We left them alone to read and went into the kitchen for tea.

“How’s he doing?” I asked.

“I have to remind him hourly that eating right and exercising are a lot better than the alternative.”

I spoke without thinking. “Boy, I bet he loves that.”

She didn’t glare exactly, but I felt the chill in her stare.

“Sorry.” I sat at the table and reached for a cookie while she poured the iced tea. She knew how I liked it and added the sugar and lemon before she set it in front of me.

“Your father was always your favorite.”

I nearly choked. I swallowed and grabbed my tea for a big slug.

“Well, he was,” she said.

“You’re obviously exhausted.”

“Because I’m telling the truth?”

“Because you’re talking about feelings. That’s not like you.”

“This is getting worse by the moment.”

I touched her hand, which had stalled on the way to the cookies. “Isn’t the absent parent usually something of a favorite because he’s not there to be the disciplinarian? That probably happens with Bryce and Wendy. She does the majority of childcare, and he waltzes in with gifts from faraway ports.”

I lifted my hand, since I’d probably gone past our touching limit. “The girls miss Bryce. And Dad was away so much I missed him, too. But I could always count on you to be right here when I needed you.”

“You think I’m controlling.”

“You aren’t?”

She blew out a breath. “You did not receive the gift of diplomacy.”

“Wendy got enough for both of us. I’m compelled to tell it like it is. Where did I get that, do you think?”

I thought she was trying not to smile. “I just try to make sure things go the way they’re supposed to.”

Maybe I’m not particularly diplomatic—after all, I’m a journalist—but I don’t say everything I think. A discussion of “supposed to” would have been fruitless. I settled on another piece of the truth.

“Mom, you never have to worry about how invaluable you are.”

“If I was invaluable, Wendy would have called me. Have you heard from her since we spoke?”

I didn’t mention the burner phone. “She called this morning. But she’s still refusing to say exactly what happened. And there’s no talk of a homecoming.”

“That’s it? That’s all she said? You didn’t try hard enough. If you had, we’d know more!”

I drank more tea, trying hard to tamp down my anger. I finally set my glass on the table. “I know you think I don’t try hard enough, or that I don’t measure up to my sister, who always did, but this time you’re going to have to trust me. I’m taking good care of Wendy’s kids, and I’m doing absolutely everything I can to get her back home.”

“I’ve never told you that you don’t measure up. I just wanted you to do your best. In school. In men. In sports. You never tried to win.” She’d cleverly sandwiched men in the middle.