"Well, you're a big person," I said without thinking. "Not that you're fat. Obviously, you're not." I focused on placing the avocado in neat slices across the meat to disguise my awkwardness. Nobody in my life was double my size, but pointing it out felt rude. "You don't have to eat it all."
"I won't leave a crumb."
I looked up at him. Manning sat still, just watching as I built his sandwich. We exchanged a smile right before Tiffany came in, set the sodas down, and reached across the island to pluck some avocado from the sandwich. "Are you from here, Manning?" she asked, taking the seat next to him.
With a frown, I took a fresh avocado from the fruit basket. Tiffany never made her own food, so she didn't respect the art of presentation.
I cut into the gnarly skin as Manning eyed the knife in my hand. "Want me to do that?" he asked.
"I do it all the time."
"Los Angeles area," he answered Tiffany.
"Really?" she pressed.
"Sort of. Pasadena."
"Do you have family here?"
"No."
I pretended to mind my own business. It hadn't crossed my mind to ask where he was from. I placed a slice of sourdough bread on top of the sandwich, cut it down the middle, and admired my work. In two halves, the sandwich nearly toppled over.
"You might not be able to hear it, but my stomach's grumbling," Manning said.
Tiffany giggled.
"Almost done." I took a jar of pickles from the fridge, gripped the lid, and twisted. Nothing happened. I flexed my hand and tried again, putting more muscle behind it. The top didn't budge.
"So no girlfriend and no family. Why Orange County? When did you move here?"
Manning took the jar from me, popped it open, and handed it back. "When I turned eighteen. I like the weather."
"I loosened it for you," I said as I concentrated on selecting the best pickle in the jar.
"I know," he said.
"What do you like to do for fun?" Tiffany asked.
"What d'you mean?" Manning cracked his neck, his eyes conspicuously on the sandwich, as if it might grow legs and make a run for it.
"You're annoying him," I said to Tiffany.
"I'm annoying him?" she shot back. "What do you know about anything, Lake?"
I ignored her. For some reason, making Manning's food had made me brave. Invincible. I had something he wanted. Once I was happy with the placement and position of everything on the plate, I slid it across the counter.
Manning grabbed the sandwich and dug in.
I watched, rapt, as he finished half in four bites.
After swallowing, he took one long swig of soda, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He must've downed half of it. "This is the best sandwich I've ever had."
The way I grinned, I probably looked like an idiot, but I didn't even care.
"I told you she makes a good sandwich." Tiffany leaned over and bumped her shoulder against Manning's. "Didn't I tell you?"
Manning nodded and wiped his mouth on his shoulder sleeve. I handed him a paper towel.
"Are you in college?" Tiffany asked.
I couldn't believe she was so brazen-touching him like he belonged to her. Asking him personal questions. I'd put up with my sister for sixteen years, but suddenly I found her unbearably obnoxious. "Are you?" I asked.
"Shut up, Lake. Why don't you go play with your dolls?"
My face heated. Manning looked between both of us as he chewed.
"I don't play with dolls," I told him.
"You have stuffed animals on your bed," Tiffany said. "You're like a five-year-old-"
"No, I'm not," I said in a panic. I didn't need Manning thinking I was any more childish than he probably already did. "Mom put those there. I don't even like them."
"Just go away already," Tiffany said.
Manning chewed his food calmly, but when he spoke, his words were sharp, delivered in a level, deep voice that left no room for argument. "I told you before, don't talk to your sister like that."
We both shut our mouths, but Tiffany glared at me. I felt it, even when I looked away.
"You must not have siblings," Tiffany said airily, glancing sideways at him. "We fight like that all the time. It doesn't mean anything."
"He has a sister," I said, excited to be in possession of information Tiffany wasn't.
"Is she in L.A.?" Tiffany asked, giving me her shoulder to face Manning.
"No." He wiped his mouth with the paper towel and finished off his soda. His plate was empty. "I should get back to work."
My heart dropped into my stomach. It was over already? I wasn't ready to say goodbye. "Do you want another sandwich?"
He stood and rubbed his stomach. "I don't want to say no, but no. Thanks, though."
"Okay." I shifted on my feet. "Need some help out there?"
He raised his brows at me. Again, I noticed the flecks in his eyes, as if they were sparkling. "What are you gonna do?" he teased. "You can't even lift most of the tools out there, forget the materials."
I basked in the glow of his rare playfulness.
Tiffany followed as he left the kitchen. I went to a window at the front of the house. Manning stood at the end of the drive with her. I willed him to acknowledge me. I was greedy. I'd spent a lot of time with him today, but I wanted more.
He didn't look up, though. Instead, he said something to Tiffany.
Whatever it was, it made her smile.
3
Lake
Just because my dad wasn't necessarily a large man didn't mean he wasn't scary. Chief operating officer at a pharmaceutical company, he was second-in-command at work and had final say on all things concerning the Kaplan family here at home.
That worked okay for my mom and me. Mom knew how to manage his temperaments, sometimes with just a simple word or gesture. She said he had a sense of humor that most people didn't get. And I just did what he said. He was my dad. He knew better than I did.
Tiffany was a different story. That night, after I'd helped Mom clear the dinner table, I passed by his study on my way to my room. It wasn't unusual for me to hear them arguing in there, but the mention of my name made me stop.
"Lake deserves a night off," Tiffany was saying. "More than that. She's been doing schoolwork all summer."
"I don't expect you to understand the value of hard work," he said calmly. "But your sister does. Don't interfere."
"One night at the Fun Zone is hardly interfering," she said.
Over dinner, Tiffany had mentioned she was taking me to the fair that weekend. Dad had shut it down, worried I was losing focus because I was still reading The Grapes of Wrath after two weeks.
After a weighty silence, my dad said, "Do you think I'm stupid, Tiffany? You honestly expect me to believe you want to spend a Saturday night playing arcade games with your little sister?"
"Yes," she said. Tiffany acted tough most of the time, but I heard the hurt in her voice.
"God only knows what you really have planned. Probably some unsupervised party at one of your degenerate friends' houses. The answer is no."
I frowned. Tiffany didn't have to be in there sticking up for me. She was telling the truth after all.
"She couldn't possibly be a better student, so why can't she have fun, too?" Tiffany asked. "I swear, we'll go right to Balboa and come home."
"I don't believe you. And I tell you something, if I'd ever lied to my father, I would've gotten a beating for it."
"Go ahead, then. Beat me."
With a gasp, I put my hand on the doorknob to intervene. Fear made me hesitate. I rarely stood up to my dad. I wasn't even sure how he'd take it if I did.
"Don't be ridiculous," he responded. "Your mother and I have never lain a hand on you. In fact, we let you do whatever the hell you want. All I'm asking is that you leave your sister alone. She's on track to get everything she wants, and I'll kick you out of this house before I let you drag her down."
"You're such a jerk," Tiffany said. "All you care about is Lake. If I left tomorrow, you wouldn't even notice."
"I certainly would, but you won't. You need money and a job to move out. That shouldn't be too hard, or so one would think."
My heart beat double-time. I didn't want Tiffany to leave. She could be difficult, yes, but I liked knowing she was in the next room. I knew no matter what, if I really truly needed her, she'd be there.
I jumped back as Tiffany blew out of the study and upstairs. After a few seconds, her door slammed. I wasn't sure what to do-comfort her or keep my distance.
Mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Everything all right?"