Ivy had rented a sporty convertible the same shade of cherry red as the cheap heels that Vera had ditched after Ellie made fun of them. With the top down, she screeched up to the curb and proceeded to beep the horn obnoxiously as though it was possible anyone hadn't noticed her.
Vera shaded her eyes against the sun as she stepped out of the lobby. Ivy's journey from the airport through LA traffic had given her time to shower and put on real clothes, but she hadn't had any coffee yet so she still felt like a half-sketched pattern.
Her sister wiggled her fingers in a little wave. In the passenger seat, her chocolate brown toy poodle Toffee put her paws up against the door, panting, but her husband Eric was nowhere to be seen.
"What do you think?" Ivy threw an arm over the back of the leather seat and tossed her glossy black hair. She was wearing pleated plaid shorts and a breezy white button-up; the fit reminded Vera of the look she'd put together for Carmen's morning show appearance in New York all those months ago. "Do I look like a movie star?"
"You look like a gynecologist on vacation. What the hell are you doing here?"
Ivy lowered her huge sunglasses to give her A Look. "Are you serious? My baby sister is living the glamorous LA lifestyle. I had to visit. See what you've been up to. Make you show me the sights. I've been waiting for you to invite me, but since that never happened I decided to plan it myself."
"You couldn't've warned me you were coming?"
"I tried. You don't answer your phone anymore."
"That's a hint that I don't want to talk to you, Ivy. I haven't forgiven you for that rude shit you said about Sharise." Besides, Vera was not about to tell her sister what she'd been up to. Even if it hadn't recently all blown up on her, she wasn't interested in inviting judgment of the life she had built here.
But to her shock, Ivy said, "You're right. I was out of line."
Vera gaped at her. "What?"
"You think I'm not capable of admitting when I'm wrong?" Ivy asked impatiently. "Listen, I went to med school, where weight is treated like the root of all evil. I'm working on it. I shouldn't have said anything about Sharise's size."
"Is this an apology? What is happening right now?"
"Don't be so dramatic. You're a first-class bitch sometimes, too. And if you can get your shit together to become the hottest stylist in LA, then I can make an effort to be more thoughtful." Ivy patted the passenger seat. "Come on, get in. I want you to show me the best shopping in town and tell me all about your famous friends."
"I don't know if I feel like shopping," Vera said, even though it was the famous friends part that was the real problem. A nice shopping trip might actually be just what she needed to lift her spirits.
"You? Not interested in shopping? You're making me think I should be concerned about you."
"And you're making me think I should tell you to go home." Vera pressed her palms into the side of the car and peered down at Toffee. The dog blinked up at her, fluffy tail wagging furiously. She scratched those puffy ears and was gifted with a tiny, squeaky bark of happiness. "You brought the dog but not the husband?"
"It's called a girl's trip, Vee. Plus, I can't trust Eric to make sure she sticks to her diet. He's always feeding her people food even though the vet said we need to stop. You aren't really gonna turn me away after I came all this way, are you?"
She considered that. Outside air felt nice on her face, even if it was more of a hot, dry wind than a refreshing breeze. She did need to leave the house.
"Look." Ivy grabbed a huge paper cup out of the center console and offered it like it was an Academy Award statuette. "I brought you a coffee. Size giant. Still hot."
Vera couldn't say no to that.
"I'm imposing a non-negotiable no-lecture rule." She slid into the passenger seat, lifting Toffee onto her lap. "Are you shopping for anything in particular?"
"I could use a new handbag, but I'm open to serendipitous finds. You're the expert." Ivy put on some music. "I can't believe you think I lecture you."
"I can't believe you think you don't."
The engine roared as they took off down the road, wind ruffling their hair. The sky swam hazy overhead in the lingering summer heat.
Vera gulped half her coffee and finally began to feel awake. "I assume you want to see Rodeo Drive?"
Ivy pursed her lips into a little pink bow. "Yes. And you probably think that's super basic don't you?"
"You're a gynecologist on vacation. What else would you be except basic?"
"It's true that you've always been the cool one." She made a face. "You really think I lecture you?"
"You do, Ivy."
"Tell me one time I've lectured you."
"Do you not remember yelling at me for quitting the bridal salon?"
