Norah smiled at Kate and winked. Norah drew stares wherever she went, and yet she pretended she didn’t notice. It was her beauty, yes—with her long, dark hair and almost six-foot height, with her eyes so dark they appeared mystical—but the stares were mostly a result of gazes being drawn to Norah’s face where, at birth, a pair of forceps had gashed her left eye, leaving a dip and scar that made it appear as if Norah had wept enough to form a half-inch-long furrow into her cheek. Norah was told many times that there were methods and lasers and surgeries that could fix this, but she shrugged and nodded. “Yep, that might be a good idea one day.” Yet one day never seemed to matter to Norah. Only that day, the day she was living, that was important.

“So, we’re here to pick out your outfit for the evening,” Tara said, her cheeks puckering inward as she took a long draw of her coffee, which she always desperately needed what with a ten, a four, and a two year old under her feet and in her hair and in her bed (her words exactly).

Kate laughed. “No way. I’ve got that under control. We’re going out to lunch and that’s it.”

Molly moaned. “Come on, Kitty-Kat. Let’s do something funner than that today.”

“Funner is not a word, Molly.” Kate kissed her baby sister, who wasn’t a baby at all but twenty-seven years old, on the forehead.

“Then let’s go do something that is memorable and silly instead.” Molly held out her hands. “I say kayaking out to Goat Island and drinking moonshine until dusk.”

Their joined laughter was a sacred sound. Kate shook her head. “I’m all in on the kayak, but since I want to appear vaguely human to the Irving family, I’ll skip the moonshine.”

The front door to the boutique was open, propped by a concrete garden statue of a little girl holding out her skirts. Birds called and the breeze rattled in the palmetto fronds sounding like blessed rain. “God, I love spring,” Tara said as she stood. “It’s like anything, almost anything at all could happen.” She held her arms out wide, coffee cup still in hand as a permanent appendage.

Norah glanced at Kate, who attempted to smile back. Yes, anything could happen and mostly had.

“Where are the kids today?” Kate asked.

“Dearest hubby took the day off. He knew I wanted to spend it with you,” Tara said.

“It wasn’t necessary, but thanks,” Kate said and hugged her sister with one arm, keeping the full force of the day’s meaning close and distant in a dance of opposites.

“Let’s go then,” Molly jumped off her stool.

“I wish you could go,” Kate said to Norah.

“I almost asked Charlie to cover for me.” Norah smiled.