Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Eva, Kenna, and Anne sat at the island, eating a late breakfast in front of a stack of manila envelopes, and all three of them fell silent and stared as I went to the refrigerator.
“You ready to start handling paperwork?” Anne asked. “You don’t have to decide which company—”
Fuck it. It wasn’t like I needed to plan my life around Hudson anymore. “I’ll sign with MBC. I need something normal in my life.”
Eva’s shoulders dipped with relief.
“Make Vasily wait a week or two,” Eloise suggested, peeling her orange. “Let him sweat it out.”
“Good idea.” I took a bottle of water from the refrigerator.
“Didn’t see you when we got home after the reception,” Kenna noted, her gaze leery. “Or at all this morning.”
“Nope.” I twisted the top and drank half of it down. How was I supposed to explain any of this to them when I didn’t even know for certain that what Hudson told me was true . . .
“Okay, did you want to run the papers over to Caroline?” Anne asked. Anne. She’d been put in charge of the family paperwork.
I leaned back against the counter next to the sink. “Anne, did you see Hudson with Lina the morning of the Classic?”
Eva’s eyebrows hit the ceiling, and Kenna and Eloise both shifted their attention to Anne.
She cleared her throat and set her spoon down in her bowl of oatmeal. “Yes.”
“And they looked all secretive, like they were up to something?” I took another drink.
“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “And I told him if he did something to hurt you that I’d tell you. I wouldn’t keep my mouth shut this time.”
“This time?” I sputtered a wry laugh. “God, if any of you had told me the truth the first time, none of this would be happening.”
“Did he hurt you?” She stiffened.
“Did you read the accident report?” I ignored her question entirely. “From when Lina died?”
The entire room fell silent.
“Yes.” She put her hands in her lap. “About a year ago. I found it in Dad’s office.”
“And when they found Lina’s remains, was her seat belt still fastened?” I tilted my head. “Not the cloth—naturally that would have burned. Was the metal still connected?”
Anne glanced at Eva.
“Eyes here.” I tapped my chest.
Anne gasped. “Is that Lina’s ring?”
“Yes. Was her seat belt still fastened?” I had to know.
“Yes,” Anne answered, looking me in the eye.
My chest constricted. Lina had never gotten out of the car. Hudson had told the truth. “And my door was open.”
“Yes.” She shifted her weight. “It wasn’t your fault, Allie. I know what Mom says, but that’s just grief talking. The detectives noted that the frame was mangled. It was a miracle you were able to force your own door open. Had to have been adrenaline, because none of them could figure out how you did it in your state.”
Anger. Hold on to the anger.
“Simple. I didn’t.”
Anne’s brows rose in silent question.
“We need to see Mom. Right fucking now.”
“Her advisory team met this morning, and it’s just not a good day,” Rachel warned me as I strode down the hallway toward Mom’s suite, Anne scurrying to keep up while Eva took her time.
“It never is,” I replied. The doors didn’t do much to muffle the sound of Tchaikovsky.
“You sure you don’t want to talk about whatever’s bothering you?” Anne asked in a rush. “You were silent the whole way here.”
“Nope. Saving it all for Mom.”
“If you’re sure . . .” Rachel turned the handle and hurried in ahead of me. “Mrs. Rousseau, your daughters are here.”
I walked in behind her, then stared.
Mom was dancing in a black leotard and pale-pink skirt, her left side in perfect alignment, but her right leg wasn’t quite as steady. The incoming weather must have been wreaking havoc on her knee again. But there was no mistaking her grace and elegance as she moved through the choreography. She was still a beautiful dancer.
“Swan Lake,” Anne whispered as she reached my side.
I nodded, watching Mom’s arms, admiring the clean lines, the delicate splay of her fingers, which had never come naturally to me.
“She’s still on demi-pointe,” Eva noted with a touch of wonder.
“You sure you want to interrupt her? She usually uses this time as a reset before her afternoon sessions.” Rachel’s fingers hovered over the stereo system on my left. “One of the staff quit yesterday and she bit off two girls’ heads earlier, screaming in French when they were late to a session. Even I’m only getting one-word answers out of her, and her day is booked.” She clutched the clipboard in her right arm.
“One-word answers work fine for me.” I walked forward, and Mom met my gaze in the mirror.
“Fifth,” she ordered, halting her own dance with a sigh of frustration.
“No.” I stood my ground once I was a few feet away from her.