"Well, I did bribe Mona to get you that job."
"Which I never asked you to do. I thought you were all about admitting when you were wrong, now."
Reaching over to turn up the music, Ivy frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think I was wrong for that one. You blamed a bride because a dress tore by accident. You ruined her day and then you quit instead of taking accountability. What's a big sister for, if not to call you out when you've fucked up?"
Vera winced, remembering that moment with brutal clarity: that gorgeous dress ripping, hand-sewn seed pearls popping off to bounce all over the floor; the bridesmaids all gasping in horror when she said fat. She'd been having a bad day, and she'd taken it out on the innocent bride. Not her finest moment.
Venice had been a bad day for her, too, but it had been worse for Carmen and Marina, and especially for Sharise, who deserved only good things and should never have anything bad happen to her, ever. Yet she had walked out on all of them.
Ivy had accused her once of running away from anything that got too hard. Vera hadn't wanted to listen, then. But she couldn't deny anymore that it was true.
Scratching Toffee under her tiny chin, she squinted at the buildings zipping by. Jay didn't sugarcoat, but he didn't know her like her sister did. Maybe a dose of Ivy's sometimes ruthless honesty was exactly what she needed. But that didn't mean she had to like it.
She drained the last of her coffee and wished she had more.
In Beverly Hills, flashy cars cruised past flashier people. Ivy circled until she found a parking spot in the fitful shade of pendulous palm trees. Then she slipped Toffee into her brown leather purse. The dog poked her head out from under the handles, tongue lolling happily, as Ivy swayed the bag onto her shoulder.
They started up Rodeo Drive under the gauzy sun, admiring the breezy architecture, white stone and glass meeting in designs that felt modern and classic at the same time. People wandered the streets, window shopping, licking ice cream in the shade, and gawking from the open tops of tourist buses that would next wind up into the Hills, letting the tourists get a taste of being paparazzi as they stalked celebrities right to the doors of their homes.
Vera hadn't done the tourist bit in LA; she'd started working almost the minute she arrived. As she slipped into vacation mode alongside Ivy, she felt like she was seeing the city from a new angle. It was fun to dip into the designer boutiques with no specific goal in mind. Admiring shoes and handbags and finely crafted clothes without the urgent goal of styling a look for a client was a kind of joy she realized she missed. Her sister's wacky ideas about fashion added their own special spice.
"Look at that mannequin," Ivy whispered to her in one shop, surreptitiously pointing out a display of brightly-colored skirts and jackets. "Those clashing patterns look like a colorblind grandma dressed it."
"Hm." Vera studied the mannequin. "I don't love the cut of the jacket, but put a little more structure in those shoulders, the right socks and shoes– I might put Andre in this."
"Oh my god!" Ivy whacked her arm gleefully, making Toffee yelp plaintively into her armpit. "Look at you, namedropping celebs. Andre totally would look hot in that, wouldn't he?"
Vera laughed uncomfortably. She didn't want to be someone who namedropped. When had she started feeling that way? Hadn't she gleefully spilled to Ivy when Carmen first hired her, just like Ivy wanted her to spill now? Had celebrities become just people to her?
"Opinions?" Ivy held up a flowy blouse against her chest.
"Is this for everyday? This one suits you more." Vera pointed out a different top that the shop assistant then pulled from the rack, this one with a watercolor floral pattern. "Wear it with high waisted jeans, maybe a chunky necklace–"
Ivy loved it so much she bought it.
For lunch they sat on a glitzy patio, watching shoppers go by. Ivy set Toffee under the table and the server brought her a small bowl of water, gushing over her little puffy paws. Vera double-checked that Ivy was paying before they ordered cold-pressed juices and light meals.
"Can you tell me what brands they're wearing?" Ivy asked, pointing her fork at a pair of white women strutting past in crystal-studded sandals, matching blonde beach waves swinging.
"The blue is Gucci," Vera said promptly. "Spring/summer collection, two years ago. Shoes, I think Jimmy Choo, but they might be knockoffs. I'd have to see them closer up." She bent her neck to get a look at the second person, then rattled off her brands, too.
"Damn. Not just the brands, but the season, too?"
