Don’t forget your suit.” Erin’s voice carried up the stairwell to Cara’s childhood bedroom in her mother’s house. In a singsong voice, Cara called back. “I don’t think so.” “But everyone will be swimming. You have to bring your suit.” She leaned close to the mirror to attach a dangling earring, mumbling, “Not in this lifetime.” Makeup applied lightly, she wore her dark auburn hair down. It fell in riotous curls down her back. The long, floral, sheath dress was one of her favorites. She loved the dark green color, and the way the loose material muted the impact of her curves. Grabbing her purse, she hurried downstairs. Frustrated, yet gorgeous, Erin paced the hallway with her hands on her hips, her petite frame displayed to perfection in white linen drawstring pants and a fuchsia tank. A large tote hung from one shoulder. Her strawberry blonde hair was slicked back in a sophisticated knot, and her lips were pulled tight in a mulish frown. “Don’t start.” Cara brushed by her.
