The Wishing Tree by Marybeth Whalen Page A

the same. “They were okay. Not ruling them out but not crazy about them either. Ya know?”
    Ivy nodded even though she didn’t know. Inside she was coaching herself:
Not everything she says is intended to dredge up unhappy memories. This is what it’s going to be like, but it will get better. This is the gauntlet you must run through
. “So are you going to go see other bands?”
    “I don’t know. We should but I’m not all that excited about any of our options. I said we should just have a DJ, but of course Margot wouldn’t hear of it.” In her teens Shea had started calling their mother by her first name just to drive her crazy. That had apparently stuck. “She said, ‘That is so uncouth, Shealee.’” Shea finished her imitation of their mother and turned to look pointedly at Ivy. “This from a woman who named her daughters Ivella and Shealee.”
    Ivy grinned back at Shea. This was one thing the two had always agreed on:
what
had their mother been thinking when choosing their names?
    “Whatever. I will not be using a single family name for my child. You can count on that.” Shea blew loudly on her tea before taking a big sip.
    Child
. The word stuck in her heart as surely as if Shea had thrown it there like a javelin. Ivy feared at this rate she’d never have a child. She was so far from where she thought she’d be in life by now. She stood up. “I’m just going to go check my phone for messages. I left Dad with some loose ends, so he might’ve tried to call.” She was lying, of course. By the way Shea glanced at her, it seemed like she could tell.Even after an extended absence, her sister could read her in a way that other people could not. This thought both comforted and disturbed her.
    Shea set down her cup and put two slices of bread in the toaster oven. “How is the old man?” She asked.
    “Fine, I guess. You know, worried about the economy and his business.”
    “Yeah, I’m really sorry that the economy affected your job too.” Shea caught her eye and held her gaze steady so Ivy would know that she meant it. Just that one small act was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away and sat back down on the barstool instead of making her planned escape.
    “Yeah.” She shrugged, refusing to dig into how nervous she was about being jobless. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just figure something else out. It was a good time to come here.”
    “What does Elliott think about that?” There was that tone to Shea’s voice again, almost an invitation to confide in her. But it was too soon for that.
    Ivy rested her chin in her hand as she watched Shea butter her toast. “He’s good with it. I mean, he understood that it was the right thing for me to come here and help out.” She hoped her voice sounded as light and carefree as she was trying to make it sound. “And he’s really busy too.” She wasn’t lying. He was busy, just not with what Shea would think. She dangled her legs, swinging her feet back and forth, feeling childlike on the high barstool.
    “That’s good. I’m sure you’re going to miss him, though.” Shea studied her engagement ring and smiled. “I couldn’t imagine being away from Owen.”
    “Well, things change after you’re married.”
    Shea rolled her eyes. “Everyone keeps telling me that.”
    Ivy stood up again and was about to escape to the safety of her room when Margot came in, wearing a robe and looking surprisingly old. Ivy glanced at Shea to see if she noticed it, but Shea barely even looked at their mother. To Shea she just looked like Mom, Ivy guessed. The beach house, the family members, the view from the back window—it was all familiar to her, as usual as her own reflection. Part of Ivy wanted that again, wanted the sense of home and entitlement that used to come with crossing the bridge into Sunset Beach.
    “My girls in the same kitchen,” Margot said, squeezing Ivy’s shoulder as she passed by her. “Never thought I’d see this