My Sister's Copycat

I was balancing two glasses of sparkling cider when Laurel told me she planned to marry Judge Adrian Hart. "Not literally," she added, reaching for one of the glasses. "I haven't spoken to him yet." "That seems like an important detail." "It's a detail. Not a dealbreaker." We stood beneath the glass ceiling of the Bellwether Bay Maritime Museum, where the city had arranged a reception to celebrate Adrian's appointment to the county bench. Laurel wore a navy dress she'd bought after I told her that shade made her eyes look greener. I wore the same dress in black, because I had bought it first and then lent it to her for a fundraiser last spring. She'd returned it with a missing button. We'd never discussed the button. Across the room, Adrian Hart was shaking hands beside a display of ship models. He had a silver tie, careful hair, and the polished, unhurried manner of a man who had learned to listen without promising anything. Laurel watched him with a softness I recognized. She'd had that look once for a visiting cellist, once for a professor who wore round glasses, and once for a baker who had remembered her coffee order. "You've spoken to him?" I asked. "I introduced myself to his sister. Adrian was talking to the mayor." "That's not speaking to him." "I know what speaking means, Wren." She tipped her cider toward me. "I'm just appreciating the scenery." The reception was Laurel's idea. She ran community programs at the maritime museum and had helped organize the evening, so she had a legitimate reason to be there. I'd come because she'd asked me to help with the guest table. Helping Laurel was the easiest role I knew how to play. "I could introduce you," I said. "No." She glanced at me. "I don't want you managing my love life." I smiled. "I wasn't going to." "You were about to tell me you know the caterer's brother, who once dated the judge's assistant." "I wasn't." "You were thinking it." I had been. Laurel turned away, still smiling, and I noticed the man beside her at the drinks table. He had the same dark hair as Adrian, but longer at the crown, and a faint scar near his chin. His suit jacket hung over one arm. He was listening to an older woman tell a story while he held her empty plate and waited for a chance to clear it. The woman laughed. He smiled back, not like a man at a political reception but like someone who had heard a good story and wanted the teller to know it. "That's Noah," Laurel said, following my gaze. "Adrian's younger brother." "I know." "You just met him?" "No. I know who he is now." Her mouth tilted. "That was quick." I looked at her. "You said you weren't managing my love life." "I'm not. I'm observing it." I picked up my drink. "I'm going to introduce myself." "Wren." "What?" "Be normal." "I am normal." Laurel made a small doubtful sound, but I was already crossing the room. Noah's attention moved to me when I stopped near the table. Up close, he looked less like his brother than I'd expected. The resemblance was there in the shape of his eyes, but Noah's expression was open where Adrian's seemed carefully measured. "Hi," I said. "I'm Wren Bell. I helped organize the guest table." "Then I owe you a thank-you. The name tags are legible." He held out his hand. "Noah Hart." "I had no idea what people's handwriting would look like when I made them." "That's the difference between you and the person who designed the seating chart. I can't read my own name." I laughed. It came out too bright. He glanced at my glass. "Are you enjoying the cider?" "I haven't tried it." "Then I can't endorse it." "I like a man with strong convictions." "Especially about cider?" "Especially about things that matter." He smiled, and I felt the familiar little spark of success. I'd made him laugh. I'd made him look at me. A part of me, the old part, immediately wanted Laurel to see. That was when I noticed her watching us from beside the display case. She looked amused, and something in me straightened. "Would you like to get dinner sometime?" I asked. Noah's smile didn't disappear, but it changed. He glanced past me, toward Laurel, then looked back at my face. "Are you asking because you want to go out with me?" The question landed softly. It still hurt. I lifted my chin. "Yes." He didn't answer right away. I could hear the reception around us: glasses, voices, the low hum of a string quartet. My fingers tightened around the cider. "Then ask me again tomorrow," he said. "When this room isn't full of your sister's crush." Heat rose in my cheeks. "That's not what this is." "I hope not." He set the older woman's plate on the tray. "I'd rather be liked for myself." There was no cruelty in his voice, which made the answer harder to dismiss. I said, "Tomorrow, then." "If you still mean it." He walked away to return the plate. I stood beside the table with my untouched drink and watched Laurel approach. "Did you ask him out?" she said. "Yes." "Because he's Adrian's brother?" I should have said no. I should have said I'd noticed his smile, his patience, the way he made room for someone else's story. I'd noticed those things, but only after I'd chosen him. "I thought he was interesting," I said. Laurel's eyes searched mine. "That wasn't what I asked." I looked down at my cider. "I know." For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then Laurel touched my arm, a familiar gesture that used to make me feel safe. "I'll see you at home," she said. She left the reception without looking back. *****