Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“Did you know,” I started carefully, “it’s a little-known fact, quite a number of husbands leave their wives when they get a terminal disease?”
“Yes. I also know the numbers are not the same the other way around. That’s love, Daphne. For all of us. We decide what to give. What to take. What boundaries to build. When to stay. When to let go. Do you think for a second your father didn’t know at first I married him for his money?”
I wasn’t comfortable talking about this.
“Lou—”
“Answer me.”
I was getting angry. “So you’re telling me he bought your devotion in the end? You may be dealing with some guilt now he’s gone, but I know you better than that.”
“I’m telling you there are ebbs and flows in all relationships. Power shifts. You must know that with how much you love your sister, and how much you put up with from her. You’re in this bed, aren’t you? You didn’t get in your car to drive to London to tell her off or just to go home and let her make her own bed with Daniel.”
“So are you saying I should have forgiven François?”
“No,” she spat. “He was a piece of shit.”
I smiled.
“Why do you think I was saying that?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Because I put up with your father cheating on me?”
Oh God.
I really was not comfortable talking about this.
“Lou,” I groaned.
“That was my bed. And his. And I only mention it because you have to let me lie in it. He was funny. He made me laugh. And oh, how he thought I was beautiful. He’d look at me and convince me I was the most exquisite creature on the planet. Good or bad, right or wrong, that meant something to me. And he gave it to me. In our way, we worked. No one can say whether the way something works is right, or wrong, except the person living it. Just as no one can say when a thing isn’t working, and it should end, except the person ending it.”
“Right, you’re right. But now, are you saying we should let Portia have Daniel without interceding?”
“I think you should tell her what you feel and what you know…carefully,” she warned. “You don’t want to lose her. But then, yes. It’s her decision. This life is her bed to make and lie in.”
“And what about the money?”
“As always, I’ll defer to you on that. Though, I will say your father put a caveat on the money that she can’t have it if she gets involved with an unsavory character.”
“So now you’re saying I should use the money as a weapon to get her to do what I want.”
She shrugged, but then said, “It certainly would be a test of how they feel about each other, both of them, if suddenly that wasn’t part of the equation.”
Oh my God!
Brilliant!
I felt my smile spread so wide, it hurt my mouth. “You’re a genius.”
She pointed to her face, “This is not just pretty.”
“It’s also pretty.”
She pushed up, grabbed the back of my head, kissed the top, then rolled off the bed.
She was halfway to the door when I called, “Lou?”
She turned back.
“My mother was filled with bilious hate, constant. I’d go visit her and that’s all I’d hear, we’d hear when Portia came with me. How much she gave up for him. How much she trusted him. How he’d used her and thrown her away. How men are all evil and selfish. That, coupled with Dad having piles of money, was why she lost custody of me. And then Andrea was a total waste of space.” I drew in breath. “And then there was you.”
I watched her suck in her lips.
She let them go to say a husky, “Stop it.”
“Love you,” I whispered.
“Love you back,” she whispered in return.
Then she left my room.
I woke.
The room was total darkness.
I threw the covers aside, swung out of bed, went to the window, pulled the drapes back, and looked down, searching for Daniel walking into the mist.
Daniel wasn’t there.
Wearing a pale, beaded, flapper’s dress, Virginia Alcott stood outside, looking up at me, those wounded eyes filled with longing. With pain.
I put my hand on the cold glass.
She lifted her hand to her throat.
Her mouth didn’t move, but I heard her words.
What about Joan?
“Joan?” I whispered.
You’re asking the wrong questions. You’re asking about her. You should be asking about me. About Joan. About Rose.
“Rose?”
Light filled the room.
I turned to look toward the door.
Ian stood there, hand out, palm up, stretched toward me.
Don’t take his hand. It’ll be the end of you. They break us. They’ll break you. They broke me. I couldn’t be fixed. Don’t take his hand.
I turned back to Virginia.
“Daphne,” Ian called.
I looked again to him.
Don’t. Don’t take his hand.
“Daphne,” Ian repeated.
You’re not safe. Leave. Go. None of us are safe.