“Um, okay. No one’s ever told me the rules.” Not that I ever anticipated the whole see-my-twin-sister-in-dreams scenario. “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  So much . . . so much. “I’m sorry I didn’t hold it together for the ceremony today.”

  “Oh, I know you were never the public speaker, Pay. It’s okay.”

  “I let you down.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “You’re not?”

  At last Pepper turned and faced me. “I would say life is too short . . . but really, it’s too long for me to stay mad at you. Johanna’s the tally keeper, not me.”

  “You saw all that in the locker room?”

  “No—I’m not playing some sort of spiritual spying game on you. I just figured Johanna hasn’t changed. Has she?”

  “No. No, she hasn’t.”

  “But you have.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? “Well, of course I have. I’m older and—”

  “Wiser?”

  No. “Why are you here, Pepper?”

  “You know why.”

  “If I knew the answer, I wouldn’t be asking the question. Am I some female version of Scrooge?”

  “A Christmas Carol? Really? You know I only liked the Muppet version of that story. And I never believed in ghosts.”

  “I don’t want to talk about what you believe in.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Were you right?”

  “Was I right about what?”

  “Never mind . . . It doesn’t matter.”

  “But you asked. . . .”

  I asked, but did I really want to know? Did I want to get into who was right and who was wrong? “Are you happy, Pepper?”

  “It’s not about happiness, Payton. It’s about truth.”

  “So are you happy because you knew the truth?”

  My sister paced the gym floor. “You’re not asking the right questions—”

  “And you are? Asking me about why I don’t have a dog or a cat? Why I’m vegan?”

  “I’m just trying to catch up with you, that’s all. To get to know you again.”

  “Maybe you’re not asking the right questions, either.” There. Two could play that game.

  “Fair enough. What were you and Zachary Gaines talking about?”

  Any question but that. “Nothing.”

  “Oh, Pay. Don’t lie to me.”

  The look in her eyes stopped me short from uttering a flippant remark. “I don’t want to talk about Zachary Gaines.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Nothing. Really, nothing at all. It’s been too long.”

  “There you go, lying to me again—”

  “And what makes you such an expert on my life all of a sudden?” If only I could figure out how to walk out of this dream. “Ten years. Ten years I’ve been living all of this by myself. Figuring this out all by myself . . . I’m fine, Pepper. Fine. Just leave it alone, will you, please?”

  “That’s been working for you all these years?”

  “Yes. Yes, it has.”

  “I don’t believe you—and you don’t either.”

  “Go away, Pepper. Just . . . go away.”

  My eyes flared open and I stared into the darkness.

  I’d done it. I’d ended the conversation. Walked away from my sister.

  Victory carved a hollow space in my chest where my heart should have been, my breath seeming to whistle through my lungs. The last time I’d won an argument with my sister, I’d killed her.

  14

  MOST DAYS, work was my salvation. I lost myself in planning—keeping track of the calendar, calling suppliers, hunting down all the obscure things people wanted, finding bargains, managing social media—while Kimberlee was the perfect face of Festivities, interacting with clients and being more hands-on the day of the event. Kimberlee could calm a crowd or a distraught bride. She’d stood in for a DJ gone AWOL and a maid of honor who had one too many and couldn’t stand up to toast the bride. That was my partner—a walking, talking life of the party.

  But today, work was a clichéd necessary evil, dragging me from my bed after a night of little to no sleep following my meltdown and the dream of Pepper in her volleyball jersey, spouting cryptic statements and too many questions. I was more suited to be setting up for a funeral than a thirtieth birthday celebration. I’d even opted for slim-fitting black pants and a black top, softening it with a string of pearls. In my red flats, I looked like a vintage version of Mary Tyler Moore.

  But today wasn’t about “Woe is me.” My concern was Addison, the birthday girl, who would arrive in a couple of hours for what she thought was a casual dinner with her friend Lena, only to be surprised by ten friends jumping out and shouting, “Surprise!” and welcoming her to a “Good-Bye to the Roaring Twenties!” themed birthday party.

