Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
DIXIE
I took a deep breath and balanced the plate of cookies in one hand while knocking on my parents’ front door with the other. Frankie had arrived ahead of me, her shiny BMW parked perfectly in the driveway. A moment later, my mom opened the door, her bright smile faltering only slightly when she saw me.
“Hi, Dixie,” she said, pulling me in for a quick hug. Her eyes darted to the plate I was holding. “Cookies again? You spoil us.”
“Thought you’d like them,” I mumbled, stepping inside.
“Of course,” Mom said. “We always love your cookies. I bet you could have been a world-class chef.”
I forced a smile, ignoring the retort that was on the tip of my tongue. It was just another reminder of my failure to please them with my life choices. A chef was obviously a more prestigious job than a lowly furniture restorer.
Frankie was already in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand, chatting animatedly with Dad about her day. She looked radiant, as always, her tailored dress and immaculate hair putting my jeans and sweater to shame. I set the cookies on the counter and slid into a chair, already bracing myself for the onslaught of news I knew was coming.
And sure enough, Frankie didn’t disappoint. She always had news that made my parents proud.
“So!” she began, her voice bubbling with excitement. “I have big news! First, I got the promotion.”
“Oh, honey, that’s wonderful!” Mom exclaimed, clasping her hands together.
“And a raise,” Frankie added, pausing just long enough to savor their reactions. “And… I signed the lease on that apartment I told you about. I move in next month.”
Dad beamed. “That’s fantastic, sweetheart. You’ve been working so hard—you deserve this.”
“Oh, and one more thing.” Frankie’s grin widened. “I’ve been seeing someone for a couple of months now, and it’s starting to get serious.”
“Really?” Mom leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “Tell us everything!”
Frankie laughed. “Not yet. But soon. I want to make sure it’s the right time before introducing him.”
Mom nodded understandingly, her gaze lingering on Frankie with pride and love. “Whenever you’re ready, dear.”
“This is the first guy I’ve even let myself get close to after that disaster two years ago,” Frankie said. “I thought for sure my heart was shattered and I would never want to date again, but I guess I’m ready to move on.”
I watched the scene unfold, munching on a cookie. The contrast between my sister’s achievements and my own, less conventional path was stark.
They fawned over her like she’d just announced her engagement, while I quietly stuffed a second cookie into my mouth, the buttery sweetness doing little to mask the pang of jealousy creeping in. I loved Frankie—I really did—but sometimes it felt like living in her shadow was my permanent state of being. I was the oldest yet it felt like she was light years ahead of me. Her life was constantly on an upward trajectory and mine was falling apart at the seams.
“Dixie, help me set the table,” Mom said.
“Of course.”
Mom had made her famous pot roast. The smell of it made my stomach growl. We all sat down at the table and dished up. I was hoping to get through the rest of the evening without disappointing them. Unfortunately, it seemed like me being me was plenty disappointing.
“How’s work, Dixie?” Mom asked. Her voice was just a little higher than usual. She only talked like that when she was irritated. “Are your pieces selling? Staying busy?”
“It’s going well,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I’ve been working on a new collection.”
“That’s nice,” Dad said, though his tone lacked the enthusiasm he’d shown for Frankie’s news. “And your apartment? Still holding up?”
“My apartment is fine,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Actually, everything’s good. I, uh, I met someone, too.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them, but I refused to take them back. Frankie’s head whipped around, her face lighting up.
“Wait, really? Who? Is it that Paul guy you mentioned the other day? I take it the visit to my salon had the desired effect?”
I almost choked on my pot roast. “Yes,” I said and shot her a dirty look.
Mom looked at me. Not me. My hair. “Did you do something different with your hair?”
“Just a trim,” I said quickly.
“Tell us about this man,” Dad said.
“His name is Paul.”
Frankie practically bounced in her seat. “Tell me everything!”
“He’s… great,” I said, my cheeks heating up. “We went mini golfing and to an arcade on our last date. It was a lot of fun. Being around him is just so easy. I felt like we could talk about anything, even though it was only our second date. He’s charming, confident, chivalrous, and?—”
“An arcade?” Mom interrupted, her brow furrowing. “Isn’t that a bit childish for a date?”
I swallowed hard, my excitement deflating. “It was fun,” I said firmly. “We wanted to have fun. I can have dinner with anyone. There are few guys that would be happy hanging out and playing silly games.”
Frankie chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “That does sound like a blast,” she conceded, throwing me a supportive smile. “Sometimes you need a little fun to shake things up.”
Dad nodded. “Well, as long as you’re happy, Dixie,” he said.
Mom still looked skeptical, but she managed a smile. “It’s good that you found someone who makes you happy,” she said. “That’s what matters.”
The rest of the meal was an exercise in restraint as I found myself defending Paul to my parents. Every compliment I gave was met with a skeptical comment or a dismissive shrug. By the end of it, I felt small, like no matter what I did, I’d never measure up to Frankie’s perfect life.
“So, tell me more about Paul,” Mom said, leaning forward. “What does he do?”
