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“Stop. Even if Henri was single, have you met him? Thank God Alice came around, but he could never do what you’ve already accomplished.”
“He always puts the business first.”
She gave me an exaggerated eye roll. “You and your perverse guilt! So you went and lived your life. There’s nothing wrong with that. Do you know how jealous I am?”
Her words had me reeling back in my seat. Sure, I had always suspected she was jealous that I’d left Lovewell. Paved my own path away from the Gagnon name and the family business. But she’d never said the words out loud.
She’d come visit when I was in Boston and also when I was in Portland. The rest of my family never did. We’d go out for nice meals and sometimes to a play and I always enjoyed our time together.
Adele never made me feel bad for my choice to leave. On the contrary; she got it, my need to escape. The need to get the fuck away from my family and all the expectations and baggage that came with it.
Because even loving families could be stifling. Even good people could put a person into a tiny box, cast them in a role, and never give them a chance to grow.
I thought she’d be next. Potential and drive had never been problems for Adele. She was the smartest of us all, taking advanced courses and earning scholarships. When she earned a full ride to U Maine to study engineering, I figured her next step would be to get even farther away and build rockets.
Never did I think she’d come right back to Lovewell and dive headfirst into the family business.
For the most part, she played the role of contented employee, showing up every day with a smile on her face, though Adele had never been the happy type.
Shewassatisfied with her shop and her role and her team.
Henri gave her complete control, and she took pride in her work. She mentored mechanics and techs and encouraged more women and girls to learn the trade.
But every once in a while, I saw it. The wistful way she walked down the cobblestone streets of Portland. I’d catch the sighs that would escape when we took the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard for a weekend with friends.
She was stuck.
Not that she would ever say it out loud. She’d probably punch me for even suggesting it. But I knew my sister. And for her, something was missing.
She’d turned down a dozen or more job offers, though she’d never told me why. And she’d never explained why, after getting her master’s, she didn’t go for the PhD she was more than capable of achieving.
Maybe Dad knew.
The two of them were tight, and at the time, I was busy in Boston, more worried about myself than any of my siblings or my parents.
But here she was, running her side of the business, overseeing the employees she hand-picked and trained, doing the thing she was really fucking good at every day.
I was the jealous one in this scenario. Because she was settled. Content.
She had built a life for herself here. She had friends and colleagues and a home she loved.
And now that I was hitting my midthirties, I could see her wisdom for what it was.
If only she would stop dating pompous assholes who treated her like shit.
“When you put in an effort, you are charming as hell. This is going to be difficult, but since when do you let that stop you?” She raised one eyebrow in challenge.
I nodded. She was right, as usual. I could do this.
“And,” she continued, “if she’s a brilliant as you say she is, then all you have to do is pretend to date her when you go out in public and stay out of her way the rest of the time.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Maybe because it is.”
For her, maybe. But she didn’t live with a brain like mine. The kind that always made things harder. That obsessively reviewed every bad outcome over and over until I was either too tired to keep my eyes open or too wired to think straight. She didn’t see all the scenarios in which I could let everyone down. But how could I tell her that? How could I explain?
I shrugged. “I’m an asshole.”
