Free Meet Me in Barcelona by Mary Carter

deserved more. She had always thought there was some kind of unbreakable bond between them. She would have bet her life on it. No matter how many years had passed, they should know each other like they knew their own shadows. If the roles had been reversed, Carrie Ann knew she would have recognized Grace. She would have felt her. God. Carrie Ann had really thought her foster-sister—slash blood-sister—would have recognized her. But Grace didn’t even blink. Not one little flick of an eyelash. Huh. Carrie Ann was surprised at how much that hurt. Maybe Grace did recognize her and didn’t want to see her. No, that wasn’t possible. Grace was just too enamored with lover boy. It wasn’t right. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Lovers were temporary. But sisters—how did the old saying go? Sisters were sisters from cradle to grave. Somebody, Carrie Ann thought, should have remembered that.

CHAPTER 8
    Grace followed up their day of sloth by rising before the sun. She made coffee, retrieved her Barcelona guidebook, and sat at the counter with a highlighter. “Oh no,” she heard Jake say. “Not the guidebook.” Priceless given that he was in the other room. How long had he been lying there waiting to say it? Grace laughed. He’d appreciate her organizational skills when they started hitting the sites.
    â€œYou had your lazy day, animal man,” Grace called out. “We’re sightseeing today.”
    â€œBut not until noon, right? Spain comes to life at night, babe. Right after a long siesta. Don’t forget to pencil in our siesta.”
    â€œI was thinking Casa Batlló,” Grace said. Antoni Gaudí’s house was high on her list. She loved all the pictures of the modernist façade. Balconies with masked faces, endless curved walls, glittering mosaic tiles, spirals, and mini-domes stretching above an expansive rooftop terrace. The back of the house was supposed to be patterned after a dragon’s spine. Located along Passeig de Gràcia, Grace’s first pick wasn’t far from La Rambla. There were also plenty of shops nearby, so they could sneak in some of that as well. Even though he’d never admit it, Jake loved clothes shopping almost as much as she did. Then, after touring the house they could stop in at La Boqueria, pick up some tasty morsels for lunch, and head back to the apartment. Siesta, then dinner, and maybe even a little dancing. It sure was generous of someone to pay for their flights and living expenses. Unless he or she wants something .
    Jake’s words came back to her as she poured two cups of coffee. He was right. Most people they knew could barely afford their own vacations, let alone pay for someone else’s. And why hadn’t the “surprise” been revealed yet? They should have been informed the minute they checked into the apartment. It wasn’t fair to keep people waiting until the very last second. What if Grace and Jake missed the wedding because they were off sightseeing?
    They were going to have to stick with their earlier conviction. It was hardly their problem. Grace didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but they were here and they were going to sightsee. If an invitation was coming, it had better come soon. Grace figured tomorrow they would go to the Dalí and Miró museums, and if Jake was up to it, Park Güell. The next day would be reserved for the Sagrada Família. And music. Grace wanted to check out the little jazz clubs and tango places she’d read about. Even though she sang country, Grace loved all kinds of music. She never understood why so many people limited themselves. It was as if it were against the law to like country, and classical, and jazz, and hip-hop, and rock and roll. She loved it all. Too bad she was done playing and singing it herself. Every time she even thought of playing she broke out in a cold sweat.
    She brought Jake’s coffee cup to his