When We Were Sisters. Emilie Richards

on the market, and no matter who moved in, things in the neighborhood would never be the same. Michael had already closed on a new town house in our school district, and he would probably be moved in by the time I returned. When I had gently questioned his haste, he’d claimed Channa was looking forward to the change, as well, but I wondered. At the conversation’s end he had offered me Talya’s dressing table. I hope he hasn’t banished everything that’s a reminder of the woman he and his daughter have lost. I’ll cherish the table and keep it for Channa, just in case.

      “Do you have any questions?” I asked. “About anything we went over?”

      “Mr. Lenhart knows I must pick up Raoul from day care at six-thirty? They will charge for every minute I’m late.”

      “If something does happen, you’ll bill him for those minutes, right?”

      “I will, but my time with Raoul is precious. I don’t want to miss any of it.”

      “Don’t forget, in an emergency you can call the women I’ve highlighted on my list.”

      She shook her head. “That will be Mr. Lenhart’s job.”

      I realized how far ahead of me she was. “You’re right. If he has an emergency, he can fix it. The list is just in case he doesn’t.”

      She smiled, showing pretty, even teeth, but I thought the smile said, he’d better.

      As if in emphasis, Elena glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry, but I need to leave in a few minutes.”

      Luckily Kris took that moment to walk out to the back deck, then down the steps toward us.

      I smiled at him when he reached us, but his was only for show. He’s still angry with me, and I try not to be reminded of my grandmother, whose anger destroyed my childhood. Luckily I’m an adult, and this time I haven’t lost the power of speech.

      I made the introduction, and Elena offered her hand. Kris’s smile was warmer when he focused it on her, as if he realized she wasn’t the culprit.

      “I hope you’ll enjoy working for us,” he said.

      “Miss Robin made a list of all your expectations, Mr. Lenhart.”

      “Call me Kris.”

      She smiled, but I knew that he would be Mr. Kris no matter what he told her. When I asked Elena to call me Robin, she’d told me that in Colombia, where she had lived for the first part of her life, there was a useful line between domestic help and employers, and she planned to observe it here. In turn I had told Nik and Pet to call her Miss Elena.

      “Do you have any questions for me?” he asked, as I had earlier.

      “I explained to Miss Robin I have to leave here at six, not a moment later.”

      “Pet and Nik should be fine for a little while if I’m not home right on time.”

      She was still smiling politely. “I can’t leave them without supervision. If there was a problem, I would blame myself.”

      Kris looked taken aback. “Could you just leave them for a few minutes while you fetch your son and bring him here?”

      “His day care is half an hour away.”

      He recovered. “I’ll do my best.”

      She examined him much the way I remember examining algae under my ninth grade microscope. “I’m sure your best is perfect.” She said goodbye and left to pick up her son. Kris watched her go.

      “You couldn’t find somebody more flexible?” he asked after she disappeared from sight.

      “Kris, if you really can’t get home on time, feel free to hire someone to come in when Elena leaves. But the other woman I interviewed refused to stay beyond five-thirty. I bought you an extra half hour to make it back from work.”

      “We’re paying her enough to make some exceptions.”

      “She has a life and a son.” I couldn’t help adding, “Sometimes there’s not enough money in the world to convince a parent anything in life is more important than their child.”

      “And apparently sometimes there is. You know, like a job you can’t say no to?” He let that rest a moment before he added. “So what about your life?”

      He had turned my salvo around and aimed it right at me. “Me? I’ve been busy setting everything up to make our transition as easy as possible. So I’d appreciate a moratorium on criticism. See how Elena does. If you’re not happy, feel free to make arrangements that suit you better.”

      “Are you packed and ready?”

      “I guess I was saying goodbye to the garden.”

      “It’s on its way out, isn’t it?”

      I wanted to stand here with Kris’s arms around me and start our goodbyes. I wanted us to forgive each other and move on. Distance in miles doesn’t have to mean emotional distance. I’m not leaving forever. But he was a yard away, arms folded against his chest. The signs were clear he didn’t want to move closer.

      “It’s on the way out. I’m glad I’ll be back in time to get it in shape for the spring.”

      “I wonder—would you have been as willing to go off with Cecilia if the garden was in full bloom?”

      I watched my windflowers dance in the breeze. “Please don’t make this opportunity sound like an extended vacation and shopping trip with my sister, okay? I’m jump-starting my career.”

      “You could do that right here.”

      “Which part of ‘this is important to me’ eludes you, Kris?”

      “How much of ‘you need to spend more time with your kids’ factors into your decision, Robin?”

      “You do need to. While they’re still around.”

      “Wouldn’t it have been simpler to just plan a family vacation?”

      I watched as he realized what he’d said. Without thinking he’d just thrown himself on a bomb that was about to scatter body parts to the four winds.

      “We did,” I said. “Just ask your parents how well that turned out.”

      * * *

      Pet’s room is painted a color our painter calls kimono purple, as luscious as a Concord grape. She has a fluffy white area rug and billowy curtains, and she collects metallic gold accessories. Picture frames, a spray-painted bamboo tray on top of her white dresser, a beige bedspread covered with gold and silver flowers pulled neatly over her trundle bed. She’s ten. I look forward to seeing her talent for design blossom, because the room is beautiful, and all the ideas were hers.

      Ida believes Pet’s artistic gift comes from Gus, who is far too modest to say so. Pet likes art classes, but right now her first love is set design. The theater camp she’s attended for several years recognized her talents this past summer and put her to work designing the Emerald City.

      When I went to say good-night—we no longer call this tucking in—my daughter was on her knees saying bedtime prayers. Kris’s mother is Catholic, and Kris attended Catholic school as a boy, Notre Dame as an undergraduate and finally Georgetown Law School. We were married in his family’s church and I converted afterward. I wanted us to attend church as a family, and we do. On Easter and Christmas Eve.

      At the moment Nik has no interest in religion, but Pet, whose given name, Petra, is a feminine version of Peter, takes religion seriously. She’s already talking about attending a Catholic high school in nearby Fairfax when the time comes.

      I waited until she crossed herself and got into bed before I went to perch on the edge beside her. I ask the same question every night. “Homework all done and everything ready for the morning?”

      “Who’s going to ask that when you’re not here?”

      “Well,