Free The Space Between Sisters by Mary McNear Page B

dishwasher. Apparently, there was a “right” way to do it and a “wrong” way to do it, something that struck Poppy as absurd. Everyone knew the whole point of loading a dishwasher was to get as many dishes into it as possible, as quickly as possible. Who cared where the glasses went, or the plates or the bowls? There’d been a couple of other sticking points, too. Win had come into her room yesterday to find Sasquatch lying on her bed—a definite breach of protocol. She’d shooed him away, but apparently he’d left some fur behind—a miniscule amount in Poppy’s opinion, but Win had still made a big deal out of having to wash all of her bedding. And then there’d been the matter of the wet towel Poppy had left on the bathroom floor that morning; Win had delivered it to her room with no words, but with a foreboding expression on her face. Poppy had promised to do better, but honestly, she thought, what was the point of Win giving her all of those towels to use if she couldn’t leave the occasional one on the floor?
    But the biggest problem between them right now was also the oldest problem between them: money. Or, more specifically, lack of money, at least on Poppy’s part. Because while they’d agreed, the morning after Poppy’s arrival, that they would split everything fifty-fifty this summer, it was fast becoming clear to Win that Poppy was already running out of money. Poppy hadn’t told her this; not in so many words. But Win had figured it out. Thenight Win had shopped for and cooked their dinner, for instance, they’d had chicken picatta. The night Poppy had shopped for it and cooked it they’d had frozen pizza.
    â€œPoppy,” Win said again now, not even bothering to conceal her annoyance.
    â€œAll right,” Poppy said, sitting up. “I’m done. No more sunbathing.” She stood up, feeling slightly dazed, and began to gather up her belongings. “Let’s have the talk.”
    â€œThe talk?”
    â€œThe talk you want us to have,” Poppy said, starting up the dock.
    â€œI don’t want us to have a talk,” Win said.
    â€œYou don’t?”
    â€œOkay, I do. But not right now. I thought we could have it over dinner. That’s why I made the lasagna. And why I thought you could buy us a bottle of wine to go with it.”
    â€œAll right, I’ll drive into town,” Poppy said, starting up the steps that led to the cabin. She was already calculating what was the least amount of money she could spend on a drinkable bottle of wine.
    â€œOh, you don’t have to drive into town for it,” Win said, following her. “Why don’t you just go to Birch Tree Bait.”
    â€œThat old place where they sell worms?”
    â€œWell, yeah, they still sell those there. But it’s been totally redone. It’s not just bait and tackle anymore. They actually have a grocery section now, too, and you can get a surprisingly decent bottle of wine there.”
    Decent as in cheap? Poppy wanted to ask, but didn’t.
    â€œOkay, I’ll get the wine,” Poppy said, breezing in through the cabin’s back door, and then pausing for a moment to enjoy the dimness and coolness inside after her marathon sunbathing session. What she really would have liked to do right then was totake a long shower and wash off all of that sunscreen, but she knew Win well enough to know that the sooner she left, the better. Win had that set to her jaw now that Poppy had learned to be wary of. Maybe if she could get a few glasses of wine into her before their talk, it would go better, she thought. Maybe, if she played her cards right, they wouldn’t have to have the talk at all.
    Poppy hurried into her room now, and gave Sasquatch, who was lying on one of the beds, a quick pat, then rummaged around in her dresser for something to wear. She ended up pulling on a T-shirt and a pair of blue jean cutoffs, and