The Oleander Sisters. Elaine Hussey

      “Please, Sis! He’s going to be my husband!”

      Sis went very still, collecting her rage the way the air collects turbulence right before a tornado rips through. If you didn’t know Sis, you’d tremble in your shoes; you’d expect her to tear into you any minute and try to straighten you out. But Emily saw with a sister’s heart. She watched Sis rein in her feelings and bury them so deep not a glimmer was left behind.

      Sis dumped the ice cubes back into the sink, easy now in her movements and her posture.

      “All right. I’ll behave.”

      “Oh, Sis! I knew you would.”

      “But that doesn’t mean I like it, Em.”

      “I know.”

      “I don’t like this man and I don’t like the idea of you marrying him. But we’ll get through the evening. Now I’m going to clean up and then warn Sweet Mama and Beulah.”

      “Warn?”

      “Tell. Is that better?”

      “Much.”

      “Em, I want you to think about the way Larry acted over something as simple as coming here for dinner. If he’s this controlling now, what will he be like after the wedding?”

      “Sis, don’t start on Larry again.”

      “I’m not starting on Larry. Just promise me you’ll think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

      “I promise.”

      “Okay, then. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

      Sis left the kitchen while the conversation with Larry burned through Emily. Not even the endearment he’d used to say goodbye could erase the sense that she’d headed out to pick a basketful of ripe strawberries and ended up in a tangle of briars. She bent over the sink to splash cool water on her hot face, then stood with water dripping down her chin, simply stood there staring into space.

      Sis’s footsteps echoed on the wooden floors upstairs. She’d be going about her business, getting cleaned up for dinner. From the direction of the hall closet came sounds of Andy’s rambunctious search, probably for one of Sis’s old balls and her baseball bat. Out on the porch, her grandmother and Beulah would be drinking sweet tea from tall, cool glasses, blissfully unaware of the little storm that had swept through the kitchen.

      After a little while, Emily shook herself like a woman coming out of a bad dream, then searched the pantry till she found an apron. She wasn’t going to let this little setback spoil the evening. It was going to be great, maybe even wonderful, that’s all. She wouldn’t have it any other way. Her brother needed wonderful, and right this minute, so did she.

      * * *

      Upstairs Sis washed the dirt off and changed into fresh slacks and a clean black T-shirt, but there was nothing she could do to erase the awful way Emily had looked during her phone conversation with Larry. He’d crushed her with the ease and carelessness of someone smashing a butterfly.

      She thought about knocking on Jim’s door and relating the incident to him, but he might be getting dressed, and besides, he was too hurt from his own wounds to be burdened with Sis’s dark opinions.

      She headed back downstairs to warn Sweet Mama and Beulah. They were both in rocking chairs on the porch, swaying gently to the ebb and flow of their conversation. Sis stood in the doorway a moment, the rhythm of their words running through her like a beloved song. No matter what was going on in the world around her, Sis could hear their voices and feel herself being tethered to this place she called home. She allowed herself the luxury of soaking up that comfort a moment longer, and then she pushed away and marched across the wooden porch.

      “Guess who’s coming to dinner?” she said.

      “If you fixing to tell me you bringing Sidney Poitier, I’m gonna get all gussied up.” Beulah chuckled, and after a heartbreaking lag, Sweet Mama joined her.

      They both loved Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner. When it had first come out two years ago, they’d planned the theater outing as if they were going on an overnight trip to the Peabody Hotel in Memphis.

      “I hate to disappoint you, Beulah. It’s not Sidney. It’s Larry Chastain.”

      “Who?” Sweet Mama said, and Sis leaned down to put a hand on her shoulder.

      “Emily’s fiancé. Remember?”

      “Of course I do. What do you think I am? Senile?” Sweet Mama eased out of her rocker, one blue-veined hand clutching the armrest to steady herself. “Come on, Beulah. If company’s coming, we’re eating in the dining room and using the good silver.”

      “I ain’t sure that man’s worth no good silver, Lucy.”

      “I’ll be the judge of that.”

      “Ain’t you always the judge?” Beulah winked at Sis, then took a hold of Sweet Mama’s arm and led her back into the house. Sis would have followed them, but she knew they’d shoo her out of the way. She was useless around crockery and cutlery. She always ended up breaking or spilling something, and in general making a big mess that had to be cleaned up. She knew her place, and it certainly wasn’t in the kitchen.

      She leaned against a porch column and shaded her eyes, looking for signs of her future brother-in-law. She wanted to be the first to see him, to talk to him before Emily came out all flushed, trying to act as if Larry hadn’t already spoiled her evening.

      Sis flicked a speck of dust off the front of her shirt, harder than necessary, so hard in fact, that she ended up feeling the sting of her own slap.

      His car came upon her suddenly, turning into the driveway before she had decided what she was going to say to him. Let him off the hook completely? Pretend she didn’t know he’d acted an ass about dinner? Emily would be pleased if she kept quiet, but Sis might just choke on her own bile.

      “Sis! Don’t you look a vision?” Larry strode up the front steps with the confidence of a smooth-talking, handsome man used to turning heads. Before she knew what was happening, he was bent over her hand, kissing it, and she found herself staring at the too-straight part slicing through his black hair.

      “A nightmare is more like it,” she said.

      Larry didn’t respond to her self-deprecating comment. Instead, he let go of her hand, thank God, and looked out over the Gulf.

      “You have a beautiful view. No wonder Emily loves this place.”

      “She does, but then Emily loves almost everything and everybody.”

      “Lucky me. I finally found a woman who could look beyond my flaws and see a hero.”

      “Emily’s a sweet, trusting woman, Larry. And easily hurt.”

      “She’s the woman of every man’s dreams.”

      “Yes, she is. I’m glad you know how lucky you are to have her.”

      “Luck had nothing to do with it.” Suddenly, Larry puffed up with such self-importance Sis thought he’d levitate right off the front porch. “A salesman learns to read people. When I saw your sister, I read her like a book.”

      “And what did that book say?” If he noticed her sarcasm, he didn’t show a sign.

      “‘I’m a woman you can keep barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen.’”

      He laughed at his own Dark Ages attitude, and Sis wanted to slap him off the porch. Emily saved him, rushing out pink-faced and smiling, the only sign of her nervousness showing in the way she wadded a corner of her blue gingham apron into a tight fist.

      “Larry! I’m so glad you’re here.” She rushed over to hug him, and he winked over her shoulder at Sis.

      Did that jackass dare to think they were coconspirators? Or was