Sister's Choice by Judith Pella Page B

Ellie was right. “I am not going to be deceptive,” Maggie assured her sister, her ire dampened by her own conscience. “It is only natural that we pay a visit to welcome Tamara. Mama even suggested it.”
    “After you brought it up.”
    “Still, it is the neighborly thing to do.”
    “I don’t want you to pretend to be friends with Tamara just to undermine her.”
    That statement, spoken with a superior tone, as if Ellie was her mother, sent Maggie’s ire soaring once more. “If you don’t have the stomach for this, then you can go back home!”
    “Maggie . . .” Ellie beseeched.
    As usual, Maggie needed her big sister’s approval. And she truly did not want to be deceptive. “I’m not going to pretend,” she appeased. “She seems like a nice girl that I could easily be friends with.”
    “I think you should tell her right off about your interest in Colby.”
    Maggie gasped. “I couldn’t!”
    “What would it hurt? Maybe she would put aside any designs she might have on Colby.”
    “Why would she do that?” Maggie argued. “And what of Mrs. Stoddard’s designs? Once she learns of my interest in her son, she will think me a brazen hussy.”
    “Hardly. She might even like the idea of Colby matching with a local girl.”
    Maggie replied with a skeptical sidelong look.
    “Okay,” Ellie conceded. “You might not want it to get back to Mrs. Stoddard, but couldn’t you get Tamara alone and tell her in confidence? Even if she chooses not to step aside, you will have been honest.”
    “This is not one of those times when honesty is the best policy,” Maggie insisted. She knew Ellie’s intractable moral sensibilities might have a difficult time with that idea, but Maggie believed you could be quiet about something and not be deceptive. “I don’t care if Tamara steps aside or not. My main intent is merely to present Evan in a good light to her. That wouldn’t be deceptive because I think he is a fine person. She just needs to realize that the brotherly affection she felt for him is more than that, like how Grandma realized it about Grandpa.”
    “Okay, Maggie, I’ll go along,” Ellie said. “And if I see things get out of hand, I will say something.”
    “I can always count on you to be my conscience,” Maggie said sarcastically.
    They reached the Stoddards’, and Sarah welcomed them at the door. They weren’t expected, but visits were always welcome in the little community. Mrs. Stoddard, Sarah, and Tamara were busy at work in the kitchen. Three bushels of apples were sitting on the floor, and Sarah and Tamara were paring and coring them while Mrs. Stoddard was slicing them up to place on drying racks. Ellie and Maggie offered their help and were immediately given paring knives.
    “We haven’t got our apples yet,” Ellie said, “but Mama warned us we will be busy next week.”
    “Soon as this batch is done,” Mrs. Stoddard suggested, “we will do some apple butter.”
    “You do make the best apple butter, Mrs. Stoddard,” Maggie put in. She didn’t care if it was shameless flattery. No one but Ellie would guess.
    “I have so enjoyed all the domestic chores since I’ve come here,” Tamara said. “I have never dried an apple or cooked hardly anything.”
    “Never cooked?” Maggie asked, clearly astonished. “What do you do with yourself all day in Portland?”
    “Maggie, don’t be rude,” reproved Mrs. Stoddard, as if she were Maggie’s mother.
    “That’s all right,” Tamara replied. “She has a right to be surprised. It does sound terribly lazy, and I am rather ashamed.”
    “You have many other talents, my dear,” Mrs. Stoddard said.
    “Tamara is an accomplished pianist,” Sarah put in meekly. “She is also an excellent violinist.”
    “Really?” Maggie knew she couldn’t compete with that because she could barely carry a tune much less play a musical instrument. “Do you stitch?” Maggie held her breath waiting for the dreaded answer.
    “I do a little