Free A Woman Lost by T. B. Markinson Page B

there’s a nice guy … or I keep hoping there is.” Maddie patted Sarah’s arm.
    “ Touché, Maddie.” Peter took a swig of bourbon and then left the kitchen, carrying the drinks. I turned to Maddie and asked if my parents were present.
    “Your mother is. Your father hasn’t arrived yet. Something at the office held him up.” She fluttered to the other side of the kitchen. “Really, Lizzie, what does he do? There is always some emergency. And now Peter is always held up as well. This is the first night in weeks that I’ve seen him before ten.” Anger flashed in her eyes.
    “You got me. We don’t talk much.” I shrugged.
    “Yes, that’s right, the mysterious family. Sarah, have you noticed that about Lizzie? Like she tells you just enough about herself, but deep down there’s so much more.” Maddie laughed and continued preparing a salad.
    To my surprise, Sarah came to my defense. “She does have a mysterious side, but when she comes home late, I know what she has been up to. It’s usually because she’s had her nose buried in some book and has lost track of time.” She leaned over to kiss my cheek. Right then, both my mother and brother entered the kitchen. It took a trained eye, but I could see my mother flinch when she saw the kiss.
    Peter smiled. I could practically see him counting the extra money he would inherit.
    “Look, Mother, for once Elizabeth is on time for dinner.” Peter helped Mom to a barstool.
    Sarah glanced at her watch. I looked at the clock on the microwave. It was six-thirty. Sarah looked at me and chuckled. I think she was starting to see why I did certain things, like show up so early for everything.
    “Maddie, is there anything I can do to help with dinner?” asked Sarah.
    “You are a dear, but to be honest, most of it is done. I picked up dinner from this darling restaurant down the street.” She smiled at Sarah. “I hope neither one of you is vegetarian or I’m afraid all you will be eating is this salad.” She tossed it some more and then set it aside.
    I could tell she was nervous. Why? Because of Sarah, perhaps?
    “Fear not, we are both carnivores.” I smiled at Maddie and she reciprocated.
    As she reached for a serving platter on top of the fridge, I saw a large hole in her sweater. It looked like it had been well worn and the hole was testimony to that.
    “Maddie, why do you insist on wearing that sweater? That hole is the size of the Grand Canyon. We are not paupers, my dear.” Peter waved his arm to point out the luxury of their lifestyle.
    “I love this sweater. It’s the most comfortable one I own, so I’m sorry but you’ll just have to endure seeing me in it.” She flashed a stubborn smile at Peter, who turned away to say something to our mother.
    The Scotch-lady did not look impressed by Maddie’s determination to be comfortable. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Mom in a pair of jeans or shorts. She would always tell me, “It is better to always dress nice, because that one time you wear sweats, the whole world will stop by to see you.”
    Of course, I never lived by that mantra, but Peter did. On the rare occasion he wore jeans, they were guaranteed to be of the nicest quality and the most expensive. Even then, they looked starched. What was the point of wearing formal jeans? Especially when they resembled “mom jeans.”
    “How’s your job going, Maddie?” Sarah asked, an obvious attempt to divert attention from the sweater.
    I looked at Sarah. Usually, she was so quiet she would hardly ever engage in conversation with a group of people she did not know. I stopped to wonder whether she was trying to impress me or support me, or whether she just felt comfortable with Maddie’s southern, carefree attitude. It was like they were old friends.
    “Well, should we sit down and start dinner?” said The Scotch-lady before Maddie could even answer Sarah’s question.
    “It’s all ready. I was waiting for Charles,” Maddie