The girls are five years old when Dan writes a short story called Twins in New York.
Trying, for once, at whimsy rather than satirical social commentary, he all but forgets about it until Lily and Rufus are over for a visit, and she finds the printed copy he never got around to editing on the coffee table.
Next thing he knows they're standing in the middle of Strawberry Fields, watching the girls do cartwheels in the grass, while Lily snaps photo after photo putting visuals to the words.
"No stains!" Blair warns, hoping to their clothes will remain flawless.
Dan snorts and looks away from the glare shot at him. Blair's one concession to the project was that she and she alone got to pick their outfits, despite objecting to Lily's insistence that they match perfectly.
Mary Jane's and patterned white tights, old fashioned waistcoats of the bluest blue, buttoned all the way up to their necks and topped off with hats that make them look like they were transported from another time.
Next stop, the observation deck of the Empire State Building. The girls sit side by side in front of the guard railing, and for some reason Alice can't stop giggling while Dorothy just stares at her like she's crazy. The picture becomes an odd contrast of one girl's uninhibited joy against the others stone faced curiosity of it.
Blair holds his hand almost the entire time they're up there. It takes that long for him to see what she sees. Their daughters, the man, and the city she loves all encompassed in a panoramic view.
For a moment his heart is so full it could burst.
Last stop is the Met steps. Dan almost laughs at the sight of Dorothy and Alice perched where their mother once ruled with a scheming heart and razor tongue. They walk precariously along the edges, hands reaching for one another on instinct when getting to close to going over.
One photo Dan will keep on his nightstand until the day he dies, is Dorothy standing perfectly still with her mischievous little eyes plotting away, while Alice stands at her left with an accepting smile. Telling that, whatever her sister does, she will follow.
On the cab ride home, the girls perched protectively between their parents, they fall asleep huddled against each other. Dan looks to Blair and she to him, both thinking how long and how much took to get to this place, and that they wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
/\/\/\
The girls are fifteen years old when they (one of them anyway) start dating.
Alice sits at the breakfast nook, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, trying to concentrate on the text of her advanced chemistry book. Her pen taps restlessly against the pages, cup after cup of tea being consumed, as she glances at the clock every few minutes.
Dorothy is supposed to be here for a much needed tutoring session, but is off doing who knows what with her boyfriend, Rogers Willingham. An artists heart and a sailor's mouth is how she describes him. Totally her type.
The added 's' annoys her for reasons she can't apply logic to because really, what kind of parent pluralizes an only child's name? As well as the way her sister suddenly acts like the sun rises and falls with him.
It's not completely unexpected, that Dorothy would be the first to get a beau, she always being the more outgoing one.
Oh, how her sister has tried to throw boys her way, but not a single one has been able to keep up conversationally, and no matter what Dorothy insists she will not tone it down for the sake of simple arm candy.
She keeps her eyes on the book as Mom walks into the kitchen, but watches her pull a bottle of water from the fridge, leaning against the counter and taking a drink.
"Just you?"
Alice nods without lifting her head up.
"Where is-"
"I don't know," she snaps unintentionally, the harsh clink of the tea cup being forced onto the saucer echoing in the kitchen. Blair's eyebrows lift, before shaking her head and smiling softly.
"I think I should have been more prepared for this."
"Oh boy," Alice mutters.
"Sweetheart, when you get to a certain age," she starts, stops and scowls a second trying to figure out how to put this, always considering Alice to be more sensitive of the two.
"Mom, I think we both know sugar coating it is more Dad's forte, so you don't have to bother."
"Oh, thank god," Blair says, screwing the cap back on her bottle. "It's like this. Your sister met a boy, and suddenly he's the be all end all to her existence because to her hormonally charged thought process, he is."
Alice's eyes go wide. Maybe sugar coating was the better idea because she does not want to talk about her sisters hormones.
"Your social lives have been intertwined since before you could speak, and now it's changing-"
"The change I get," Alice interrupts, absently spinning her cup around.
"Then what is it?"
"He's just so... Ugh!" She says, her whole body clenching into a fist. "His grubby, holier than thou art pedigree. How he lords it over everyone. Like I'm not worthy of conversation because I'd rather solve quantum equations than slather some paint on canvas. And she hardly ever defends me, it's just, he's so beneath her."
Alice scowls when her mother chuckles softly at the rant.
"You don't have to laugh at me," she mutters, cheeks flushing scarlet.
"It's not at you," Blair assures. "It's just that, well, I used to think the same about your father."
"That's really not helping," Alice replies, gathering up her books and swiftly exiting the kitchen.
"Sweetie, wait! I-"
Blair sighs when Alice doesn't turn back.
"Well that was some fine parenting," she says quietly to herself.