  Kimberlee had turned the birthday cake over to me after the bakery delivered it moments ago. My job? Remove the two-tiered confection from its box without smudging the pristine white frosting. After opening all the sides, I held my breath and slid the cake onto the kitchen counter. Gorgeous, it was absolutely gorgeous, topped with a glittery golden filigree number thirty. But even better was how both layers of the cake were adorned with “framed” color photographs of Addison growing up. An adorable newborn. A grinning toddler. A high school and college graduate. A bride kissing her husband.

  Pepper and I had our photographs on our birthday cake on our sixteenth birthday—the last birthday we celebrated together nine months before she died. My photo on the left, her photo on the right, and the words Happy Birthday, Payton and Pepper! scripted in blue icing in the middle. Of course, we looked so identical my parents could have put a single photo on the cake.

  But even more than the cake and the party with our friends—mostly our volleyball teammates—I remembered our conversation later that night.

  Pepper rolled on her side, facing me from her bed across the room. “It was fun today, wasn’t it, Pay?”

  “Yeah. Hey, you want to sneak back downstairs for another piece of cake?”

  “Absolutely.” She was out of her bed before me, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Come on!”

  Within minutes, we were settled at the table in the breakfast nook, digging into huge slices of cake. Corner pieces, of course. Less cake, more icing.

  “What happens if one of us passes the driving test and one of us doesn’t?” I retrieved the milk from the fridge, lifting the plastic container and giving it a shake. “Want some?”

  “Sure—and we’re both going to pass, just like we’re both going to the same college and playing volleyball.” Pepper brought two glasses to the table.

  “Well, you’ll be playing volleyball, anyway.”

  “You will, too.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not the one who already has coaches calling me.” I refused to voice aloud my doubts about landing a scholarship like Pepper. I would be happy for her if she did. I just didn’t know what I would do if I didn’t. “You’re the one the college scouts are looking at. Things just need to slow down—”

  “You’ve got to think ahead. It’s not like these are the best years of our lives. There are more important things than getting a driver’s license or a college scholarship.” Pepper played with her cake.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just that I’ve been talking to some friends, and they’re helping me see that I should be thinking about things like what I believe about God—”

  “What is it with these friends you’re hanging with?” Why was Pepper talking about God again? I shoved a bite into my mouth, trying to savor the rich taste of chocolate cake and sugary icing. “I don’t get it. Why is God such a big deal all of a sudden?”

  Pepper’s eyes lit up at my questions, even as her enthusiasm shut me down. “Alex and Scott and Tari are honest and open about what they believe. They don’t push God down my throat or anything like that, but they’ve been answering my questions. They even gave me a Bible—”

  “Why would you want a Bible?”

  “So I could read it, of course. Learn more about God.”

  Pepper’s blue eyes were shining, her just-a-bit-too-large mouth smiling, as she leaned forward. Staring at her had always been like looking in a mirror, but in the past weeks, Pepper had changed. Moved away from me in ways I didn’t understand. Looking at her now, it was as if her reflection was blurring, shifting out of focus.

  “That birthday cake turned out even better than I imagined.” Kimberlee’s words jarred me, causing me to grab the edge of the kitchen counter so that I didn’t jump backward. “I love the photos.”

  “Um . . . me, too.”

  “Caught you daydreaming again, didn’t I?” Kimberlee came to stand in front of me, leaning her hip against the counter, a smile softening her words.

  “Nothing important.” I blinked away the remnants of the memory.

  “Are you okay, Payton? It’s like you’re only half here today.”

  “Just need more caffeine.” I retrieved the carafe from the coffeemaker and refilled my mug.

  “If I’m correct—and I have been keeping track—that’s your sixth cup of coffee.” Kimberlee’s gaze heated my back as I spooned sugar into the black liquid. “What’s wrong?”

