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MacGregor shook the bag once more and offered it to Oliver. His manicured hand moved carefully in and retrieved the lot. “It’s red,” he said quietly. MacGregor took the lot from him and held it high. “Red. The lot is red. Not much of a surprise, but we had to follow through with the ‘preliminaries,’ to borrow Abby’s term.” He returned the lot to the case and handed it to Oliver. As he returned to the center of the crowd, he patted Oliver on the back. “It’s all yours, cousin.”
Holding up the pillowcase, Oliver addressed the crowd. “It’s strange, you know, you feel the little bugger force itself into your hand.” He looked around the room. “No offense to Michael, but we’re going to have a slight break with both tradition and the theatre of suspense. I know we usually go from eldest to youngest, but we all know what we’re thinking here, and I don’t want to prolong the misery for Maisie any longer than need be. Come on, sweetie,” he said addressing Maisie. “Let’s end this thing.”
“I can’t,” Maisie responded flatly. “I can’t do it.”
“Sure you can, honey,” Ellen reassured her.
“Mercy. Go help your sister.” Iris called to me. The cousins cleared a pathway for me as I moved across the room toward Maisie. “You two came into the world together, you two can draw together.”
“You’re not in this alone. I promise you, sis. We’ll face things together no matter what.” Something played on Maisie’s face, a look that said something like “Easy for you to say.”
“I don’t need you to hold my hand,” Maisie said, her voice scarcely loudly enough for me to hear. She pulled back her shoulders and raised her chin. She looked nearly regal as she walked over to Oliver. I followed on her heels, just like I’d been doing since I could walk.
I knew she was angry with me, but after this was over, we’d talk it out. Jackson loved her. Maybe he was a little confused, a little afraid of the commitment he’d made to her. But what he felt for me wasn’t real. It was just a way for him to maintain a bit of his bachelorhood, keep one little toe out of the water. That’s all it was, I told myself, not letting myself consider whether it was true or merely a crutch I was using to help us all over this rough patch. They would marry, and I would marry Peter. The four of us would grow old together and sit out on the porch of this very house laughing about what had happened today.
“But I do need you,” I told her. “I need you to hold my hand.” She held my gaze, and the irritation on her face melted away.
“Together?” she asked, her voice quavering.
“Together,” I responded and took her hand. Oliver held the case out to us. Still holding onto each other, we reached into the bag with our free hands. I squeezed her hand tightly as we pulled our respective lots from the bag. My heart soared as I saw the lot she had drawn. White. She was free.
I squealed and hugged her, starting to dance around. Oliver’s sharp, “Mercy!” cut into me, and I swiveled to look at him, a bit confused by his severity. That was when I saw it. The lot I was holding was red. I looked at Maisie and was astounded to see the look of shock in her eyes harden into an expression of absolute hatred. Her forehead was pinched, and her teeth were exposed in an open mouth grimace. She ripped her hand from my grasp.
“You put a magnet on the end of a nail, and the nail becomes a magnet too,” Connor announced into the stunned silence. “You girls shouldn’t have gone together, and you shouldn’t have been holding hands.”
“I’m not so sure,” Abby responded. “The power picks the one it wants. Maybe we should stop and think about this. It could be a sign.”
“Maybe it’s a sign we need to start all over,” Teague called out, pushing his way back to the front of the room.
“Why are you so angry?” I whispered to Maisie. “I thought you didn’t want this.”
She pulled away from me, stepping back a few steps. Then she whipped her hair around and faced me like she was about to pounce, her hands bent into claws. I felt like I was looking at a total stranger. Not someone I had known even before birth. “Because it’s mine!” she hissed back at me. “I’ve spent my whole life preparing for this!”
I shook my head, totally confused. The only reason she wanted to be the anchor was because she thought I might get to be. None of this computed with the sister I thought I knew. “You’ve always had everything. But that isn’t enough for you. Now you want my man. You want my place.” The words came out in quiet but barbed hisses.
“No, Maisie,” I said. “You’re wrong. I just want you to be happy.” I tried to approach her, but she stepped back again.
“Don’t touch me!” she warned, her voice like a slap. I stopped dead in my tracks.
“We’ve never questioned the draw before,” MacGregor ventured tentatively. “I know on the surface this looks a little odd, but…”
“Listen,” Oliver interrupted impatiently. “There’s an easy way to settle this. We’ll have them both go again, separately this time.”
“I second that.” Connor started to step forward, sucking in his stomach and puffing out his chest in one quick move.
“But you ain’t part of this decision.” Abby spun on him. Connor’s admiration for the woman evaporated from his face.
“Then I second it,” Iris stated, moving out from behind her husband’s shadow. “Come on, girls, let’s have a redo.”
I reached over and dropped the red tile back into the bag. I was totally stunned. By the tile. By my sister. I just wanted this day to end.
“No,” I responded. “This is silly. We all know that I’m not the right one to replace Ginny. My presence here is only a formality.” I gave Maisie a sidelong look, trying to find some warmth in her face. “I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t think you wanted this. Maybe the power thought the same thing. But it’s over. It’s yours.” I turned and started for the door, but Oliver stopped me.
“You all are up to something,” Teague said, shaking a thick finger at my uncle. “You all know the power is through with you Savannah Taylors, and you are doing your best to hide it.”
“Step down, Teague,” his father called out. Resentment flooded Teague’s face, but he obeyed.
