Rosalind loved the smell of the kitchen on Gardam Street more than any other scent in the whole world. She breathed in deep once, and she held it. Then she let it all out.
"Doing some yoga?" Jane asked while she rifled around in the cabinet for a snack.
"Gotta be centered," Rosalind said. She walked over to the counter and ran her hand over the surface. She had baked countless cakes and pies and cookies in this kitchen, and the smell seemed to hold the faraway scent of melting sugar. No matter what, this counter had always been there for her.
"Damn it," Jane hissed. She had spilled pita crackers into her lap, since she was trying to simultaneously shove the crackers into her mouth and jot down some lines in her notebook.
"Just do one thing at a time," Rosalind said.
"Can't," Jane said.
"Yoga would help with that."
Rosalind had gotten very into yoga in college. Everyone in the family had made fun of her for it. There's Rosalind, so peaceful and gentle, of course she does yoga. She didn't do it so much anymore. This past winter, she had gotten into spin classes.
They made fun of that too. So trendy. So millennial.
It's not like Rosalind paid thirty bucks a class to go to Soulcycle, with all its flashing lights and neon sports bras.
No, Rosalind just went to classes at the local YMCA. She enjoyed the cardio, and it was nice to just ride for thirty minutes. She never thought of anything else but the music and the bike when she was in spin. Rosalind had always been exceptional at focusing on just one thing.
A door slammed and pounding footsteps ricocheted throughout the Penderwick house.
"Jane!" Lydia shrieked. "Rosalind!"
Ben followed. He was less enthusiastic – he was a teenager now after all – but still happy to see his sisters.
"You look like you have shrunk," Jane said. "Do you have some sort of horrible disease? Is a plague spreading via the drinking water in Cameron?"
Lydia giggled.
"I brought you a gift, sweetie," Rosalind said.
Lydia clapped her hands and gleefully accepted the necklace Rosalind handed over. Lydia had always like pretty things. Rosalind's friend made handmade jewelry, and when Rosalind saw the little yellow flower trapped in the glass bead, she had instantly thought of red-haired Lydia.
It never escaped Rosalind's notice that Lydia and Ben treated her more like an aunt than a sister. With Jane, there was teasing and comfort and zero formality. But Rosalind had been about to go to college when Lydia was born, and Ben had been young as well. He didn't remember the teenage Rosalind that had babysat him and walked him to preschool, right after their parents had married.
There was some clear-cut line, and Rosalind had always been on the other side of it. The mysterious oldest sister. The grownup Rosalind. The responsible substitute mother-figure who never fell apart or made mistakes or did anything spontaneous.
It was probably worse for Skye. When Skye had moved across the country, the younger siblings started talking about her as if she was some sort of legendary myth or folktale.
Rosalind sighed. She was being dramatic. Maybe she should go back to yoga.
"Rosie, you should bake something tonight," Jane said. "In celebration!"
"I spoil you all," Rosalind said.
But she smiled and started to lay out on the counter the ingredients for brownies.
Batty arrived just after Rosalind put them in the oven. Batty hugged her first, then Jane and Ben, and then scooped Lydia onto her lap.
"Oh, I've missed everything," Batty said. "Every single thing."
"Ha, you don't miss driving everywhere for something to do," Ben said. "You probably have more restaurants on your block than in all of Cameron."
"A traveler might roam all around the world and back again, and nothing can match their hometown," Jane said.
"Well put," Rosalind said.
Rosalind could tell Batty was troubled. Batty never did have any sort of poker face. Batty and Rosalind might have been identical, right down to the cut of their cheekbones, the angle of their chins and the freckles on their noses, as their father liked to say, but Rosalind had long ago perfected the art of pushing emotions off her face and smoothing on a placid smile. She called it her Master-of-The-Situation Face.
Batty had none of that composure. Batty had every worry, fear and sadness stamped across her face. Every human emotion was always bubbling right beneath Batty's surface. It was probably what made her such an expressive singer.
"You two should do your homework," Rosalind said to Ben and Lydia. "I don't want Iantha and Dad saying that we distract you. They'll ban us from the house."
Lydia and Ben nodded and headed towards their backpacks. There it was again: they obeyed Rosalind because she was an adult, not a sibling. Jane said she had to get some writing and then drifted upstairs for some quiet, as Rosalind knew she would.
As soon as they were alone in the kitchen, Batty exploded.
"Wesley and I broke up," Batty said. "He's moving west for the sake of his art, and we broke up, and I wasted my whole freshman year on him, and now I don't have any friends, and I'll never be successful."
"Oh, honey," Rosalind said. "Breakups are tough, especially when it's because of a move."
Tears were welling up in Batty's eyes. Rosalind was surprised. She knew Batty was sensitive, but she also knew Batty was good at being happy. Batty knew what she loved: music and animals and delicious vegetarian meals. It was unlike Batty to be in agony.
Rosalind crossed the kitchen and sat next to Batty. She felt, all of a sudden, like she was back talking with Jane about one of her disastrous love affairs. Was Skye going to be like this when she got back from California? In a year or two, would it be Ben? And then Lydia?
"Hey, it'll be ok," Rosalind said.
Batty breathed deeply and smiled.
"You're right," Batty said. "I just need to keep moving."
Rosalind smiled and patted Batty's hand.
"Where's Tommy this weekend?" Batty asked.
"He's busy with a case," Rosalind said.
"You're so lucky," Batty said with a laugh. "You found Tommy, and everything was perfect, and you never had to go through this nonsense."
"We did break up," Rosalind said.
"Yeah, for like a second," Batty said.
Rosalind stood up and went to check the brownies. She cracked the oven, and the rush of hot air swept over her face. She breathed in the warm chocolate smell, and she didn't bother reminding Batty that it had been a whole entire year.