Hometown by Marsha Qualey Page B

paled.
    “Okay,” said his father. “Whatever. That’s okay.”
    Border rolled his eyes. What a general. “You can’t have my room, Dana.”
    “Don’t want it. I’m sleeping down in the basement. The sofa folds out and it’s really nice, and I was sleeping perfectly until I heard the shouting.”
    “Call your mother.”
    “Couldn’t you? Tell her I’m sleeping or something.”
    “She’ll want to talk, Sis.”
    “Duh.”
    The phone rang. Border shook his head. His mother the mind reader, probably.
    The old man picked it up. “Thanks for worrying, Connie. He’s home. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Here’s another good one—Dana has showed up. Yes, here. Okay, good night.”
    Border slumped. “Dad.”
    “What?”
    “It’s too late for company.”
    “I didn’t invite her over.”
    “Since when is it necessary to invite her?”
    “What are you guys talking about?” Dana asked.
    Border walked to the living room and looked out the window just as the garage across the street opened. Taillights flashed and the Cadillac backed down the driveway. Within a minute, Connie was at the door.
    “Hello-ho, kids. I knew I just couldn’t go to sleep tonight. First I was thinking about you, Border, and how your dad oughta wallop you good. And then I hear about Dana. Oh, hon, we’ve been worried about you. I’m Connie. Umm, that salad looks good.”
    “Have some,” said Border’s dad, glumly.
    “Can’t. Paul told me to stay just a minute. Actually he said I shouldn’t come at all, but, well, here I am. Oh, Dana, you’re gorgeous, Border’s twin almost. But, sweetheart, green hair!”
    Border smiled, watching his sister stiffen and pull up to her full seventy-two inches, head proudly lifted on the long, pale neck.
    “What about it?” Dana said, making a point of looking down at Connie’s copper top.
    Connie’s mouth flapped twice. Border sucked air, amazed: Connie was speechless.
    Not forever, of course. “It’s just…I thought… Oh, hon, why… ” She smiled. “Why, with your complexion, I’d go with blue.”
    Confidante —
    Knock, Knock.
    “Are you decent?” Dana whispered outside Border’s bedroom door.
    “Yes, and I’m awake, if that matters.”
    She entered, switched on the light, sat on his bed.
    “Come right in,” he said.
    She pointed to a half-empty bottle of sparkling water on the floor. “How old is that?”
    “More than a day, less than a week.”
    “Good enough.” She picked it up, twisted off the cap, and drank.
    “Connie is really something,” she said when she’d swallowed.
    “That’s an understatement. Wait till you get to know her; words will fail you. Did you call Mom?”
    “All done. Got her machine, thankfully.”
    “She’s been worried. Now she’ll just be mad.”
    “I don’t care. I had a good time on my trip. Now I’m here, and I’m staying.”
    “Dad is stunned.”
    “He’ll get over it. How’s he doing with the new life?”
    “Fine. Finding lots of old friends.”
    “And you?”
    Border shrugged. “Good days, bad days.”
    “What’s a bad day?”
    “Happens when I stop and think about how small this town is. I warn you—every move you make, people are watching.”
    Dana smiled. “I like being watched.”
    “You’ll love it here, then.”
    She yawned. “I don’t care if I love it or not. I just don’t want to go back to Santa Fe. Don’t want to go back to her.”
    “How bad can it be?”
    “I don’t see you rushing off to live with our mother.”
    “I wasn’t allowed to, remember? They divvied us up.”
    Dana nodded. “Boys and girls, that was the split.”
    Border smiled. “I think they argued more about dividing the CD collection.”
    “True enough.”
    “So what’s the problem with Mom?”
    “I’ll give you a clue: She’s preparing a new show.”
    He made a face. “That gets intense.”
    “And you know what she’s calling this one? The Family Plot .”
    “Are we in it?”
    “You need to ask?” She set down the