were finally becoming close in the way sisters were supposed to be.
She and Daniel often sat together on the back deck talking while I cleaned the kitchen and bathed the boys.
Once I even told her,
“I’m glad you two get along.”
She smiled.
“You’re lucky, Jen. He’s great.”
She answered my call on the second ring.
Bright.
Cheerful.
“Hey, Jen!”
“How long?”
Silence.
Then:
“Oh.”
“How long, Claire?”
“Daniel told you.”
“He says six months.”
She exhaled.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
No answer.
“At Christmas?
