Sister Dear

by Hannah Mary McKinnon

  “Eleanor? It’s Victoria.” Her voice sounded eager, as if she were a six-year-old kid who’d woken up on Christmas morning to find Santa’s entire bag of loot under the tree. “I’m so excited to talk to you about the designs you sent. You did them so quickly. I couldn’t stop looking at them over breakfast. They’re fantastic—”

  “Thank you—”

  “No, thank you. My favorite is the third one, the green-and-white layout with the pale gray? It’s gorgeous. Seriously, Eleanor, you’re so talented. I’d never have come up with anything close to this in a million years, and—” She stopped, sighed and said, “I’m babbling, aren’t I? I always babble when I’m excited.”

  I laughed, her enthusiasm for my work infectious and welcome. “I’m glad you like it so much. Is there anything you’d want me to change? The font, or maybe the—”

  “Oh, no. It’s perfect. Wait until I show Hugh and my parents.”

  “Your parents?”

  “Uh-huh, they’ll be so impressed, especially my dad. You know...I bet I could convince him to let you do some of the designs to market their new properties, because—”

  “Oh, no, I don’t think he’d—”

  “What? Go for a small company because his is huge? Wait until he sees what you do. He’ll change his tune.”

  I wanted to beg her to not mention my name to him at all for fear he’d make her cut ties, but doing so would invite far too many questions. “I’m a bit swamped right now,” I said, “and I wouldn’t want to blow that opportunity. Thanks, though. Can I let you know when I’m ready?”

  “Sure, whenever you want. And you’re welcome. That’s what friends are for.”

  The word friends bounced around my skull, filling it with joy, turning me into the kid at Christmas. “I owe you another thank-you,” she continued, unaware of the loop-de-loops my emotions were flying inside me. “I can’t tell you how glad I am things worked out with Hugh. He’s so happy.” The relief in her voice felt thick, rich and luscious enough to cut with a knife and serve on a plate.

  “Like you said, that’s what friends are for,” I said, a slight wobble in my voice.

  “Exactly right. So, tell me, what are you doing today? It’d better be something good considering it’s your last day of freedom before Hugh buries you in work for all eternity.”

  “Oh, not much. I haven’t really thought about it. How about you?”

  “I have the day off. I was supposed to go to the spa with my cousin Charlotte. We had this whole thing planned, but she can’t make it.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said, remembering the conversation I’d overheard in the bathroom at Le Médaillon and wondering if Charlotte’s husband’s affair had anything to do with her backing out. Maybe Madeleine or Victoria had decided to tell her about his indiscretions, after all.

  “Honestly, I feel terrible, seeing as it’s all my fault...”

  “Your fault?” I said, my attention snapping back to her.

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I convinced her to go roller-skating yesterday. We used to go all the time when we were kids, but it seems our muscle memory wasn’t as good as we’d hoped, well, not mine at least. Long story short, I lost my balance, and when I stupidly grabbed hold of her to steady myself, she went down, too.”

  “Oh, no. Is she hurt?”

  “She chipped a bone on her ankle and has to wear this boot thing for a few weeks. She says she’s not in much pain, but it could be the drugs talking. I feel awful. I’m trying to think of a thousand ways to make it up to her. I’ve sent flowers and chocolates and a dozen bottles of her favorite wine, but it doesn’t seem enough, you know?”

  “Accidents happen, though, it wasn’t your fault,” I said, and as automatic as the words might have been leaving my mouth, I meant them. “I bet she feels the same.”

  “You’re incredibly sweet,” she said brightly. “Well, thanks again for the designs. I’d better leave you to your day. Unless...” She laughed. “No, that’s silly.”

  “What is?”

  “Well...what if we went to the spa together? Unless you think it’s weird?”

  “Uh, well, I—”

  “We could chat more about the business. I’d love to have your input and ideas on marketing and promotion, you know, things you’ve done, and—”

  “But what about your cousin? I mean, won’t she mind?” I said, my heart thumping, bounding around my chest as if my rib cage were a xylophone.

  “Not at all,” Victoria said. “She’s already made me promise to take her as soon as she feels up to it again. Actually, I’ll organize a pampering weekend in Vermont as a surprise. Anyway, I thought about canceling today’s reservation as it’s for two people, but we could... No, I’m sorry. Of course you don’t want to. See? I’m full of stupid ideas. I’ll—”

  “Yes, I mean, no, I mean—” I made myself slow down. “I’d love to go with you.”

  “You would? Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. But we could have a facial and a mani-pedi. What do you think?”

  No clue how much all of this would cost, but as long as I didn’t have to get naked in front of anyone, especially Victoria, I didn’t care. The prospect of spending more time with her, and so soon, was too exciting. “Perfect. Tell me where to meet you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  FOUR HOURS LATER I’D been primped, pruned and plucked within an inch of my life. Victoria and I sat at the spa’s on-site café, eating quinoa energy bowls and drinking an odd-looking green juice my brain knew was stuffed with spinach and kale, but my taste buds insisted was strawberries. I’d never had a juice so satisfying or, at twelve bucks a glass, so expensive.