I hesitated. I knew Hayes ran a nonprofit, but I wasn’t entirely sure of the specifics. “He works with his brothers,” I said carefully. “They run some kind of addiction recovery organization.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Addiction recovery? That sounds… interesting.”
“It’s meaningful work,” I said defensively. “Helping people rebuild their lives.”
Frankie jumped in. “That sounds noble. What kind of background does he have?”
I scrambled. “He’s from Canada originally. Vancouver. His family is… well, they’re pretty established.”
“Established how?” Mom asked, her tone sharp.
“Business people,” I said vaguely. “Philanthropic.”
“And how did you meet?” Dad asked.
“At a party,” I said. “Pamela. Do you remember her from high school? She hosted a housewarming party. She introduced us.”
It wasn’t a total lie. Because if I was referring to Hayes as Paul, Pamela did introduce me to Paul.
“Oh, Pamela,” Mom said. “She married well, didn’t she? Her mother did tell me they bought a beautiful townhouse uptown.”
I nodded, feeling that familiar ache of inadequacy. Pamela had always been perfect—straight-A student, successful career, picture-perfect marriage. And here I was, struggling to make a name for myself in furniture restoration.
“Remember when Pamela was valedictorian?” Dad chimed in. “She gave that incredible speech about ambition and hard work.”
Frankie, sensing my discomfort, tried to redirect the conversation. “Mom, Dad, Dixie’s doing amazing work. Her furniture restoration is really unique.”
But Mom was on a roll. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of you, Dixie but…”
The familiar “but” made my stomach clench. I knew what was coming.
“But what?” I asked, my voice tight.
“But don’t you want more for yourself? Frankie’s climbing the corporate ladder, and you’re restoring old furniture.”
Frankie shot me a sympathetic look. “Mom, her work is art. She takes something broken and makes it beautiful again.”
“Art doesn’t pay the bills.” Dad took a bite of pot roast.
I set down my fork, my appetite suddenly gone. “My business is doing fine. I’m supporting myself.”
“Barely,” Mom said, not unkindly but with that edge that always made me feel small. “We just want what’s best for you.”
We made it through the rest of dinner without me blowing a gasket. I was used to holding my tongue. My parents had been doing this comparison game for a long time.
Later, as we cleaned the kitchen, Frankie nudged me gently. “Don’t listen to them,” she said softly. “They don’t get it. But I do, and I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, my throat tight.
“You know, we should do a double date sometime. There’s a new brewery near my office I’ve been dying to try.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You and Paul should come. It’ll be fun.”
I smiled, genuinely this time. “That sounds great.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “I really want to meet this guy. I’m glad you are dating. You work too much.”
“Me?” I said with a laugh. “You work more than I do.”
“Yeah, but I date all the time,” she said. “I’m always going to dinner.”
“Yeah, yeah, but that’s part of your job,” I said.
“True, but I’m still enjoying the thrill of the dating.”
After the kitchen was spotless, we joined our parents in the living room for tea. The conversation shifted to Easter dinner plans and then, inevitably, to babies. Mom pulled out her phone to show us pictures of her best friend’s new grandbaby, her face soft with longing.
“I hope one of you girls gives us a grandbaby soon,” she said, her voice wistful.
“Not me,” Frankie and I said in unison, earning an exasperated eye roll from Mom.
“You have no idea how much love a little one brings.” She sniffed. “It’s time. I can feel it in my bones. One of you needs to get married and have babies.”
It wasn’t lost on me she was looking at Frankie when she said it. She was not going to rely on me to give her grandbabies. I couldn’t say I blamed her.
Frankie and I walked out of the house together.
“Well, that was interesting,” I said.
“I am not having babies,” Frankie said. “My career is taking off. I’m not about to get derailed by getting pregnant.”
“Hey, I’m not trying to fit a nursery in my tiny apartment.”
Frankie laughed, the tension of the dinner dissipating between us. “Exactly! Plus, you just met someone interesting. You need to see where that goes without any pressure.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I’m enjoying this part of my life.”
“You know, sometimes I think Mom and Dad push us because they don’t understand what makes us happy. They just see what everyone else is doing and think we should follow.”
I nodded, leaning against the cold metal of her car. “Yeah, I know. It’s like they want this cookie-cutter life for us because it’s safe or expected or something. But that’s not what life is about…”
“Exactly,” Frankie said firmly. “And maybe Paul is your adventure. Don’t take it seriously. You’re happy and that’s what matters.”
“Thank you,” I said. “One of these days I’m going to make them proud.”
“Yes, you will.”
I gave her a hug and climbed into my rattle trap. I glanced in the mirror and watched her drive away in her beautiful BMW.
I started the car just as my phone beeped with an incoming text message. It was from Hayes.
Hope dinner wasn’t as bad as you were expecting.
A moment later, another message popped up.
I need to talk to you about something.
His message included a palm tree emoji. I had no idea what that meant. With Hayes, it was impossible to guess.
What was he up to?