Something About Sophie by Mary Kay McComas

comfy chairs at a tiny table near the window at The Book Nook—a charming book-and-coffee enterprise they’d stepped into to scout out a copy of an older book title by an author they both loved that Sophie hadn’t yet read. They discovered this commonality while browsing The Mystic Maiden, an eclectic establishment with everything from gemstone jewelry—humming over many of the same pieces but buying none—to caftans to incense and amusing bumper stickers that brought them to near tears with giggles. They had much in common.
    â€œMother wanted me to take you to lunch at her club out at the golf course, but I could see right away you weren’t the type.”
    It wasn’t meant to be an insult, but the question had to be asked, “How could you tell?”
    â€œEasy. Drew likes you, so that would make it highly unlikely that you’re the country club type. But I liked you, too, right off, so that’s a definite no way . Now, if you were a friend of Pam or Billy’s, that would be an unlikely story right from the start.”
    â€œWho are they?”
    â€œYou and Drew really haven’t had much time to talk at all, have you? Not even the basic sibling stuff?”
    â€œI knew about you, from the funeral. And your mother. Your father’s a doctor, too, and your grandfather was a huge Wahoo.”
    â€œThat’s it? Surface dust,” she scoffed. “Oh, where to start. . . .” She laughed. “And where to stop before I blow Drew’s chances with you.”
    Despite the way her heart rate kicked up, Sophie shook her head. “I’m going home soon. Chances are you won’t be blowing anything.”
    â€œThen why are they called chances?” She smirked knowingly. “So now . . . you should know that we McCarrens are pretty much it as far as Clearfield royalty goes. There are others in our league, of course, or my mother would be sitting in her club all alone, but as far as our pedigree goes: none’s more pure. My mother’s family, the Kingstons, were here before the Blue Ridge Mountains. Prosperous, civic-minded farmers for several generations. Abolitionism brought us back to earth, so to speak, but we managed quite well until the modern marvels of farming required fewer and fewer family members to run a large farm. That’s when brave, adventurous Kingstons—like myself—ventured forth into the rest of the world and for the most part fell off the family tree altogether. Except for my mother’s branch, of course. They stayed and eventually contributed a senator to the great Commonwealth of Virginia. A Governor, too, way back when. A Republican, so we don’t talk about him much, but still. . . .” She shrugged. “My grandpa and his younger brother, Charles . . . better known in town as Chucky . . . or to us kids as Uncle Chuckle,” she giggled. “Anyway, they took turns being mayor of Clearfield for many years.” It was plainly a favorite family joke. “They were a pair.” She shook her head, remembering. “Where was I? Oh. My dad. He’s old Massachusetts money. He says the only reason Mother went to college was to catch herself a rich husband and he walked straight into her trap. And for some reason that completely escapes me, he adores her. Even now.”
    â€œYou know, you and your brother don’t sound like you like your mother very much.”
    â€œDon’t be silly, we love her dearly—even if she is the world’s biggest pain in the ass.” Sophie gasped and laughed at the same time, while Ava simply sighed, disgruntled. “Oh, she’s okay. She’s just into everything and everybody’s business all the time. Anywhere else she’d be labeled a nosy busybody, but here, in the upper echelons of this rinky-dink town, she’s a solid citizen, a pillar of public service, an involved parent, a concerned neighbor, a