  “Thanks for coming with me, Eleanor, I really needed a day to unwind,” Victoria said, wrapping herself more tightly in her plush pink bathrobe. They were so thick, I’d almost melted into mine as if it were a marshmallow, reveling in its warmth and luxury, a contrast to my threadbare one at home, which sandpapered my skin if I rubbed too hard.

  “I’m still not happy about you paying for it all,” I said with a shake of my head.

  Victoria shook hers more emphatically. “Not at all. I invited you.”

  It had felt strange, at first, walking into the spa. All of the beauticians wore spotless white uniforms, which I couldn’t fathom how they kept clean, and talked quietly, barely making a sound as they drifted across the white tile floor. Instrumental panpipe music played so softly it made me want to put my head down on the reception desk and go to sleep with the gentle aroma of eucalyptus wafting up my nose.

  “I’ve never been to a spa before,” I’d whispered to Victoria as the receptionist finalized our reservation and went to fetch our robes.

  “You mean this one?” Victoria said.

  “No,” I answered, my cheeks flushing. “I mean any spa. I’ve only been to the nail salon down the street, and I think that was about three years ago.”

  “Seriously?” She looked at me, and I could tell from her expression she wasn’t sure if I meant it or was making some kind of pointless joke. “You’ve never...” When I shook my head again, she turned to the receptionist, who’d walked back in, grinned widely and said, “Could we upgrade to the half-day package, please? For the both of us, and lunch, too?”

  Panicking, I put my hand on Victoria’s arm. “Oh, no. I can’t afford—”

  “And everything’s on my bill,” she continued, smoothly sliding her card across the desk.

  I’d protested, but Victoria fobbed me off, insisting it was her idea, therefore it should be her treat. Looking at her now, I couldn’t believe her generosity. A few days ago I’d have grumbled about her flashing her wealth around, but that wasn’t her angle. It was kindness.

  She let out a languid sigh and took another sip of green juice before pulling a face. “Sorry again for walking in on you in the changing ro
om. I thought you were ready.”

  More heat shot to my cheeks as I remembered standing in front of her, a hand over my naked breasts, her mouth in an O of surprise. “Uh, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  She winked at me. “Cute underwear, though. Where did you get it?”

  I couldn’t stop myself from giggling, my embarrassment melting away. “Gosh, I can’t remember. Most of my underwear is the same. I’ve got a thing for polka dots.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got—” I counted on my fingers “—gloves, pajamas, a scarf, an umbrella, mugs and plates. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Okay, spill. What’s with the spotty obsession?”

  “Apparently it started when I got the chicken pox as a kid, would you believe? I watched 101 Dalmatians on a loop with...with my dad, and we counted my spots over and over. After they faded, I was so sad we drew them on with a pen. I’ve had a thing for polka dots ever since.”

  “How sweet. And your dad sounds fun.” She must have seen my face fall. “What’s wrong? Eleanor, are you okay?”

  “He passed away,” I said quietly. “Cancer. Nearly three weeks ago.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You poor thing.”

  “It’s been awful. And I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I got mugged on the way home that night and ended up in the hospital.”

  “What?”

  “This guy came up from behind me, punched me like this—” I demonstrated with my hands “—and he hit my head on the ground. I didn’t even have any cash on me. I’d forgotten my bag at my dad’s hospice.”

  “I can’t believe it. Thank goodness he didn’t do more damage, and I’m so sorry about your dad. Do you still have your mom? Does she live in the area?”

  “We don’t get along or speak anymore.”

  “Oh, Eleanor.” Victoria leaned across the table and put her hand on mine. “That must be so hard. I can’t imagine losing my dad and not talking to my mom. She’s always been my rock. Do you have any siblings? A brother or sister you can confide in?”

  Two virtual paths leading in different directions appeared in front of me, one labeled Truth, the other Lies. I wanted to pick the former, I really did, but if I told her who I was, I risked losing my contract with her, and the job with Hugh, and I needed the money. Except it was by far the prospect of losing Victoria now that terrified me the most. She’d learn I’d betrayed her trust, and our budding friendship wasn’t solid enough to withstand my disloyalty. Up until that point, I hadn’t realized how much I, well, cared.

  I expelled the air from my lungs in an emphatic whoosh before answering, “A sister in LA. She’s an actor.”

  “Is she? How exciting.”

  “She’s keeps saying her big break’s around the corner. Maybe it’ll happen.”

  Victoria looked at me, took a sip of her drink. “You don’t approve of her career choice?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not about her job. We’ve never been close, either. We have nothing in common and barely speak.”

  “Well, you know what they say,” Victoria tutted. “You can’t choose your family.”

  I looked at her, almost opened my mouth to tell her she was wrong, I could choose, in this very moment. Instead, I was going to ask how it was growing up as an only child, remembering just in time I wasn’t supposed to know anything about her, not officially, anyway.

  “Do you have siblings?” I said.

