It had to be a joke.
Yet, everything around her was normal. The kitchen was exactly as she had left it just a few hours ago, dishes in the dish rack, apples in a bowl, the spinning spice rack on the counter.
She took off running down the hallway to Hope’s bedroom. The bed was made but there was nothing on the bedside table and usually Hope had her medications, a phone charger, her glasses, and a water cup there.
Yanking open the closet doors and dresser drawers in Hope’s room, she found them all empty. In the bathroom, all of Hope’s cosmetics and personal items were gone.
Faith wanted to scream, but she knew that if she disturbed the neighbors and police came this could get ugly fast.
Dashing into her own room, she pulled open the top dresser drawer. A wad of cash was there, hundred-dollar bills held together with rubber bands. It was definitely many thousands, but she also recognized right away that it wasn’t enough to live on for very long. It might not even get her that facelift. Hope had millions pouring in from life insurance and she was leaving Faith this tiny amount?
“Nooooo!”Faith cried out. A pounding started in her head. “Fucking bitch!” she said as loud as she dared without the neighbors being disturbed. Running wildly through the house, she opened every drawer and moved each bit of furniture to see if there was more money anywhere. There wasn’t.
Making her way to the kitchen, she slid to the floor, back against the stove, and rocked and moaned. Sobs came. She hadn’t cried like this since Charity’s death, since Hope had told her that she had been the one responsible.
Faith ripped her wig off and hurled it across the room, a visceral noise coming from so deep inside of her she surprised herself with its depth. She couldn’t help it.Please, neighbors,she thought,don’t call the cops.
This was her money. She had made it. She was the one on TV who had done everything needed, from the earring forecast to the videos. She built up equity in the community while Hope accomplished next to nothing. Always leaving her jobs because she hated her bosses, the hours, the duties, her coworkers, you name it. Always drifting around. Now thattwo-faced, conniving scumbag had Faith’s money flowing to her and there wasnothingFaith could do. Hope had her and had her good.
Faith’s mind whipped back to the PS part of the note: Hope telling her not to go public and saying she had recorded their conversation. What had Faith actually said on the bench? It had all seemed so casual, two sisters sharing margaritas and laughs.
Now it came back to her. Hope’s questions:
“You’re still OK with being the one to come up with the idea for Tom’s death? And Matthew rotting in jail for it despite being innocent?”
And Faith’s answers:
“I had to do it. What choice did I have? When someone wrongs you, you have every right to retaliate. That’s how the world works. An eye for an eye. I couldn’t just sit by like a patsy. For once I wasn’t the puppet but the puppet master and it felt so good to be in charge.”
With a sickening revelation she realized she was not the puppet master. Again. She had never been in her life and never would. Hope had been the one pulling the strings all along.
Faith grabbed her purse and took her cell phone out. She pushed the button for Hope’s number but knew already what she would hear, and did:
“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service…”
Anger came like a tsunami but then took a sharp left turn to a deep, deep fear. She was on her own. Her best friend, her sister, gone.
Faith was by herself in Las Vegas and apparently still recognizable. Her only skill was being a television meteorologist, andthat career was shot. She could stay in the condo, as it was paid off, but she couldn’t sell it—it was in Hope’s name.
She and Hope were supposed to live the high life now. They were supposed to be the dynamic duo, never working again but enjoying everything good in this world, from clothes to food to travel. And now Faith was going to be broke soon if she didn’t start working on her own in Sin City, while Hope wined and dined in whatever place she was going to. OnFaith’s money.And Faith was powerless to stop it.
Hope, who had played the scolding, “do what I say,” “I’m smarter than you,” big-sister role for way too long, had outwitted the little sister in one final coup de grâce.
Faith ran to the bathroom and retched into the toilet, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to see what was in the bowl. Flushing, she sank down to the floor and sat there for a long time.
She knew one thing. Shehadto change her appearance. If Olivia ever squealed or if anyone else ever recognized her, it was over. Her mind went from the high-end plastic surgery place to one at a strip mall nearby she had seen ads for.
Nose jobs, chin lifts, eye lifts. Cheap.
In and out in just hours!
She would have to take her chances with some low-level doc whom she hoped had a license.
Her body remained weak from throwing up and felt like an empty sack, but her mind kept zooming ahead, thinking of the next steps to stay hidden.
She would get a job somewhere in Vegas off the Strip and away from tourists. Maybe as a waitress. It was something she had done in college, starting the semester she was kicked out for stealing.
At least she had a place to live. She could stay at the condo and save money with an eye on eventually getting out of town. It was not the path she had expected, but it was clear she would have to figure out an escape. Again. Where she might go, she had no idea. The maps she and Hope had pored over in Gills Rock came to mind. There were endless possibilities, sea to shining sea in this vast country, from coastal towns to farming communities to mountain enclaves to bustling cities to desert oases. Perhaps she could be a nomad and just try them all.
