Shake Down the Stars Read Free Page A

move!
He responds by surreptitiously lying flat on the bed and shaping himself into a motionless blob.
    Margot takes long, elegant steps across the room. She spent most of her childhood on the beauty pageant circuit and still moves as though balancing a book on her head. She soaked up every pretty feature from Mom and her father, and now serves as a perfect composite of the two: doe-eyed, high-cheek-boned, worthy of every double take she receives. I, on the other hand, took after my father: long-limbed and angular, with a wide mouth and deep-set eyes. No one has ever mistaken us for sisters—half or not.
    She stands directly next to the bed and peers out the window. “I guess I shouldn’t complain about the weather when I have so much to be grateful for. I must be one of the happiest women alive.”
    â€œLucky for the rest of us, your humility remains intact.”
    â€œSeriously, P, I’m truly grateful. Last night Curtis was so sweet. After kissing me all over my face, he fell down to his knees and kissed my—”
    â€œToo much information! I keep telling you, I don’t need to know every detail of your sex life.”
    â€œI was going to say he fell to his knees and kissed my
hand
, stupid. He proposed all over again.”
    â€œHow many times is the man going to propose?”
    â€œAs many times as he wants, thank you very much. I can’t believe how God has blessed me. He’s handsome. Rich. Kind. What more could a girl want?”
    â€œIntelligence?”
    She cuts her eyes.
    I feel the troll give my ankle a shake. Message received, I ask, “So, what do you want, anyway? I was about to take a bath.”
    â€œI wanted to talk. I’m a little down, I guess. I wish Grampy were here is all.”
    She sits next to me on the bed. I worry briefly that she’ll catch on to the fact that there’s a man under the covers, but no surprise, she’s completely oblivious.
    â€œI keep imagining how happy Grampy would be if he knew I was marrying the one and only Curtis Randolph.”
    Margot’s father raised me from the time I was eleven. His father, Grandpa Wright, or Grampy, died two years ago. My own father, the deadbeat, left when I was barely two months old. He sent Mom money from time to time, but never with a return address. By the time I turned three, he’d disappeared altogether, turning Mom and me into characters from a Dickens novel. Mom worked two jobs, as a waitress and a sales clerk, but money was as elusive as that person you’ve always had a crush on but who never notices you.
    After years of life on the poverty line, Mom met Charles Wright, Margot’s father. Charles was a banker at the time, and, like some kind of economic superhero, swooshed in, married Mom, and moved us three rungs up the socioeconomic ladder. Margot was born a year into the marriage, and suddenly Mom had the life she’d always wanted: a man, a home, a little girl she could afford to spoil rotten. I, meanwhile, gained a sister eleven years my junior. Then, sometime while I was in high school, Charles announced that he’d been called to serve God. He started a church in a small movie theater, and now that same church is some one thousand members strong.
    â€œI know you miss Grampy, Margot,” I say, “but you should be grateful that your father is alive and present in your life. Try to focus on that.”
    â€œYou’re right,” she says, taking my hand. “You’re right. I wish more than anything that someone else could be here, too.”
    I lower my gaze. “Margot.”
    â€œDad is going to say a few words about Grampy, and I’d like him to say a few words about Hailey, too. I think it’s important that they
both
be remembered tonight.”
    â€œMargot—”
    â€œI want tonight to be about family. I think we should honor her.”
    I pull my hand away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.