The next week at the Bar Harbor Airport, Kristine’s phone buzzed in the airport security bucket. Bella, busy removing her belt and shoes, lifted her eyes to catch the name across the screen: CARTER.
“Aw.” Bella wagged her eyebrows as she slid the rest of her items through the scanner.
Kristine’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “He’s pretty good at texting. I’ll give him that.”
“What about kissing?” Bella asked, stepping into the full-body scanner, where she stopped, lifted her arms, and spread her feet apart.
“Good grief.”
Kristine followed after her, imitating her. Soon after, they were busy shoving their feet back into their boots and wiggling their laptops back into their backpacks. Around them, other travelers put back on their coats and corralled toddlers, aware that once given a chance at freedom, the toddlers would take it.
“Let’s get a cup of coffee,” Bella said, adjusting her ponytail before she strung her backpack over her shoulder. “You can tell me more about kissing Carter.”
“Bella…” Kristine warned, scampering after her. Their flight was set to leave in a little more than an hour, which gave them enough time for a coffee and a chat. The topic at hand, of course, was Kristine’s third date with Carter of the week.
The problem was Kristine wasn’t sure how to talk about it. When she was with Carter, she felt head-over-heels for him, quick to laugh and quick to tease. The kissing was transcendent, the kind that made her weak in the knees. During each date, she’d forgotten herself, her body, and her sense of time.
Then again, Carter had never been a part of Kristine’s plan. For years, Kristine had made every decision with her career and future in mind. Patrick had fit so beautifully into that mold. Carter, on the other hand, was a tree guy, a part-time mechanic, a part-time construction worker, and, most importantly, the only guardian for his little brother. Why would Kristine, who’d graduated so high in her university business class, settle for a simple life in Bar Harbor with Carter? It didn’t make sense.
“Come on. Out with it.” Bella sipped her coffee, her eyes narrowed. “There’s something going on.”
Kristine shrugged, her eyes far down the concourse, where a young couple kissed as though they would never see each other again.
“I can tell you like him. Like, really like him,” Bella continued.
“I do.” Kristine answered without thought.
“Then why the hesitation?” Bella demanded.
Kristine stuttered, at a loss. “I’m just having fun, Bella.”
Bella didn’t look convinced. “You’ve never ‘just had fun’ your entire life.”
“That’s mean.”
“It’s true,” Bella returned, not unkindly.
“Maybe I’m learning to have fun,” Kristine tried. “Maybe that’s part of this trip to Bar Harbor.”
“Yeah. You got a job after three days,” Bella shot back.
“And I got fired,” Kristine returned. “Because I was outside, having fun with you.” She stuck out her tongue playfully, trying to get her sister off her back.
“All I’m saying is, Carter seems good for you,” Bella continued. “Why won’t you give me the juicy details? The kissing? The adorable things he’s told you?”
Kristine was surprised at herself for not sharing this with her twin. There was something sacred about the way Carter had cupped both of her hands in his and whispered, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before.” There was something personal, something she wanted to keep for herself, about the way he’d pressed his lips against her temple and told her he would keep her safe on their snowmobile ride.
Bella and Kristine weren’t seated next to each other on the plane, which gave Kristine a break. As other passengers got on the plane and shoved their bags in the overhead compartments, she scanned the internet for news about Patrick and Richard’s sexual harassment lawsuits. All she found was the fact that the woman who’d sued them was “having trouble getting interviews in the business world.” Kristine closed her eyes. What kind of world was this? Women had no say in how they were treated.
Kristine had mentioned the story of the sexual harassment to Carter without telling him her ex was involved. At this, all the blood had drained from Carter’s cheeks. “Around here, we’re raised to know that women are just about twice as intelligent as men and much more organized.” Kristine had laughed through tears at this, marveling at the goodness of this man.
At JFK Airport, Kristine and Bella waited for over an hour before Bella’s paintings were released from under the plane. She’d packed them in a massive box with plenty of padding, which had cost an arm and a leg to bring with them. “There they are,” Bella breathed, sliding her hand over the cardboard. The rest of the paintings were back at Bella’s studio, which they planned to pick up that evening. The next two days would be filled with hanging paintings and preparing the gallery space for the big night. Friends had already hung hundreds of posters to advertise the event, and Bella expected a decent turn-out. She’d even priced some of her paintings in the thousands of dollars— a rate Kristine thought to be overwhelmingly large. She would never understand art.
Kristine had been nervous about returning to New York City. She’d run out of there seeing red, terrified of what the “evil” city would continue to do to her. It had taken her boyfriend and her career; what was next? Once back in Brooklyn again, however, Kristine opened her arms to the city, grateful to see old sights and reconnect with who she’d been before. After they dropped off the paintings at the gallery space, they met friends from college for dim sum and talked about all the gossip they’d missed since they’d retreated to Bar Harbor.
“Everyone is calling Bar Harbor your ‘winter retreat,’” their friend, Claire, told them. “It sounds so exotic.”
Kristine laughed, but Bella took it seriously.
“I’ve gotten so much done up there,” she said. “I couldn’t have finished my art show without it. For a couple of days, I was literally trapped in our house due to a snowstorm, painting myself to death.”
Claire blinked, impressed. “You should bring me next time. Maybe I would finally finish my novel.”
“Kristine’s going back next week,” Bella pointed out.
Kristine’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Claire eyed her curiously.
“Still no return for our Kristine?” Claire asked.