  “No,” she said before looking down in her lap. “I always wished for a sister, someone to share secrets with or lament about my parents to. Although there wasn’t anything to lament about, to be honest. My childhood was great and I’ve led an überspoiled life. I know how firmly I’m sitting in the white privilege, rich brat camp.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t—”

  She waved a hand. “It’s okay. I’m well aware of the bucket of luck I was handed at birth. The point is to do something good with it all, right? To make it meaningful and help those less fortunate without coming across as an insensitive, snotty bitch.”

  “You definitely don’t,” I said, hoping the reason she’d invited me to the spa wasn’t because she saw me as a pro bono project. I didn’t ask in case she said yes.

  “Thank you, I really appreciate you saying that.” She glanced at her phone. I noticed she did so a lot, not in an I-must-check-social-media-all-day way, but with a worrying look crossing her face every time.

  “Hugh’s going to let me know if he’s working late tonight,” she said when she caught me staring at her. “I’m usually home when he gets back. He hates walking into an empty house and... Oh, would you listen to me? I’m not a fifties housewife.” She put her head back and laughed but it was a smidgen too hard, too loud, more than enough to make me wonder once more whether something was off between them.

  When I looked at her again, her eyes had gone shiny, so I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Hey, is everything okay?”

  She looked at me and blinked, and at first I thought she was going to tell me everything was fine but instead she bit her lower lip, her eyes now brimming with tears. “We’re, uh, having a bit of a tough time. We...we’ve been trying for a baby. It’s not going well.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I shifted in my seat, not quite sure how to handle such an intimate confession. “Uh, have you been trying long?”

  “Long enough. Since we got married. Call me naive, but I thought it would happen right away, because it did for my friends. God, if I hear ‘we weren’t even trying’ one more time, I think I’ll scream.”

  “These things can take time, though, right?”

  “Yes, they can,” she said. “But it’s been a while and both of us had tests done, which indicated some issues, and I...I miscarried in February.”

  “I’m so sorry,”

  Victoria nodded. “Thanks. I was only a few weeks along, the doctor said, but it didn’t make it any easier.” She tried a smile but it turned into a lopsided grimace. “I found out the day before, but for those twenty-four hours, I was so happy. Finally, finally I’d have a baby, the one thing I knew would...I don’t know, make things better.” She closed her eyes and exhaled, her breath coming out in a shaky stream.

  “What did Hugh say when—”

  Her eyes flew open. “I never told him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because...because I felt so useless and I couldn’t stand him thinking I’m not the perfect wife.” Her eyes went wide as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry, I’m way out of line. He’s your boss now, and—”

  “You’re my friend,” I said quickly, surprising myself with the statement. “Right now I’d say that’s more important.”

  “You’re so lovely, Eleanor,” she said, looking less flustered. “Honestly, I’m at the point where I’m wondering if the whole baby thing will happen for me at all. It’s also why I’m starting my own business, it’ll give my mind something else to focus on. Hugh thinks I’m crazy. He says I’ll launch the company, get pregnant and then be more stressed than I am now.”

  “It’s not up to him, though, is it?” It came out with more indignation than I’d intended. “I mean, you said it yourself, it’s not the fifties. It’s your career. You can do what you want.”

  “He worries about me, is all. He loves me.”

  I wasn’t convinced. The way she looked down when she said his name, how she wanted to be at home when he got back from work, how he’d called when we were at Jake’s Cakes, claiming to have a headache. I knew how a control freak could be, I’d been raised by one. I looked at her, thinking it was odd, being this close—hearing her speak, picking up on her body language—kind of like examining an antique porcelain vase. From afar it looked perfect, but as you got closer, the hairline cracks became visible, the paint a little more faded. Except it didn’t take away any
of Victoria’s beauty; in fact, it added to it, it made her human.

  “He’s so busy at work, too,” she said. “You’ll probably see him more than me. No wonder I’m not getting pregnant.” She let out a laugh and covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, crap. Please don’t tell him I was that crass, or that we talked about any of this at all—”

  “Of course not.”

  “Here I am, complaining about my life when he’s had it so much harder...” She sighed, must have decided she owed me more of an explanation. “I’m not his first wife, you see. He was married before, but...she passed away.”

  I felt my eyes go wide, and this time I didn’t need to pretend. I hadn’t seen anything about Hugh’s first wife online; then again I’d focused almost a hundred percent of my spying mission on Victoria’s life, not his. “Oh, my God, that’s awful.”

  “It was terrible.”

  “Can I ask what happened? Was she sick? She must’ve been so young.”

  Victoria shook her head, whispered, “Natalie died in a fire at their home.”

  “Jesus, that’s horrific.”

  “Truly, truly awful. A group of us were out that night—”

  “You knew her, too?”

  “Oh, yes, she was my cousin Charlotte’s best friend and...” She stopped talking and pulled a face. “I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s not my story to share and I don’t think Hugh would want me to.”

  “It’s okay, I understand.” There it was again. The evasiveness, the subtle anxiety.

  She smiled. “Thank you. Let’s lighten the mood, shall we? Why don’t you tell me about your love life instead? What’s going on in the dating world these days? I’m out of touch.”

  I let out a half snort. “There’s a conversation that’ll take five seconds.”

  “Oh, come on. There must be someone special in your life.”