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When last we left them, Viv had bumped into Jack and not-Renee outside a deli.
A few lines of witty platonic banter—about dill pickle soup, caffeine gnomes, and office mooches—and one annoyed not-Renee later, Jack gets around to the introductions . . .
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“You’re Kirsten’s sister?”
“For my sins,” Viv said, used to the reaction, “or maybe hers.”
“You must be having so much fun helping with the wedding,” Renee said, in a tone that might have sounded a little less condescending, if Viv had been twenty years younger and a flower girl.
Jack coughed.
“You have no idea,” said Viv, with a laugh.
For some reason, this made the other woman’s smile flicker. “Jack has been a little sketchy on the details,” she said, shooting him a look. “He couldn’t even tell me what the cake looks like.”
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Aaaaand, we’re off.
Anyone else get the feeling Viv and not-Renee are going to be really, really good friends? And that not-Renee doesn’t quite believe that she was stood up for a two-hour cake tasting?
That’s my now-nearly-seven year old up there, by the way, attending a fairy tea party at the Botanical Center three summers ago.
Earful of Cider 