"It's literally my job to know." She speared a piece of feta cheese off her falafel bowl. "Pick a harder one."
"What about him?"
"That's the new Bhatia ready-to-wear. I'm in love with that collection." Her throat tightened as she said it, though, and she thought about her conversation with Fatima Bhatia in Venice that she couldn't tell Ivy about without admitting that no, she did not have her shit together. The plateful of falafel before her suddenly looked unappetizing. "Want a bite?" She offered her fork.
"Sure– wait, is that feta? I'm good, thanks."
"Since when do you not like feta?
"Too salty today. Oh my god." She gripped Vera's wrist, eyes wide. "Look. Is that Marina Taylor?"
Resisting the sudden overpowering urge to dive under the table to hide from her former client, Vera casually propped her chin on her palm to shield her face before she looked. It was, in fact, Marina. She was chatting with a friend as she juggled an armful of shopping. Her entourage followed, and behind them came the snapping of camera lenses. The paparazzi had been trailing her everywhere in the hopes of catching her with Carmen again. Marina ignored them, but she also wasn't hiding from them.
Vera's heart squeezed a little at the sight of her. She looked happy, laughing with her friend, her skin glowing. Jay, who was still working with her, had caught a rumor that she was planning to officially come out as bisexual on National Coming Out Day in October. Vera had her fingers crossed that would be a positive experience for her, letting her reclaim the narrative.
In a hushed, reverent whisper, Ivy asked, "Can you introduce me?"
"What? No!" Vera looked back at her sister, horrified. "Even if–" She checked herself. She was not going to tell Ivy about Venice. "She's shopping with a friend, Ivy. Not working. That would be so inappropriate."
"Ohh-kay, Miss Gossip-is-My-Life." Ivy scoffed. "What a coincidence that you suddenly develop a conscience when it's your sister who might benefit."
"It's not like that."
"Of course it's not." Ivy leaned down to let Toffee nibble shreds of salmon from her palm. So much for Eric being the one sneaking her human food. "Don't worry, I didn't really think you'd say yes. Can you at least tell me the truth about what happened with her and Carmen Juarez? Did they really hook up?"
Vera prodded at a tomato wedge. That look of eagerness on her sister's face - did Vera wear that same expression when she used to bother Sharise for gossip about Carmen? "That's not my place to share."
"You do know something, though," Ivy wheedled.
"Wait." Instead of stuffing her mouth full to avoid having to answer, Vera put her fork down. "Why would you ask me to introduce you? I never told you I was working with Marina."
Her sister didn't look embarrassed. "I read your press, obviously."
"You what?"
"Mom calls us your fan club." Ivy laughed at her dumbfounded expression. "She's printed out every single article she can find about you and put them in a little book. She even sent that video of you falling in the canal in Venice to all the aunties."
"Oh my god. She didn't." Vera groaned and dropped her face into her hands. "Not Auntie Xiu too? She would never let me live that down."
"Don't worry." Ivy patted her hand. "It was a sensation."
After lunch, it was back to the car for the LA insider tour. Vera took her sister to her favorite vintage, consignment, and indie designer boutiques. They sipped boba and put on extravagant hats. Ivy finally found the handbag she had wanted, a huge monogrammed Louis Vuitton she found at a pre-loved discount.
It was while they were trying on dresses in one small hole-in-the-wall consignment store that Vera finally figured out why Ivy had really come to visit. Always ready with a word to fill any moment of quiet, Ivy was telling her about the new ob-gyn who had joined her practice, in between commentary on the clothing.
"It's been great having another doctor. I've been able to cut back on my hours a bit. Can you pass me the orange one?"
Vera handed the requested dress into the tiny changing room. Behind her, the shop assistant was cooing over Toffee. No one could resist the friendly ball of fluff. "Since when is work-life balance a priority for you?"
Ivy sniffed. Rustling and zipping sounds floated out over the striped curtain. "I'm getting older, Vera. Priorities change."
"Your priorities have never changed. You were always the woman with the plan. Straight A's to get into med school, then private practice, then the big house and perfect husband."
"Mom was the woman with the plan, not me." She pulled the curtain aside, hand on her hip. "What do you think?"
