" Well, I don’t know about you girls,” Patti called out, “but I’m starving. You wanna help me throw everything together before I go check on the chicken?”
The twins shared uncertain expressions.
“Sure, we’ll help,” I answered for them. “What do you need us to do?”
“All right, how about you and Marna make the salad, and Ginger can help me bake this cake.”
Their eyes filled with horror.
“You mean like chopping things?” Marna whispered.
“Yeah. It’s not hard. We’ll do it together.” At my prompting they stood but made no move toward the kitchen with me.
“I’m not sure you ought to trust me with a knife,” Marna said.
“Or me with baked goods,” Ginger added. I’d never seen her so unsure of herself. If it were just me making the request, she’d tell me to go screw myself, but neither girl seemed to know how to act around Patti. They fidgeted and glanced at the kitchen.
Patti came over and took Ginger by the arm.
“You’ll both be fine,” Patti insisted. “It’ll be fun!”
The seriousness of the twins in the kitchen was comical. They took each step of their jobs with slow, attentive detail, checking and double-checking the measurements while Patti ran out to flip the chicken. Somewhere halfway through, the girls loosened up and we started chatting. Patti put Ginger at ease in a way I’d never seen her. At one point we were all laughing and I realized I’d never seen Ginger laugh in a carefree way, only the mean kind of amusement brought on at someone else’s expense. Usually mine. Ginger caught me looking and straightened, smile disappearing. Patti watched with her keen, wise eyes. She wasn’t missing the significance of any gesture here.
When she returned from getting the chicken off the grill, Ginger said, “Oh, that smells divine, Miss Patti.”
Who was this complimenting girl? Patti smiled and thanked her.
Ginger was so proud of the cake when it was finished that she took several pictures of it with her phone. She even wanted a picture of her and Patti holding the cake together, which nearly made Patti burst with motherly affection. I couldn’t even manage to feel jealous as Patti heaped nurture on Ginger. It was so sweet it made my eyes sting. Marna kept sending fond glances at her sister.
“I did that part right there all by myself,” Ginger said to Marna, pointing to the frosting trim. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”
“Bang-up job, Gin.” Marna squeezed her sister around the shoulder. "
― Wendy Higgins , Sweet Peril (Sweet, #2)