “I used to gleam.”



“You used to hate boys,” Katie reminded her. “What happened?”



“Hormones. I turned eleven and suddenly they were really interesting.” She set down her bottle. “Too bad Mia is so much younger. She was still a baby when we made these. I wonder what she would have been.”



“The Smart One,” Francesca said.



“The One Most Likely to Take Over the World,” Katie said.



Brenna smiled and climbed back on the bed. “So, Francesca, I was thinking we’d show Katie’s bottle to Zach the next time he comes over. What do you think?”



“Brilliant idea.”



Katie shook her head. “No way. I don’t need to be humiliated in front of him again. I’ve already had that pleasure, remember? The first time he came to the house.”



“But you recovered,” Francesca pointed out. “And you seem to be spending a lot of time together.”



Katie felt heat on her cheeks. She told herself it was the wine, but she knew she was lying. “I’m working with the man.”



“Uh-huh.” Brenna picked up the bottle of Cabernet and topped up her glass. “I wonder if there’s more to it than that.”



Francesca took the bottle. “Me, too. All those late-night conversations could be leading to something interesting. He’s good-looking, smart.”



“For a divorce lawyer, he has a lot of heart,” Brenna added. “He cares about his son.”



More than either of them knew, Katie thought uneasily. “We work together. That means we have to keep things professional.”



“And here I was hoping you were going to tell us you’ve already seen him naked,” Brenna said.



“In your dreams,” Francesca told her. “As if Katie would sleep with him.”



It had to be the wine, Katie thought as her mouth opened and words formed. Because she’d certainly planned to keep this particular piece of information to herself.



“Actually I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep.”



There was a moment of silence, then both her sisters started screaming and laughing. Brenna recovered first.



“No way! You did not do it with your client, our baby sister’s future father-in-law, and my divorce lawyer.”



Katie grabbed the wine and drained the last few ounces into her glass. “You make it sound like group sex.”



Francesca nearly choked. “When? Where? Start at the beginning and talk slowly.”



“I went over to his place for a tasting dinner.”



“And you were the entrée?” Brenna asked.



Francesca threw a pillow at her. “That’s disgusting.”



“You haven’t had sex in years, so your opinion doesn’t count,” Brenna told her.



“We actually had the tasting dinner,” Katie said, ignoring them both. “We were talking, and then we were kissing, and then we were upstairs.”



“And?” Brenna prompted.



“It was very nice.”



“It should have been a whole lot better than nice,” Francesca grumbled. “You slept with David’s father.”



“Don’t make him sound old. He’s all of thirty-five,” Brenna said. “I’m guessing all the important bits are still functioning just fine.”



“They are,” Katie said primly.



Brenna collapsed on the bed and rested her feet on Katie’s lap. “I’m going to miss sex. Not that I was having it all that much with my soon-to-be ex.”



“Why not?” Francesca asked.



Brenna shrugged. “He was busy, or gone. Or screwing the bimbo. I don’t know. In the past few months we just never did it. I guess the flame had been dying out for a while, but I was too busy working all the time to notice.”



“Don’t think about him,” Katie urged. “You’ll only upset yourself.”



“You’re right. I’ll think about sex instead. Having it, or not having it. I suppose the good news is that giving up sex with Jeff won’t be a huge hardship.”



Katie nearly dropped her glass. “Excuse me?”