With a patchy gray bathrobe wrapped around her body, Jordan appeared in her doorway rubbing a black and red towel over her wavy, damp hair. After a few hours of rest and a shower, Jordan looked a lot livelier. Exhaustion still rimmed her eyes, but Daphne figured it had been a strange few days around the Baines household. Or, perhaps, taking care of her little sister kept Jordan in a perpetual state of near collapse.
Jordan crossed into the kitchen. As she cast a cursory glance at the junk food on the table, she said to Tana, “You left your phone here. Again.”
“Oops.”
Tana shrugged and passed Daphne a bag of nacho chips. She pointed to a wicker basket atop the fridge for Daphne to put them away.
“Oops?” Jordan leaned against the table. Her eyes followed the girls as they glided around the room to store the food. “What if I had to get a hold of you?”
“But you didn’t,” Tana retorted, her voice singsong. “So it’s fine.”
Jordan shut her eyes, smirked, and shook her head.
There hadn’t been a single raised voice and yet Daphne needed a deep, calming breath. She knew a fight when she saw one.
Jordan said, “Grant called.”
Tana smiled. “Grant never calls. What’d he want?”
Jordan tapped her trimmed nails against the table. “Wanted to know about some party you’re throwing?”
“Oh! Did he say if he can make it?”
“No, he didn’t,” Jordan said, “because you never asked if you could have your friends over.”
Tana ducked down below the sink, balled the plastic bags into a corner there. “You work tomorrow,” she said into the cabinet. “I didn’t think it’d bother you.”
Silence sat between the sisters. Long, cold, and ugly.
Daphne assessed the room in a glance: Jordan’s stiff posture and her choice to stay standing, Tana’s lack of eye contact and casual demeanor. It spelled trouble… for all of them if Daphne’s dark side caught on.
Everything will be all right, she told herself. Nothing is wrong. This probably happens all the time. Just keep breathing.