  Her question reminded me of sitting in Mr. Richardson’s high school history class, half-asleep. And then being called upon to answer some obscure question, even though my mind was as blank as a newly scrubbed chalkboard. Unprepared. I had nothing.

  “Just a bad night’s sleep.” The sugary scent of icing assaulted my senses, turning my stomach. The sooner I got this cake displayed, the better. “Yesterday evening was the high school ceremony honoring Pepper.”

  “What? Did I know about this?” Kimberlee’s voice was a mixture of confusion and hurt.

  “No . . . I guess with everything else going on with Jillian, I forgot to mention it.”

  “So?”

  Kimberlee obviously cared more about an explanation than she cared about getting things ready for the party. The question was, how could I keep things brief?

  “The high school Pepper and I attended had a ceremony honoring outstanding athletes. Pepper was one of them. They retired her volleyball jersey. My coach contacted me and asked me to say a few words—” did this sound as garbled to Kimberlee as it sounded to me?—“and I did.”

  Kimberlee tried to make eye contact, but I focused on the cake again. “I imagine that had to be hard. How are you? What can I do?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine. Just sleep-deprived.” Images of my family . . . the crowd in the auditorium . . . Zach Gaines . . . flashed through my mind. How would I explain all of that to Kimberlee? Or explain Pepper showing up in my dreams? I was fine. We had a birthday party to coordinate.

  But for the rest of the day, even though she never said anything, Kimberlee watched me. She’d morphed from my high school teacher to my parents, who’d kept me under not-so-covert surveillance for months after Pepper died. Every glance was a silent “What can we do to help you?”

  There was nothing my parents could do. Nothing the doctors could do. Nothing anyone could do. And Kimberlee, good friend that she was, didn’t even know the whole story, so there was nothing she could do now, either.

  I focused on the numbered list I’d prepared for the day. It was my paper lifeline, the only thing that gave me a reason to think about something other than last night’s events. Even if I wanted to, now was not the time to bare my heart to Kimberlee. And what good would it do, anyway?

  When my cell phone buzzed, I was tempted to throw it in one of the kitchen drawers. Or the trash can. A quick glance revealed a text from Johanna this time. I should have kept a running tally of how many calls and texts I’d received from my family—and Nash—since last night.

  They all might as well have been standing in the kitchen with me, just like they had during Jillian’s engagement party. Couldn’t they understand that if I didn’t answer my phone or reply to a text the first time, I wasn’t likely to reply the sixth time? Hearing the repeated muted buzzing indicating texts or phone calls wore my nerves down.

  The phone vibrated again just as I went to stash it in my purse. Probably Johanna or my parents. But Jillian’s name and face appeared on the display.

  Jillian? She had enough going on in her own life. She didn’t need to be worrying about me.

  I turned my back on the kitchen to gain a little privacy. “Hello?”

  “Payton? Oh, I’m so glad you answered. Are you okay?” Jillian’s words were a rushed whisper.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” I stared out the French doors into the expansive backyard. “There’s no need to check up on me, Jillian—”

  “I’m worried about you, Payton. We all are.”

  I’m sure Jillian heard my loud snort of disbelief. “Johanna’s just annoyed at my act last night.”

  “She’s worried, too—in her own way.”

  I wasn’t going to argue with Jillian, the sister who was always caught in between Johanna’s and my arguments—the human Switzerland between two warring countries.

  I softened my tone to match Jillian’s. “I appreciate you calling. I’m okay. I’m sorry I haven’t checked in, but I’m working today. Kimberlee and I are putting on a thirtieth birthday celebration. So, see? It’s all good. If . . . when you talk to Mom and Dad, would you tell them I’m sorry about what happened?”

  “We know yesterday was hard for you, Payton. We all understand. Really.”

