Jeannie flipped through her cookbook, trying to remember what page the chocolate cake recipe was on. As many times as she'd used the recipe, she thought she'd have it's location memorized by now. Beverly walked into the kitchen, her laundry basket tucked under one arm. Jeannie didn't take notice at first, but then she had to look up when she heard her sister open the electric icebox. Jeannie watched as Beverly tossed a pair of underwear into the freezer and closed the door.
"What on earth are you doing?"
"You remember in THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH when Marilyn Monroe said one of the ways she kept cool during the heat wave was to stash her undies in the icebox before she put them on? I'm seeing if that works."
"I have the feeling that chill isn't going to hold for very long," Jeannie shifted her weight on the stool and fully faced Beverly, "and for that little trick to work, you're going to have to store several pairs in there and change them every few minutes." Beverly shrugged and opened the door again. She scooped up a handful of undies and stacked them inside. Jeannie shook her head, but she smiled as she did so.
"I'll let you know if it works," Beverly offered, "and I'll be back later to move these down into the refrigerator after they get cold but before they freeze."
"That'll be an interesting sight to explain to any company we have if they open that door for a cold drink."
"You might have a point. Maybe I should get a refrigerator just for my bedroom."
"I'd love to be there when you tell the appliance man why you're having it installed up there."
"I won't have to explain anything," Beverly struck a pose, "if he's a man, he'll do anything I tell him to do without question."
"I know you're a glamor girl and all, but don't you think you're being a little conceited when you say that?"
"It's not conceited if it's true," Beverly smiled to herself, "to quote Phil Harris."
"Alright," Jeannie returned to her cookbook, "but I think you're headed for a swelled head." Beverly scowled. Something snapped when she heard Jeannie sounding superior. That really wasn't Jeannie's intent, but she rarely asserted herself and the sound of something like that challenged the comfortable superiority Beverly often felt, even if Bev refused to admit ever having such thoughts. That feeling of superiority had lingered long enough, however, that it was now ready to give voice.
"Now just a minute, Sis. I admit I'm a spoiled brat most of the time, but I'm not hurting for it. My fan mail is double what yours is, you know." Jeannie popped her eyes. Evidently, she'd struck a nerve. Her eyes narrowed as she turned back to Beverly.
"Your fans only know you through your cartoons, Beverly. They don't live with you like I do. I'm only trying to help you."
"Well!" Beverly was offended now. "Saint Jeannie wants to help me. That makes me feel fuzzy all over."
"If the best insult you can level at someone is to call them a saint, that's not much of an insult."
"Don't be all realistic when I'm trying to fight you!"
"Look, I only wanted to steer you away from developing a personality you wouldn't like to have."
"At least I HAVE a personality!"
"I've had no complaints." Jeannie reservedly returned to her reading material. Beverly was getting steamed, her barbs about as effective as BB shot against a battleship. Beverly stepped forward and snapped up the cookbook.
"You pay attention to me when I'm attacking you!"
"Fine!" Jeannie pushed up her sleeves. Beverly took a step back, her eyes wide. She let the book drop to the floor. She finally got a reaction, which she now realized she never really expected, much less actually wanted. Jeannie got onto her feet and marched toward Beverly.
"Now, Jean, let's not be hasty."
"Oh no, Bev, you want a fight, I'll give you a fight. I've had to put up with your silliness for years. The way you walk around like you're queen of the studio. The way you always push me out of the way when you see a cute boy coming toward us. The way you leave your clothes all over the house because you know I'll pick them up for you. The way you keep calling me a klutz!"
By now, Beverly was backed up against the wall.
"But, but you ARE a klutz! You've joked about it yourself!"
"I've had enough!" Jeannie spun around and began to pace the room. "Your my sister and I love you, but you've got to show me a little respect from time to time! I'll probably never say this again, because sisters put up with each other no matter what, but just once I want to tell you what I really think of you, Beverly!" Jeannie had spun back around to point an accusing finger at Beverly. Beverly was braced for a physical attack. Jeannie was taken aback. She took a breath and relaxed her posture. "I love you."
"What?" Beverly relaxed ever so slightly and looked at Jeannie as she hung her head.
"I love you. You're my sister. Truth is, you are a spoiled brat, but a spoiled brat with a heart of gold. You may not always think out what you're going to say, but when push comes to shove, you always do the right thing. I'm proud of you, Beverly. I'm sorry I lost my head."
"You lost YOUR head?" Beverly was taken completely by surprise at this turn of events. "The truth is, I'M the one who's sorry. I guess I do think too much of myself most of the time. I don't always remember how blessed I am to have you as my sister. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything you've had to put up with. I can't promise I'll change overnight, but I will try to think of your feelings once in a while rather than just my own."
"That's really the only thing siblings ask of each other." Jeannie was still unable to look Bev in the eye. Beverly hugged Jeannie, who was quick to return the embrace. Sometime later that evening, the girls were sitting at the kitchen table.
"That was a really good chocolate cake, Jean. Thank you for baking it."
"Anytime, Bev. By the way, how does the icebox trick work?"
"Better than you'd expect, I think. I should have taken them out of the freezer sooner, though. That was quite an experience."
"So I DID hear a yelp."
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