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love lives. Pickett because she didn't have one; Lyle because she'd been trying to keep her sexual orientation a secret. The habit of confiding in one another during the crucial teenage years had never been formed. Still, Pickett had often wished for a sister who was also a friend, and Lyle had just offered her the perfect opening.
    "You hit a nerve when you called me a sucker," she offered. "I am a soft touch. I was blaming Mother, but the truth is I probably would have gone to the Howells' cottage even without Mother's interference." She opened the refrigerator. "How about some iced tea?"
    "The house wine of the South'?" chortled Lyle, quoting from Steel Magnolias. "Of course I'll have some. People in New York don't know how to make it." She leaned against the worn counter while Pickett ran water over the ancient ice trays.
    "You have too big a heart, kid," Lyle said softly, returning to the previous subject. She gave Pickett a one-armed squeeze. "You know what? I've always been afraid that big heart of yours would lead you to marry some loser just because he needed you."
    In other words, Lyle thought no man would ever want Pickett for herself.
    She thought Pickett was too stupid to avoid being manipulated.
    Pickett kept her eyes on the ice cubes, making sure she put an equal number in each glass, until she had control of her hurt. She fell back on reflective listening. "You think I'm pretty pathetic, don't you? Feeble? Foolishly sentimental?"
    "Feeble? Sentimental? No. But I do think you don't always stand up for yourself. You take care of other people and pretend your own needs don't exist. I think you don't know your own strength or your own power. You will marry someday, and I hope you'll find someone who makes you happy—not just someone who needs you. That's what I meant."
    "No need to worry about who I'll marry." Pickett reached for the tea pitcher, happy to have the conversation back on comfortable ground. "When it comes to marriage I don't mean to sound arrogant, but I do have a PhD in the subject. I know exactly what kind of husband I'm looking for. There are well-documented factors that predict long-term viability. Never fear I will plunge myself into an impossible situation for emotional reasons. I know a lot about the odds for and against a marriage working, and I intend to do everything I can to stack them in my favor."
    "Aren't you looking, first of all, for love? Some people defy the odds. Isn't it love that makes the difference?"
    Pickett set down the heavy crockery pitcher and turned to face her sister. "A year or two doing family therapy on a military base will destroy any romantic notions you ever had about the power of love. Trust me, love won't keep you together if the military is keeping you apart. Respect, affection, trust, shared values, humor, and a strong commitment are far more important than love. Anyway, I'm no hero. It would take more courage than I've got to go up against heavy odds." Pickett waved a dismissive hand, and picked up the pitcher again. "Enough about me, I want to hear about you."
    "No, it's not enough about you. You've told me all about what you think. You haven't said anything about how you feel."
    Pickett paused in the act of pouring tea over ice. How very sensitive of Lyle! "Have you been taking counseling lessons?" she teased.
    "No, you idiot. Unlike you, I don't give a damn about how most people feel, but I do care about you."
    Pickett's head jerked back in surprise. She only opened up to Emmie and a couple of her closest friends. Since she was a great listener, most people never noticed. Until this minute she hadn't known Lyle was one of the people who did.
    Again the urge to unburden herself to Lyle rose up, and again she felt the wistful certainty that she didn't quite dare. "I feel fine," Pickett said, handing one moisture-beaded glass to her sister and taking the other one for herself. "Between seeing clients in my office here, working at the base, and working on the