“Very funny. Spit in it. It’s new gene technology. I don’t think I said that right.” She tapped her temple. “Maybe I should call it DNA Detective Work.”

Jules pushed back her long blonde hair. She had arrived from Seattle last night and had spent the night at Rose Bloom Cottage. She was in a tank top, so her tattoos were on full display, including my pink rose. She was wearing a number of necklaces and fabric/silver/gold bracelets up her arm. She always looked cool. Jules couldn’t not look cool. I, however, thought I looked cool enough if I could fit into my jeans and my flowing shirts were clean. “I don’t get it. Spit in it?”

“Yep. Think of it as spitting for genes. We’re going to send both tubes off to this lab and find out where our ancestors came from. Mom and the aunts have always said that Grandpa was Norwegian and English, mostly, they think, and their mom said she was French and Greek. Again, they think. Nothing’s for sure.”

“And Dad said he was Scottish and English. We’re mutts,” I said. “American mutts.”

“But let’s find out what kind of mutts. Mack and I want to see what our kids are going to be made of. He already sent his test off, so I’m late. We’re late. Spit away, sister!”

“So we spit and we can find out where our ancestors are from?”

“Yep. You got it.”

“Why do we both have to do it? We’re sisters. Won’t we be the same?”

“Nope. We won’t. Only identical twins have the same genetics.”

“Huh. But we’re both from Mom and Dad.”

“Right. But you get fifty percent of Dad’s genes and fifty percent of Mom’s genes. Same with me. You and I get different percentages from each parent. It’s like all the genes get shaken up in a genetic bottle and they spill out differently when the swimming sperm meets the innocent egg.”

“That would account for why you’re tall and blonde and have dark brown eyes and I’m black haired and somehow have gold eyes and I’m short and squat like a turnip with two pumpkins for a behind.”

“Uh, let’s rephrase, book nerd, and get the vegetables out of your language. You have magnetic gold eyes that everyone loves. You are short but you are not squat, and you have a figure that curves and men love. Anyhow, you might have more of the Greek blood because of your black hair, and I might have more of the Norwegian blood because I’m blonde. But maybe not. I might have more Greek blood and ended up blonde because of the other genetic ingredients. You could be the Norwegian Viking. I can totally see you in one of those steel bustiers holding a sword on a ship.”