  Nice words. But there was no way anyone could understand how yesterday seemed like another small chipping away at my mental stability. They thought my behavior had to do with the ceremony—but that was because they knew nothing about Pepper appearing in my dreams.

  “Thanks.” A few seconds of silence stretched between us. “Listen, I need to get back to work—”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’ll call soon.”

  “Great.”

  We said our good-byes, each of us knowing that Jillian would worry and that I wouldn’t call her anytime soon.

  Later that night, I slipped into a corner of the living room and surveyed the party. Addison sat surrounded by her girlfriends, a smile stretching across her face, laughter ringing through the air. Unwrapped gifts were left sitting on the floor. Crumbs of the glorious photograph cake were left on glass plates on the table. But it was clear the greatest joy for Addison came from these women. Her friends.

  A line of birthday cards staggered across the mantel. Addison must have treasured reading each one, be it funny or sentimental. When was the last time I’d sent anyone a birthday card? Most of the time I posted a brief Happy birthday! on Facebook, thankful for the automated reminder, or sent off a text with Hope you’re having a good day. My parents and my sisters rated a phone call and, eventually, the required family get-together.

  These women were here tonight because they loved Addison and wanted to celebrate her. I hadn’t experienced that kind of camaraderie since the high school volleyball team. There was something about working out until you wanted to throw up and battling against bigger division schools who thought your team would be an easy win that created unity and strong bonds between people. We knew we had each other’s backs both on and off the court.

  But I’d walked away from the team—and those relationships—after Pepper died. Since then I’d survived by keeping people at a distance. No close friends—even Kimberlee was allowed only so close, but no closer. Romantic relationships? None had lasted more than a year. And my family? I preferred seeing them infrequently and for short amounts of time—kind of like going to the dentist or the gynecologist.

  Maybe I hadn’t been born a loner—that would have been impossible after spending nine months in the womb with a twin sister. But losing Pepper . . . that certainly made me prefer a solitary life.

  I was late to work—or at least an hour and a half later than I usually showed up at Festivities. Bianca would be there, but odds were I’d still beat Kimberlee into the office. She’d never know, unless I confessed to her. Not that she’d care. We were partners, after all. Adults. We didn’t keep track of each other’s schedules.

  The everyday mess of our office greeted me. The piles of papers and mugs half-filled with cold coffee and leftover decorations from past events might bother someone else, but the disorganization was familiar and, in an odd sense, comforting. No ghosts of mistakes past lingered here.

  As I slipped my purse off my shoulder, Bianca appeared in the doorway that led to the reception area and remained standing between the front and back rooms. “Payton, I—”

  The reality of what I’d forgotten zapped through me like someone had served a volleyball into the back of my head. “I am so sorry! I told you that I’d give you a rundown on how the birthday party went yesterday—especially since you sat in on the brainstorming session.”

  “It’s okay—”

  “And you wanted to see how I put together our upcoming events calendar.”

  “Payton. It’s okay.” Bianca tilted her head toward the front office. “I wanted to tell you that Zach Gaines is here to see you again.”

  I paused. “Did you say Zach Gaines is here? To see me?”

  “That’s exactly what I said.”

  “Bianca!”

  “Payton!” Our receptionist’s whisper mirrored my shocked tone.

  I collapsed in my chair. “Couldn’t you have told him I had an appointment this morning?”

  “Hey, you’re the boss. I do all sorts of things for you, even cleaning the fridge.” Bianca crossed her arms. “But I don’t lie for anybody. Never have, never will.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Zach Gaines was my problem, not Bianca’s. “Tell him I’ll be right there after I get a cup of coffee—”

  “Um, you don’t need to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just trust me.” Bianca motioned toward the front. “He’s in the alcove.”

  I hitched up my jeans as I moved toward Bianca. Wait a minute. I’d bought these jeans a month ago, falling in love with them in the dressing room because they fit just right. Was I losing weight? Not that it mattered right now, but new jeans were new jeans.