Frowning, Vera reached out to tug at the fabric. "The color is great, but it's not fitting right under the bust. What do you mean, Mom was the woman with the plan?"
Ivy propped her other fist onto her hip too as Vera fiddled with the dress, trying to figure out why the fit was off and if she could fix it. "I mean, Mom dumped all her hopes and dreams onto me. You must get top grades, Ivy. You must become a doctor or an engineer, Ivy. Get married already, Ivy, you've made me wait so long for grandchildren." Old layers of bitterness added volume to her joking tone. "Mom had my whole life planned out before I was born."
"Didn't you want that stuff, too? Aren't you happy?"
"Sure, I'm happy. I have a great life, I'm not saying I don't. But I never got a chance to ask myself if maybe I wanted something different. You don't know how jealous I was when you came around and surprise, you got to do whatever you wanted. Art class instead of calculus? Why not. Take a year off after high school to figure yourself out? Go to school for fashion design? Date women? Whatever you want, Vera."
"But Mom has always been so disappointed in me," Vera said, baffled. How could sisters who had grown up together see their entire lives so differently? Ivy was the favorite. She had always known that to be true.
"Disappointed? Yeah, right. I mean, yeah, she was hard on you. She was hard on me, too. She wants us to be successful so we can take care of her in her old age. But I never got a fan club." As though this wasn't a bombshell, she turned sideways to the mirror and wrinkled her nose. "I feel like a sausage in this dress."
As she ran her palms over her stomach in this weird, tender way, Vera finally saw it. All arguments about their upbringing were knocked instantly from her mind.
"Oh my god. Ivy, are you pregnant?"
Her sister clapped her hands over her stomach, but she didn't bother trying to obfuscate. "I was going to tell you over supper. Turning down a glass of wine would give me away instantly." But then a beaming smile burst across her face. "Fifteen weeks," she said. "You're gonna be an auntie. I hope you're ready, 'cause my kid deserves the best cool aunt."
Vera might have thought that Ivy just wanted to gloat about her pregnancy, to remind Vera how perfect her life was, and maybe Ivy did want to do a little of that. But for once that didn't bother Vera. Ivy could gloat - there was nothing about her life that Vera wanted. And right now, it was clear she was mostly asking her sister to share in this moment of joy with her. That happiness in her giant grin wasn't feigned, and there was even a hint of hope in the way her eyebrows crinkled as she waited for Vera's reply.
"Oh my god," Vera said again. Then little bubbles of excitement began to rise, surprising her more than the revelation. "I'm so happy for you," she said, and she meant it. "Wow." A snort of laughter escaped her. "What about Eric? If you don't even trust him with the dog..."
"Honestly, I have no fucking idea."
They fell against each other, giggling, and hugged tightly.
"Congratulations," Vera said. "I hope you're prepared to have the most stylish kid on the block."
"I certainly hope so. You should save some of your talent for your family."
They retrieved Toffee from the shop assistant, who looked just about ready to dognap the poodle, and found another restaurant to while away the rest of the afternoon over mocktails and noodles. Ivy told her all about the rollercoaster of pregnancy and Eric's plans for the nursery before they lapsed into reminiscing about their childhoods. Vera avoided questions about when she was bringing Sharise home to meet the family with vague assurances of 'soon'. At dusk they visited the Hollywood sign, taking selfies in the perfect golden hour light. They hugged again when they parted that night, and Vera found she couldn't stop smiling.
When Vera got back to Jay's, he wasn't home. In the dark apartment, she didn't open her laptop. Instead, she sat on the couch and looked at her stack of boxes for a while.
She didn't know why the idea of becoming an aunt felt so very adult. She wasn't the one popping out a baby. Maybe it was more about the wistfulness with which Ivy had described being jealous of Vera's freedom to choose her own path. Because Vera still had that freedom, and she had finally figured out what she really wanted. She had fucked up a lot so far, but maybe she had just been going about things the wrong way.
Pressing to her feet, Vera shifted boxes and opened lids until she found what she was looking for: her sketchbook. Pencil in hand, she clicked on the light beside the couch. For a moment, she let her eyes dip shut, thinking about Sharise, the way her teeth flashed when she let a real smile creep across her face.
And then she got to work.