I must visibly relax, because Daphne stops looking like she’s afraid I’m going to burst into tears. She beckons to me. “Come on, then. I’ll show you your room, and you can get to know the other you.”
Three
Elodie
If I had any doubt about just how different the other Elodie’s life has been from mine, it vanishes the second Aunt Daphne escorts me through the doorway.
“I’ve got the third floor,” she’s saying. “My workroom here, my office, and my bedroom across the hall. Your dad has to travel for his job so much, he wanted you to have family close by. It’s been a good arrangement for all of us, I think.”
The words float through my head without sinking in. I’m too busy gaping at the vast landing with its majestic dark wood railing where the posts are carved in delicate spirals. An antique-looking chandelier shines overhead, brass arms and crystalline shades gleaming. A landscape painting hangs on the wall between the two doorways in an ornate gilded frame that would fit in at an art museum.
And this is just the fuckinghall.
Daphne leads me down a curving staircase to another landing that’s even huger than the one above. “Julien’s away right now—he’s due back on Monday—so you’ll have time to adjust before you see your father. Here’s the TV nook. Your bedroom’s through the doorway next to it.”
The Devine version of a “nook” is what I’d consider a fairly large room, open to the hall and stairwell other than two arching lintels with a pillar in the middle. An immense L-shaped sofa and an ottoman fill most of one half, facing a built-in entertainment center that features a TV so wide I couldn’t touch both sides with my arms outstretched. The cozy tang of leather and wood varnish warms the air.
I step away from the stairs across the landing’s thick Persian rug. My head feels as if it’s floating up off my shoulders in my daze.
Daphne moves to follow me and sways on her feet. She snatches at the railing before her knees buckle, but from the whitening of her knuckles where she grips the dark wood, she’s still on the verge.
She really did drain herself dry summoning me across the universes. How much has she been running on sheer adrenaline? First she finds her apparently beloved niece murdered, then she pulls off an act of magic so incredible I’ve never heard anyone even mention it being possible…
Daphne sees me noticing her lapse and pushes her mouth into a smile—one that looks pretty wobbly too. “I’m all right. Go on in.”
As I open the door she indicated, she follows at a careful pace.
The first thing that hits me is a lingering floral note. Jasmine. My chest clenches even tighter with a smack of nostalgia.
It’s so close to Mom’s favorite perfume, the one she only wore on special occasions because she couldn’t afford to buy more.Did the Elodie of this world hold on to one small piece of that side of her family, even though she lost Mom much earlier?
Nothing else about the room before me is familiar. The four-poster bed with its gauzy rose-print canopy is double the size of the one I slept in growing up. Its regal wooden frame coordinates with the vintage secretary desk on one side of the room and the vanity on the other. There’s a picture window with a cushioned seat and a small sofa draped with a fluffy blanket.
Two doors stand ajar deeper inside the room. It takes several steps inside for me to be able to peek past them—into an en-suite bathroom with a marble sink and glass shower enclosure, and into a walk-in closet with a central island, a vibrant mishmash of clothes hanging along the walls, and shelves with dozens of pairs of shoes.
Thisis how my alternate lived for all these years? She had… everything.
And for a little while, I guess, so do I. Except my hands clench at the thought of touching anything in this space, like it’s an exhibit in a stately home where visitors are only allowed to look.
It’s not as neat as an exhibit would be. The dusty-rose bedcovers are only loosely pulled up, as if Other Elodie simply gave them a quick yank and called it made. A couple of dresses drape over the end of the bedframe. The secretary desk is open to reveal a laptop, scattered textbooks, a rumpled pair of silk gloves, and a tube of lipstick. A half-full bottle of water sits open on one bedside table.
The room still feels inhabited. She expected to walk back in tonight like she must have thousands of nights before.
Instead, it’s me.
Daphne has remained by the doorway, gripping the frame. Her expression has hollowed out, as if she’s looking far, far away but seeing nothing at all.
I’m not the Elodie she expected would return to this room tonight either.
She gives herself a little shake, sways again, and manages to steady her stance. A limp wave of her hand directs my attention to the farther bedside table. “I—I plugged in her phone to charge. It should unlock for you. You can look through her photos and videos, texts and all that… The laptop too. I’m not sure what else…”
She seems to drift away again. Despite the fact that I don’t want to be here and I hate that she wrenched me away, sympathy tugs at me.
Strange as it is to think this, she’s been put through the wringer as much as I have.
“I’ll figure it out,” I say.
Daphne hesitates. “If you need help or have any questions or anything?—”
