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)
“Oh.” I looked over the picture again, searching for any sign of Lina’s pregnancy under the thick puffer jacket and finding none. “She would have been seven months pregnant.”
“Right.” She took out her phone, pulling up the internet. “And I remembered that I’d been on spring break from NYU that week and Mom wouldn’t let me go with her. Said she needed the one-on-one time to get Lina’s head on straight because she was only in the studio company. She was disappointed that she wasn’t an apprentice yet, let alone corps.” She turned the phone around to show me the cast for that season. “Lina isn’t on it.” She flipped back a few programs to the fall. “She’s here.” Flip. “And here.” Nutcracker. “Even there—‘Lina Rousseau, Studio Company.’ Then she disappears. Mom brought that picture home, but Lina isn’t listed in the program.”
“They staged the picture.” My heart started to pound. “Mom knew about Juniper.”
Anne nodded. “Get dressed.”
Chapter Thirteen
Allie
User45018: Of course they got in. Look who their mother is.
CassidyFairchilde1: Maybe she opened doors but they kept themselves in the room.
“Annelli Myers and Alessandra Rousseau to see Sophie Rousseau,” Anne said to the guard stationed outside the Brookesfield Institute.
His pinched face disappeared beneath a black ball cap as he looked at his tablet, then reappeared. “Go on ahead.”
“Thank you,” Anne replied, then rolled up the window on the Mercedes as the gate ahead of us opened. The lawn was thick and green inside the circular drive, the hedges trimmed to perfection along the right side of the driveway as we drove the quarter mile up to the sprawling estate my mother had determined would be her home. It was a Gilded Age mansion, built by some oil tycoon over a hundred years ago and renovated in the last few decades.
Anne parked in the small lot beside the north wing, and we climbed out, both taking a second to stretch. It wasn’t a bad drive, only about an hour and a half from Haven Cove down the coast, but I had a suspicion Anne had clenched the whole way here, just like me.
“You ready?” she asked, clenching the strap of her purse.
“Ready enough. Let’s go.” I slung my small bag over my head to hang cross-body, and we walked along the winding sidewalk, up the wide stone steps, and through the pillars onto the porch.
My phone vibrated while we were waiting to be buzzed in, and I quickly checked the text message.
Hudson: Still on for the beach tomorrow?
Right, that was tomorrow. Just thinking about it made me tired.
“Everything all right?” Anne asked, lifting her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“Hudson wants to know if I’m still up for family fun at the beach tomorrow.” My thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
“Are you?” Her brow knit with worry.
It was hard to explain how the thought of making myself presentable two days in a row, of the effort it took to appear like I was enjoying myself because that’s what everyone expected, was daunting as hell. It was one of the reasons I’d left New York for the beach house. “Yeah. It will be good to see Juniper.”
And Hudson.
The door buzzed twice, and Anne opened it. We walked into the marble foyer, complete with Roman statuary, and handed over our IDs to sign in. There were only four people Mom would allow to disturb her.
Then we waited.
Allie: Will there be verbal fisticuffs involved?
Hudson: Only you would use the word fisticuffs.
Allie: Not an answer.
Hudson: Caroline will be on her best behavior.
Best behavior meaning maybe she’d stick to just glaring at me.
Allie: I’ll be there.
Hudson: Pick you up at noon.
Like a date, because we were supposed to be dating.
Allie: Ok.
I slipped my phone into my back pocket.
“It’s quiet,” Anne noted, glancing down the empty hallway to the right, then left. “Classes must be in session.”
“When’s the last time you were here?” I smoothed the lines of my black blouse, but there was nothing to be done about the wrinkles in my shorts from sitting on the drive.
“Last weekend.” Anne smiled as a woman with a flawless bun and clipboard hurried by. “You?”
“A little over a month.” I splayed my hands, checking that I’d scrubbed all the dirt from under my nails. “She let me stay long enough to express her disappointment, then kicked me out. Said she was late to teach.”
“Sounds about right,” Anne muttered as Rachel—the newest of Mom’s minions—came down the wide carpeted staircase in front of us. “She’s going to be angry that we’re here on a weekday.”
“It’s so good to see you girls!” Rachel exclaimed, her smile crinkling the edges of her eyes and mouth. Her light-blue sweater matched her eyes, and her red hair was pulled into a neat bun. “She has some time before her next session. Why don’t you come on up?” She led us up the carpeted steps, curving at the landing, then continuing to the second floor.