Read Online All for a Sister by Allison Pittman - Free Book Online
Authors: Allison Pittman
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“You never said anything about working with a kid.”
“Adorable as she is,” the other added quickly.
“I want to capture as many different scenes as I can,” Daddy said, hitching Celeste closer to his side. “Including action and high motion, and I don’t fancy either of you running with abandon through the yard.”
“I told you already I’d do whatever motion you wanted,” the woman with the cigarette said. She reached out and pinched at Daddy’s pant leg, making Celeste want to kick her hand away.
“Making you not quite the ideal mother material, I suppose.” He set Celeste down on the ground and pointed her toward the other woman. “Celeste, sweetheart, this is Edie.”
“Abby,” she said, darting her eyes first up to Daddy and then down to Celeste.
“Sorry.”
“Charmed.” Abby held out her hand, and at her father’s prompting, Celeste shook it.
“Now,” Daddy continued, “I’m going to be filming . . .”
“Nadine,” the woman prompted.
“Nadine, over by the trellis. Abby, if you wouldn’t mind, maybe add a touch of color to my girl, just the lips and cheeks?”
“Of course.” But she looked like she minded quite a bit.
Celeste took the abandoned seat on the bench and watched over Abby’s shoulder as Daddy helped Nadine out of her coat, despite the woman’s protest of the chilly temperature.
“I’m not asking you to trek across the Klondike,” he said.“I need to capture the color of your dress. Any camera can pick up a black coat. There, over by the hibiscus, please.” And when Nadine looked confused, he took her elbow and turned her toward Graciela’s pride and joy—the perpetually bright, flowering plant in the corner of the garden.
“Hey, kid,” Abby said. “Look here.”
She’d taken a small jar out of her purse and held it open in the palm of one hand, the fingers of the other dipped in. “Do this.” She spread her lips into a long, thin smile, and Celeste did her best to imitate it and not back away when Abby touched her rouge-tipped fingers to her cheeks. “Now blend.” She demonstrated by rubbing her own fingers in a circular motion on her already-pink cheeks, and once again Celeste mimicked the action.
“Mother wouldn’t approve,” Celeste said, hoping not to rub it all away.
“Well, I ain’t a mother. Now pucker. Like a kiss.”
Celeste did so and, without prompting, squeezed her lips together to work the dabbed-on color to a perfect tint, though Mother would have had a much different way to describe it, using words that Celeste dared not even think.
“Can I see?”
“See what?” Abby applied an unnecessary layer to her own lips before screwing on the lid.
“Me. Can I run inside and look in the mirror?”
“Here.” She reached inside her purse again and produced a small compact, from which she withdrew a circle of powder-flecked cotton and dabbed at her nose. Celeste took the proffered mirror and saw her own familiar face, now enhanced with new color, and puckered her lips again.
“I look like a lady in a magazine,” she said, in awe of this new beauty.
“You got a ways to go before that.” Abby took the compact away, snapped it shut, and turned to look at the scene behind her. “That one— she could be in a magazine.”
Celeste leaned forward, wishing her father would move out of the way so she could get a better view. She tugged at Abby’s sleeve. “Do you want to go up on the patio? It might be a little warmer.”
“Sure. Heaven forbid, I suppose, we could wait inside.”
“I can’t invite strangers in.”
Abby gave a short laugh. “Good policy, sister.”
Making a wide arc around her father and the cameraman, she led the woman to the covered patio, where they sat on cushioned rattan chairs facing the yard. From here, she could see everything. The cameraman’s arm worked furiously, turning the handle on the wooden box, his head buried beneath a square black cloth.
“That’s it,” Daddy was
“You never said anything about working with a kid.”
“Adorable as she is,” the other added quickly.
“I want to capture as many different scenes as I can,” Daddy said, hitching Celeste closer to his side. “Including action and high motion, and I don’t fancy either of you running with abandon through the yard.”
“I told you already I’d do whatever motion you wanted,” the woman with the cigarette said. She reached out and pinched at Daddy’s pant leg, making Celeste want to kick her hand away.
“Making you not quite the ideal mother material, I suppose.” He set Celeste down on the ground and pointed her toward the other woman. “Celeste, sweetheart, this is Edie.”
“Abby,” she said, darting her eyes first up to Daddy and then down to Celeste.
“Sorry.”
“Charmed.” Abby held out her hand, and at her father’s prompting, Celeste shook it.
“Now,” Daddy continued, “I’m going to be filming . . .”
“Nadine,” the woman prompted.
“Nadine, over by the trellis. Abby, if you wouldn’t mind, maybe add a touch of color to my girl, just the lips and cheeks?”
“Of course.” But she looked like she minded quite a bit.
Celeste took the abandoned seat on the bench and watched over Abby’s shoulder as Daddy helped Nadine out of her coat, despite the woman’s protest of the chilly temperature.
“I’m not asking you to trek across the Klondike,” he said.“I need to capture the color of your dress. Any camera can pick up a black coat. There, over by the hibiscus, please.” And when Nadine looked confused, he took her elbow and turned her toward Graciela’s pride and joy—the perpetually bright, flowering plant in the corner of the garden.
“Hey, kid,” Abby said. “Look here.”
She’d taken a small jar out of her purse and held it open in the palm of one hand, the fingers of the other dipped in. “Do this.” She spread her lips into a long, thin smile, and Celeste did her best to imitate it and not back away when Abby touched her rouge-tipped fingers to her cheeks. “Now blend.” She demonstrated by rubbing her own fingers in a circular motion on her already-pink cheeks, and once again Celeste mimicked the action.
“Mother wouldn’t approve,” Celeste said, hoping not to rub it all away.
“Well, I ain’t a mother. Now pucker. Like a kiss.”
Celeste did so and, without prompting, squeezed her lips together to work the dabbed-on color to a perfect tint, though Mother would have had a much different way to describe it, using words that Celeste dared not even think.
“Can I see?”
“See what?” Abby applied an unnecessary layer to her own lips before screwing on the lid.
“Me. Can I run inside and look in the mirror?”
“Here.” She reached inside her purse again and produced a small compact, from which she withdrew a circle of powder-flecked cotton and dabbed at her nose. Celeste took the proffered mirror and saw her own familiar face, now enhanced with new color, and puckered her lips again.
“I look like a lady in a magazine,” she said, in awe of this new beauty.
“You got a ways to go before that.” Abby took the compact away, snapped it shut, and turned to look at the scene behind her. “That one— she could be in a magazine.”
Celeste leaned forward, wishing her father would move out of the way so she could get a better view. She tugged at Abby’s sleeve. “Do you want to go up on the patio? It might be a little warmer.”
“Sure. Heaven forbid, I suppose, we could wait inside.”
“I can’t invite strangers in.”
Abby gave a short laugh. “Good policy, sister.”
Making a wide arc around her father and the cameraman, she led the woman to the covered patio, where they sat on cushioned rattan chairs facing the yard. From here, she could see everything. The cameraman’s arm worked furiously, turning the handle on the wooden box, his head buried beneath a square black cloth.
“That’s it,” Daddy was
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