“Ready to get rid of me?” I chuckled awkwardly.
Sage stopped molding a meatball and gave me their undivided attention. “Not at all. If I’m being honest, I love having you here. I’ve missed you.” They shrugged and resumed their work. “Just trying to be supportive.”
“Oh.” An awkward silence fell. “Thanks. I appreciate that. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I want the job. I’m not sure I want to go back to that life at all.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved to hear that.”
“Why?” I finished dicing the onion, carried the cutting board over to the stove, and swept them into a preheated pan.
“I guess I got this sense, especially over the past couple of years, that you weren’t as happy as you used to be. Like the job was taking a toll on you. That was my take from afar, anyway. You worked all the time.”
I snorted. “Like you don’t?”
“Sure, but my job makes me happy. Did yours?”
I sprinkled some dried herbs over the onion and stirred. It was easier to have this conversation without having to look at Sage. “I thought so at the time, but no. Not really. The money was nice, but it wasn’t as if I got to enjoy it.” I stepped back so they could slide a baking sheet of meatballs into the oven.
“If you could do anything, what would it be?” they asked while leaning back against the counter with their arms crossed over their chest.
Just tell them. One less secret to keep.
I stared into Sage’s eyes. “Honestly? Run the diner. I love it.”
Sage’s head jerked back. “For real? I had no idea.”
“I didn’t either until I came home. When we were young, I loved it, but it wasn’t an option for me.”
They frowned. “What do you mean? Of course it was an option. It’s our family’s restaurant.”
This conversation needed a drink, so I pulled two ciders from the fridge. Sage handed me a bottle opener. I took a long swig, then mirrored their pose, leaning against the breakfast bar, facing them.
“I want you to know, I don’t blame you for anything, okay? This isn’t that kind of conversation.”
Sage winced. “That’s not ominous.”
“I say it wasn’t an option for me because as soon as I was old enough to start considering what I wanted to do with my life, the diner was already yours. Mom and Dad, but especially Mom, pushed me to look at colleges farther away and consider a different career.”
Sage ran their fingers through their blond quiff. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
I waved them off. “Nothing to be sorry for. There wasn’t any malicious intent on anyone’s part—I know that. It just happened. Honestly, it never really bothered me, but now that I’ve hit this directionless third-life crisis, I’ve been doing more reflection. Working at the diner is satisfying, and I love talking to all the people.”
Sage laughed. “You’re great at it.” They paused and stared into the distance like they were considering something. Thentheir attention snapped back to me. “Let’s run it together.” The earnestness in their voice made me love my sibling even more.
“Sage, I appreciate that, but no. Sparky’s will be yours someday, and you’ve earned the right to make it your baby. I’ve always loved the idea of working with you, but I think we’ve learned in the past two months that we have different ideas that don’t always align. We both know we’d be one too many cooks in the kitchen, except neither of us are professional cooks, so we’d be arguing over everything else.”
They smiled, but their eyes were troubled. “We could make it work. I’d love to run the business with you after Mom and Dad retire. I had no idea you’d ever be interested.”
“That’s the tricky thing. In theory, I’d love to run it with you, but on the other hand, I don’t want to?”
“Ouch.” They laughed.
I moved back to the stove and stirred the onions, then began adding the other ingredients for the sauce. “It doesn’t have to be a diner. I could run another business where I could talk to people and be a part of the community. It doesn’t have to be Sparky’s.” I tried to put words to the feeling I’d struggled to articulate to myself. “It doesn’t feel like my place. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Sage wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Does that mean you plan to stay?”
“I don’t know yet. I could keep working at Sparky’s for a while and crash here as long as you’ll let me, but I’ll get bored. I need more of a challenge.” I sucked in a shaky breath. “And I don’t know if that exists in Maplewood.”
“We’ll figure something out. You could stay here and commute to Montpelier or even Burlington until you figure things out. Burlington is a lot closer than Boston.”
