Alina grimaced. "Moving back home at twenty-six and giving up your gorgeous apartment?"
"You manage to say the very thing that makes me feel so much better about myself---not."
Alina set a box on the kitchen table with a thud.
"Noah doesn't actually think he stood me up. He thinks he was just late." Her harsh laugh burst with ten pounds of derision. "As if the church full of guests and the entire bridal party had to exhibit a bit more patience while he was emergency-hunting a client. That if we'd all only waited at the church for a few more hoưrs, everything would have been fine. Let's not forget the insults and mockery his guests have me." She tried hard to fight the tears that piled up in her eyes.
"I'm not good enough for him? Hell, he's not good enough for me---" She paused. "And why did he invite that good-for-nothing-heels-clicking ex of his, huh?"
"Why did he invite her in the first place? We had two arguments about Celine over the past month."
"Listen, Iva, I stamped all those envelopes myself. Noah sent out invitations to everyone at the firm. He couldn't leave her
out, especially when they're paired up on this case.
"Why did she RSVP? Didn't she realize it was a pity invitation not an event she was expected to actually attend?" She laughed again. " I could see the mockery in her eyes. She always wins. Why can't I win?"
"Iva, you have the man of her dreams. Doesn't that count as winning."
"Had."
Alina shook her head while she pulled a suitcase into Iva's old bedroom.
The gall. The nerve. "I think he's more pissed that I wouldn't still go on the honeymoon trip with him. After all, the tickets are paid for, right? Why can't we have a honeymoon without being married? I practically broke a second phone when he suggested that. He can't understand why I'm so angry. Why I don't want to see him."
"Have you seen him at all?"
"No," Iva said shortly. "If I did, I'd probably be arrested for strangling him."
Her childhood bedroom was at the front of the house and they paused as one of the daily tour buses hauled past the window, filled with tourists headed to the bridge. Iva unzipped the first suitcase.
"I should probably change clothes and head over to the fry truck to help my parents. But all I want to do is flop on the bed and stare out the window with a margarita in each hand."
"Cora's there-at the fry truck, I mean," Alina said with a quick laugh. "You know, they have been getting along without you
all these years."
Iva shook her head. "Cora's doing something else today, but I can't remember what exactly. I've never been able to keep
track of my little sister."
"She's just taking advantage of your pain to run off with her friends."
Iva's cell phone buzzed and she dumped out her purse to find it.
"Hi Mom," she said, tossing clothes half-heartedly into the empty bureau.
Iva listened to her mother for a moment, sighed, and then said goodbye. She snapped the phone off and dropped the device onto the bed, where the mattress immediately sculpted a huge dent from the impact.
"What's up?" Alina asked, taking a few pictures of Iva's time-capsule bedroom. Iva flung clothes about, searching for an old uniform in the closet. "My darling little sister is AWOL and I have to get to the Fry Truck pronto. An extra bus just unloaded."
Lina gave her a pained smile. "I'll come with you."
Fifteen minutes later, Iva found herself experiencing déjà-vu and slinging fries like she never left home. As if she hadn't spent the past two years using her MBA managing an actual bank with reports squarely in the black.
Dad was slicing potatoes on the sanitized stainless steel table while Mom stood over the big fryers, her face serene, skin gleaming with perspiration.
When Iva arrived, Dad lifted a silent hand in greeting, Mom handed her a full length apron, and then went back to work. Iva grabbed the order pad and quickly ran her fingers over the numbers on the cash register-the same one they'd used since she was twelve.
"Can I help?" Alina asked.
"No, dear, we're good," Mrs. Remington said calmly. "We have a routine."
"If you say so, but I'll get in line for a bag of fries and contribute to the cause."
Lina did get in line, her sun hat flopping above dark glasses, as if she was determined to be incognito and not recognized as a local.