Tribute

one of the sides, and they’ll be working on the back today. And if there was more help, we could get some of the primer on what’s been done. It’s my day off. I’m the more help.”
    She tugged at the leg of her baggy white painter’s pants. “Look. I have the outfit.”
    “As fetching as it is, I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
    Angie’s face turned from teasing to solemn. “Are you ever going to think of me as a sister?”
    “I do.” Fumbling, Cilla picked up her level. “Of course I do. I mean . . . we are sisters.”
    “If that’s true, then let me say: Shut up, and show me the paint.” Her smile went sly. “Or I’ll tell Dad you’re being mean to me.”
    Amusement came and went, but the quiet glow remained. “You’re a lot like him. The, ah, one who made us sisters.”
    “I have only his good qualities. You, on the other hand—”
    “The paint’s out in the barn. We can go out this way.” Cilla opened the back door. “Maybe I don’t like having a sister who’s younger than I am and has a cute little cheerleader body.”
    “Maybe I don’t like having a sister who has a yard of leg and miles of perfect hair. But I’ve got a better ass.”
    “You do not. My ass is famous.”
    “Yeah, you showed enough of it in Terror at Deep Lake .”
    “I did no ass work in that picture. I wore a bikini.” Holding back laughter, she stopped to pull out her keys, glanced over at the house. “Oh, damn it!”
    Turning to look, Angie gaped at the sight of her father, three stories up, standing on scaffolding, scraping away.
    “Dad! Get down from there!” They shouted it in unison. Gavin looked around, and down, then sent them a cheerful wave.
    “I told him not to go up there. No scaffolding, no extension ladders.”
    “He doesn’t listen, not when he’s decided to do something. He pretends to listen, then does what he was going to do anyway. Is it safe?” Angie asked, gripping Cilla’s arm. “I mean, it’s not going to fall over or collapse, is it?”
    “No. But . . .”
    “Then we’re not going to look. We’re going to get the paint. I’m going around to the front of the house, you’re going inside. Where we can’t see him up there. And we’re never, never going to tell my mother.”
    “Okay.” Cilla deliberately turned away, then stuck the key in the padlock on the barn.
    OLIVIA ROSE BREWSTER came into the world at 2:25 P.M.
    “Matt’s floating,” Ford told Cilla as they drove to the hospital. “Passing out bubble-gum cigars with this dopey smile on his face. The kid’s pretty cute, got all this black hair. Ethan was bald as my uncle Edgar, but the girl, she’s already got a headful.”
    “Uncle Ford seems pretty pleased, too.”
    “It’s a kick. It’s a pretty big kick. Josie looked pretty whipped when I saw her, right after.”
    “There’s a surprise. She should have looked camera ready after pushing eight pounds, five ounces out of her—”
    “Okay, okay. No need for details.” He hunted up a parking space in the hospital’s lot. “I talked with Matt while you were cleaning up. He said they’re both doing great.”
    “It’s nice to come back here for something happy.” She skimmed her gaze up to the Intensive Care floor.
    “Have you talked to Shanna since she got back?”
    “No, I haven’t.”
    “She had a great time.” Ford took Cilla’s hand as they crossed the lot. “She said Steve’s looking good. Put some of the weight back on he lost, got what she called a Roman gladiator ’do going on. He’s only using the cane when he gets tired.”
    Ford pulled open the heavy glass door.
    “I’ve been e-mailing him pictures of the house. I need to take some of the kitchen cabinets. Gift shop. Presents for Mommy and baby.”
    "I took her flowers already,” Ford objected, “and a big pink teddy bear.”
    “Eight pounds, five ounces out of her—”
    “Gift shop.”
    Loaded down with flowers, Mylar balloons, a plush musical lamb and a stack of coloring books for the new big brother, they walked into the birthing suite.
    Josie sat up in bed, in her arms the swaddled baby, a bright pink cap over her dark hair. Josie’s younger sister stood nearby, cooing over a tiny, frothy white dress, while Brian unwrapped a bubble-gum cigar and Matt snapped a picture of his wife and daughter.
    “More visitors!” Josie beamed. “Cilla, you just missed your dad and Patty.”
    “I came to see someone else.” She leaned over the bed. “Hello, Olivia.