Kristine stuttered and sipped her wine. “I’m helping out our aunt. She was in a coma for all of January, and she still can’t walk properly or do much around the house.”
Claire stiffened. “Aren’t there nurses for that?”
“I adore my aunt,” Kristine said, suddenly angry at Claire for suggesting it. “We watch old romantic comedies and talk about life. I wouldn’t want her to be stuck with someone who doesn’t really care about her.”
“And Kristine has such a big heart which makes her the perfect caregiver,” Bella affirmed, her eyes glowing with love for her sister. “It’s hard to believe she belongs to the cut-throat business world.”
“Ha.” Kristine took another sip of wine.
That night, back in the cozy and very small apartment the twins shared, Kristine collapsed on her bed and read over the texts Carter had sent.
CARTER: Have a great time in the city!
CARTER: Maybe one day, you can show me around.
CARTER: Oh, by the way. We’re going to have a little party at my place next week. Cindy and Jeff really want you to come (I think they like you better than me). I hope you can make it!
Kristine’s heart burned with a mix of emotions. A party in Bar Harbor? That probably meant drinking domestic beers, eating chili, and playing cards. It wasn’t that she was against those kinds of parties; it was just a very different scene than her usual one.
Wasn’t she supposed to be in New York City, eating dim sum, going to gallery shows, and dating men with big dreams?
Out in the living room, Bella greeted Florian excitedly. “You brought wine!”
Kristine fell back on her pillow, her heart aching. The feelings she had for Carter were impossible to ignore. But why couldn’t she have what her sister had? Bella and Floridan were artists and city people. That was supposed to be Kristine’s world, too.
Kristine began to text a reply to Carter, but soon deleted it. She felt inarticulate and sleepy. She would text him in the morning, maybe send him a picture of a bagel or a Brooklyn street. He wanted the best for her; he genuinely adored her. Maybe she could find a way to give in.
On the afternoon before Bella’s art show, Heather and Luke met Kristine, Bella, and Florian at a little Mexican restaurant a few blocks south of the gallery space. Kristine, Bella, and Heather were dressed immaculately, each in tall boots, their long black hair shining. Like always, they lined up against a red brick wall and had their pictures taken with Heather in the middle. People passing by stopped to say, “Wow. You look like triplets!” All three laughed, grateful for the compliment that they’d heard a thousand times before.
Florian was very charming. He made Heather laugh and teased Bella lightly, his arm around her waist. Luke was impressed with him and asked him a number of questions about his life in New York City. All the while, Kristine felt strange and out of place, crunching tortilla chips and looking out the window. A masochistic part of her wanted Patrick to walk by, maybe with a girl beside him. She wanted to learn how to dislike him even more.
Bella’s paintings hung around the well-lit gallery space, illustrating Bella’s chaotic creativity and clear sense of self. Kristine and Heather walked from painting to painting, commenting on each quietly as other New York art-people stepped around them, looking at price tags. Several feet away, Bella was in her element, chatting up art journalists and giving answers that sounded both intelligent and humble at the same time. Florian watched her, beaming with pride.
“She’s really something,” Kristine said to her mother. There was a clear edge of jealousy to her voice.
“She is.” Heather’s eyes flashed. “But so are you.”
“Tonight isn’t about me,” Kristine pointed out as she moved to the next painting, which looked a lot like a blob fighting a triangle.
“No, but another night will be.” Heather squeezed Kristine’s upper arm. “How has it been to be back?”
“It’s been fun,” Kristine answered. “Maybe even too much fun. I can’t help but think I’m missing out on something.”
Heather nodded. “Nobody is keeping you in Bar Harbor, you know.”
“I need to be there for Kim.”
“Jennifer and I can handle that.”
Kristine furrowed her brow. “What I mean is, I want to be there for Kim. I think the time together has been good for both of us. Good for me, anyway.”
Kristine couldn’t admit how wonderful it was to be needed in a concrete way. Kim needed help around the house, to clean her bathroom, to cook her dinner, and the get into bed. Kristine was grateful to feel necessary. It filled up her heart to the brim.
“Just keep tabs on yourself and what you really want,” Heather breathed.
Kristine wanted to laugh. How could anyone really know what they wanted? Instead, she said, “Thank you, Mom,” and she wrapped her arms around Heather, willing herself not to cry.
A bit later, a text came through from Carter. Kristine had written him that morning, unsure if she’d wanted to.
CARTER: Hey! I know you’re busy. Just let me know when you’re back in town. :)
Kristine’s heart dropped into her stomach. When she lifted her eyes, she found a handsome and familiar face in the crowd. It was Roger, a guy she’d known back in business school. She waved him down, and he hugged her, saying, “Wow! I thought you’d skipped town.”
“I couldn’t miss Bella’s big night.”
“Of course.” Roger sipped his wine and smiled wider. “I heard you got out of Richard’s clutches just in time.”
Kristine wrinkled her nose. “He wasn’t exactly the greatest boss.”
“No. I wouldn’t think so. Brilliant man, though.”
Kristine’s heart hardened. What about a sexual harasser and all-around bully was “brilliant” exactly?
“What are you up to?” Kristine asked him instead.
Roger told her he’d just been promoted in his company, that he was making six figures and thinking about renting a new apartment in Greenwich Village. The conversation made Kristine feel three inches tall. When he added that he and his girlfriend had just gotten engaged on the Greek island of Santorini, she nearly shattered the wine glass in her hand.
“That’s such great news,” she heard herself say, concentrating hard on keeping it together. “I’m so happy for you both.”