The Man She Married. Muriel Jensen

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      “Where you going?” she asked.

      “To the studio.” Prue ducked down to reply. “Why aren’t you and Randy making out somewhere? What’s wrong with you?”

      “One of the other EMTs’ mother died and Randy was called in to cover for him.” Paris shrugged. “So, I thought I may as well drive. Get in.” She pulled a bottle of 7-Up and a package of saltines off the passenger seat.

      Prue complied, fastened her seat belt, then took the bottle and crackers from her. “How’s the nausea?”

      “Comes and goes,” Paris replied, watching her rearview mirror as she pulled out again. Taking her place in the busy traffic, she grinned at the windshield. “I’m feeling too obnoxiously happy to notice, really. Can you believe it? I’m in love! And I’m going to be a mother.”

      Prue patted her sister’s arm, sincerely pleased for her, while her own heart reacted with a silent whimper. “A lot’s changed since you woke up at five this morning, sick as a dog and determined to leave Maple Hill and Randy to go back to law school.”

      Paris nodded, still smiling. “I know. I can’t believe that only hours ago I was so sure that all the wonderful aspects of my life were over, except for the baby. And here I am.”

      “Obnoxiously happy.”

      “Yes. And you know why?”

      “Why?”

      They’d passed downtown now and the Breakfast Barn sign was visible in the distance on the left side of the highway.

      “Because I was forced to listen to reason. Randy came after me and made me listen to him.” She spoke amiably, then added with pointed emphasis, “Just like Gideon tried to do with you this morning.”

      If Prue wasn’t wearing her favorite red wool jacket, she’d have leaped from the moving car and taken her chances. But this fabric had been the devil to work on and she wasn’t going to endanger it to escape her sister’s advice.

      “Do you want to hear what he told me this morning?” she asked Paris.

      Paris sent her a quick and frankly interested glance. “Do you want to tell me?”

      Prue recounted Gideon’s story complete with the members of the ethics committee hitting a moose and the stripper harboring a lifelong desire for higher education.

      Paris considered a moment, waving at the driver of a police car that drove past. “I don’t think that’s so unbelievable. Parts of the story are a little outrageous, but then Mom always says that truth is—”

      “Stranger than fiction,” Prue finished for her. “I know. Well, I don’t believe it. There’s been nothing about the incident in the paper.”

      “He said it was an ongoing investigation.”

      “That’s what he said.”

      “Prudie…” Paris gasped, obviously frustrated with her. That came as no surprise. They’d learned to deal with each other since they’d each returned home a year ago, but they would always be two very different women.

      Paris was levelheaded and practical, and if it hadn’t been for a shocking discovery about their mother’s history that redirected her entire life, Paris would probably be about to take the bar exam right now. Prue had always thought Paris took after Jasper O’Hara, their father, who’d been an accountant and the voice of reason in their lively family. But it turned out that Paris was the result of a traumatic event in her mother’s life, and whatever she’d inherited from Jasper had been by osmosis rather than genetics.

      Prue, on the other hand, was artistic and mercurial like their mother, and tended to operate on emotion rather than reason, which oddly seemed more reliable to her. Reason was so black and white and allowed little scope for creativity. Emotion, however, could take one in a million different directions and always seemed to open doors rather than close one in.

      “You know,” Paris started again. “You’re so creative about everything until it comes to love. It doesn’t exist just to serve you, you know. Gideon’s whole purpose in life wasn’t to see that you were adored and that nothing in your life went wrong. It’s entirely possible that things happened just the way he said they did, but you won’t trust him because you’d have to open up your concept of what love is. Maybe he needed you at the same time you were so desperate for reassurance.”

      Prue tried to understand that and couldn’t.

      “What are you talking about?” she asked crossly. “Love is about supporting and respecting one another. You might remember that I’ve been doing this longer than you have. I did it for four years while he claimed to be working too hard to do it for me, only to find out that he was fooling around.”

      “He said he wasn’t.”

      “I saw him!”

      “You saw him fully dressed with a nearly naked woman in his lap. I think it’s entirely possible his explanation could be true.”

      “Yeah, well, your future doesn’t hinge on the possibility that it could also be a lie.”

      “Okay,” Paris sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, especially now that I’m carrying a baby and you’re about to become the next Donna Karan.”

      Prue drew a calming breath. They’d have never agreed to disagree in the old days; they’d have fought an issue until they weren’t speaking. Both of them had learned a lot and gained some maturity over the past year.

      “Okay,” Prue said. “And I appreciate all you did to make the fashion show a success. The library made a lot of money, and so did I.”

      Paris grinned wryly. “I think my fainting on the runway earned you some pity business, but we can’t take issue with that. So, how are you going to fill all those orders?”

      “I’ve been thinking about that. Now that I have a little cash to play with, I’m going to hire help. And Rosie DeMarco from Happily Ever After might be willing to help me if her sister’s around to watch the shop.”

      “Sounds like you have it all worked out.”

      “Planned out, anyway. Whether everything goes according to plan is another matter.”

      They’d reached the old Chandler Mill Building on the river where Prue had her studio in an upstairs space. Paris pulled into the parking lot. “Call me when you’re done for the day,” she said, “and we’ll go for Chinese. Randy’ll be at the fire station tonight and I can visit but I can’t hang around too long.”

      Prue nodded. “That’ll be fun. When you’re not home, I feel like a fifth wheel with Jeffrey at Mom’s. I mean, I love him dearly and I think it’d be wonderful if he and Mom got together, I just don’t want to be in their way.”

      “I’m sure you’re not. You know Mom. She’d tell you if you were. She’d put it charmingly, but she’d tell you.”

      They laughed together, not at their mother, but at their shared knowledge of her passive-aggressive honesty.

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