“Why?”
“Because right after the eclipse in Suriname, we pinky-promised each other that we'd experience the eclipse coming to our hometown, far in the future, together. That eclipse will occur this fall and I'm asking you to consider watching it with me.”
“You traveled here because you want to fulfill a pinky-promise?”
“Yes.”
Isobel regarded her with disbelief. “Decades have passed. I divorced Felix and married again. I raised my children. I built my career. But you realize, right, that thanks to your actions, I'm still mostly known as the wife who was wronged by my husband and sister. That's how I will always be known.”
When it came out that Felix had cheated on Fiona, too, God had forced her to taste some of the pain she'd inflicted. It had been soul-destroying. She wouldn't claim to comprehend Isobel's experience, though. Because, while the housekeeper Nicole had been Fiona's best friend, the housekeeper had not been her sister. And unlike the situation between Isobel, Felix, and Fiona—Felix had not gone on to marry Nicole.
“I know I can't have a sister relationship with you ever again,” Fiona said. “But Mom and Dad are in their mid-eighties. I'm not sure how much longer we'll have them.” It might be a low blow to play the mom-and-dad card. Yet the mom-and-dad card was also one hundred percent valid. “I think it would mean a lot to them if we could exist in the same room together from now on.”
“I don't think you have the right to ask me for anything.” Isobel's knuckles showed white where she gripped her bag. “Don't come here again. Don't ambush me anywhere.”
Fiona dipped her head in silent agreement.
Isobel disappeared into the backseat of the limo. Seconds later, it slid away, and Fiona was left on the sidewalk in her power suit.
That had been stomach-churning, emotion-heaving, pride-shredding awful.
Yet, she'd broken the stalemate between herself and her sister. She'd addressed the scariest of the crouching lions in her life, the lion she'd been avoiding and pretending to ignore all these years. The one that stirred the most shame inside her.
The next move was Isobel's.
Fiona scanned the oncoming traffic for a cab with its top lights lit. She'd go home to Maine now and see Burke. It surprised her how much that appealed. She could sit on his sofa in front of the fire with a glass of wine. He would listen, empathize, encourage.
By late this afternoon. She could be there. With him.
* * *
Gemma sank low in the water of her nightly bath, until only her face hovered above the water line.
She had died—died!—when Jude had spoken poetry so solemnly while looking right at her last night. When she’d pulled up to his car in the strip mall, she'd thought that he looked like a poet. And then he'dspoken poetry to her. The line about how he was hers unto death had tempted her to drag him to the nearest altar for a rush-job wedding.
She knew he'd only quoted romantic poetry because he was being a good little soldier and trying to perform his undercover role with excellence. Still. That had been reckless!
Gemma. Divert yourself with thoughts of your actual boyfriend.
More and more with Chaz, out of sight was becoming out of mind.
She sloshed upward in the bath. Opening the Photos app on her phone, she found pictures of them the last time they’d been together, in New York in early February. He was six years older than she was, which she liked because those extra years had given Chaz time to establish his career. He didn't have the tang of a boy bouncing from job to job because no one deigned to hand over the respect or salary he “deserved.” He was independent. Not needy. And with his sunny disposition, not given to pouting.
She flicked over to her text messages and pulled up their most recent exchange. He'd sent her more gym selfies and another pun.
Chaz
A pirate's favorite workout is the plank.
Lately, he'd been lobbying her to come and see him in New York again even though she'd made it clear that it was his turn to come and see her. He'd remained noncommittal and she hadn't pressured him.
Dating Chaz was just so easy.
There had been times in her life when she’d experienced mountain peaks of infatuation, like the time that had inspired her to create Hope and Spice. Her boyfriend then had been named Garrett—a guitarist with long hair and a penchant for bomber jackets. He'd been bold and intense and creative, and she'd been absolutely crazy about him for a time.
But her infatuation for him and the others had eventually come to a stop on the downhill side of the mountain. A few relationships she'd ended because it had become apparent that her boyfriend was a jerk, as had been the case with Garrett. A few relationships had ended because they'd fizzled into boredom. Two relationships had ended because her boyfriend had broken her heart. Those two times, she'd wallowed in drama and sorrow.
Then her father had been arrested and her mother had suffered a stroke and for the first time in her life she'd tastedrealpain. It had been awful. She had the capacity to feel emotions deeply. And though she wasn't afraid of much, shewasafraid of setting herself up for that level of pain again because she understood that it could ruin her.
