Ivy sniffed and put her elbows on the front desk.From where Celia stood, and with the candlelight flickering across their faces, she felt that she saw her sister thirty years down the road: aged seventy at least and worn down by the world.She fought the urge to go over and throw her arms around her, to tell her to stop acting this way.But they were all behaving strangely.How could they fix it?
“When did he stop taking guests?”Celia asked finally.
“It’s been about five years,” Ivy said.“It got to be too much.I did what I could, but it was just the two of us, and yeah, we couldn’t afford any of the repairs that needed to be done.We couldn’t afford to bring anyone on to help.We were always fully booked as kids.But soon, we couldn’t fill all the rooms.Not even on the Fourth of July.And the internet!All that social media that people use now?It got to be too much to keep up with.”
It seemed that Ivy would never get off the topic of it being “just the two of them” for so long.Guilt churned in Celia’s stomach.Juliet gave Ivy a look that Celia thought meant,You couldn’t handle the internet?Social media?Are you a child?
Suddenly, Wren wobbled in the middle of the room, reached for the edge of a sofa, missed her grip, and collapsed on the hardwood floor.It happened so swiftly that none of them knew what to do.Celia dropped to her knees and touched Wren’s shoulder.“Honey, are you all right?”
Wren looked terribly embarrassed.She scrunched up her face and pressed her palms to the ground.“I’m fine,” she said stiffly.“I didn’t eat much, I guess.And the plane made me dehydrated.”
Celia glanced at Juliet and Ivy, whose faces were etched with nerves.They needed to find a way to talk to one another without this horrible darkness between them.Maybe they would never get along again.Perhaps they couldn’t overcome the past.But Randall was right—some conversations needed to be had.
“I guess that’s our cue to eat something,” Celia said finally.
“I don’t want to go anywhere.”Juliet sniffed.“I don’t want everyone to stare at us, knowing what we’ve been through.”
“Or worse, ready to come up and ask us questions about ourselves,” Wren muttered.
Celia felt Juliet and Wren had a point.She imagined them out at a restaurant, studying the menu quietly, eyeing one another, waiting for the first to throw an insult or ask a question they couldn’t return from.She imagined them on display.Maybe we really are our father’s daughters,she thought darkly.
But then, for the second time today, Juliet surprised her.“We could go to my hotel room.I have plenty of space, and the restaurant there is renowned.We could order in.”
Wren nodded and closed her eyes.“It sounds cozy.”She looked even more exhausted by the second.
Celia bit her tongue to keep from telling her little sister to take care of herself.
Ivy called two cabs that took them in pairs to Juliet’s hotel.Juliet and Ivy got in the first cab, while Celia led little Wren to the second.As Wren buckled herself in, Celia bit her tongue to keep from asking Wren what she’d been up to lately and where she’d been.Wren was their vagabond child, the one most like Celia in her recklessness.But, according to what Celia had gleaned from social media, Wren had never picked a career.She’d never stayed long with a boyfriend or committed to any sort of life.Now that Wren was thirty-four, Celia wondered if she felt overly reckless, nervous about her next steps.
Not that anything in Celia’s life had “worked out,” per se.She had Sophie to show for it all, and a tremendous amount of love in her heart for her daughter, but that was about it.
“How are you doing?”Celia braved to ask Wren as they drove to the hotel.
“I’m just hungry and sort of thirsty, I guess,” Wren said.“I’ll be fine.”
“Where did you fly in from?”
Wren squeezed her knees, as though contemplating what to answer.“I flew in from Paris.”
“Paris!”Celia pictured her littlest sister on the steps of the Sacre-Coeur, bathed in Parisian spring light, perhaps kissing a Frenchman, a baguette in her hand.“I’ve been there a few times for their environmental summits.The French actually seem to care about our future.Oh, but we always had such a great time.”Celia could practically taste red wine on her tongue.But that was back when Celia’s career was blossoming, and editors paid top dollar for environmental pieces that demanded more of the world and corporations.
Wren lent Celia a half smile and seemed about to say something, to share a story, maybe, from her vagabond life.It was a life Celia knew so little about.But then the cab stopped at Juliet’s hotel, and Juliet opened the cab door to help Wren out.
Just as Celia had suspected, Juliet’s hotel room was like something from a Manhattan catalog: white-walled and shining with large french windows that looked out at the cliffside and the ocean and a moon hanging like a fruit from the night sky.Wren let out a soft sigh and sat at the edge of Juliet’s California King bed, gazing out.
“I can’t believe we were raised here,” she said.
“I keep thinking that too,” Celia offered.
Ivy gave Celia a dark look and passed the menu to Wren.Juliet searched through the minibar before deciding they’d better order a bottle of wine to be brought with dinner.Wren insisted that she didn’t need much, just a grilled cheese, maybe, which made Ivy take over and order them what amounted to a feast: vegetables and roasted chicken and steak and pasta, all of it to share.“We’ll put it on Dad’s tab,” she said, referring to the tiny inheritance they were allowed, even if they didn’t take over the inn and ultimately sell it.Juliet and Celia caught one another’s gaze but said nothing.Ivy seemed bent on proving something.
But despite their anger and anxiety toward one another, when the food came, they managed to sit cozily and at ease, at least for a little while.They propped up their plates on their thighs, gazed at the moon, drank wine, and ate.Celia was reminded of long, long ago, when their father had worked late at the Bluebell Cove Inn, and she’d been made to cook for all of the sisters.But often she’d let them all eat in the living room, on the sofa, with the television running.That was never allowed when their father was home.
It surprised Celia to realize how much she’d missed her sisters, although she knew that the version of her sisters she’d once known no longer existed.The version of Celia she’d once been didn’t exist either.She wondered who they were to each other now that so much of their lives were gone but knew better than to ask it aloud.
“Someone will want the inn,” Juliet said suddenly, putting her fork down on her plate.“Someone will pay a lot for it.I mean, the location alone is insane.”
“No question,” Wren agreed.Color had returned to her cheeks, but her eyes were only half open, as though eating had demanded much more of her than it had of the others.Celia decided to chalk it up to jet lag.
