Page 144 of Too Good to Be True


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I was in search of my sister.

Lou and her folks had come and gone.

Things had started poorly, considering the plasters on my temple. But I deftly sidestepped that concern with a little white lie of clumsiness due to Amaretto on an empty stomach and taking Lou aside to tell her Ian and I had kissed…twice. This last capturing her attention, and plasters were forgotten.

Lady Jane swooped in to finish my brave efforts by greeting Lou and her family with her brand of warmth, offering them luncheon and a tour of the house, which both Jo and Kevin, her dad, couldn’t hide they were eager to accept.

Lou and I chatted in the Cat’s-eye Room while Lady Jane guided the tour, with Lou holding court to Portia coming in and awkwardly, but still sweetly, giving Lou a hug and telling her she was there if Lou needed anything. Then a studiously separate visit from a sheepish Daniel for him to ask after her and share his goodbyes. This led to an uncomfortable visit from Richard, where I had more proof he did not lie the night before, his concern evident. And finally, Ian, who stayed with us for a while, then took off because he had a phone meeting, but he didn’t leave before he told me to be ready to go to the village at three.

This last made Lou very bright and cheery.

Oh, and by the way, it was clear Ian took them all aside and made sure they didn’t share last night’s incident, because no one said a thing.

Richard joined us for lunch, but Daniel and Ian didn’t, and Portia and I alone gave hugs and kisses at Jo and Kevin’s car, with Portia’s hug for Lou lasting longer than mine, and me having good thoughts about how Lou closed her eyes and held on tight throughout it.

However, it was only me who stood at the base of the steps of Duncroft and watched their car drive away until I couldn’t see it anymore, Portia dashing up the steps and disappearing into the house.

There was nothing to make me feel great about it all, but I felt better. Lou seemed in good spirits. I knew her mum and dad would take excellent care of her. And she’d be home soon and safe from all the stress of Portia and Richard and Jane.

Though, when I did walk back up the steps, Richard was waiting for me.

I worried about another uncomfortable conversation, but he took the opportunity to, rather formally, apologize for what happened the night before. Although the apology was stiff, I could tell he was still angry about what happened, and it seemed authentic.

Since it wasn’t his fault, I didn’t think he had anything to apologize for, and although it was nice he did it, I thanked him and told him an apology was unnecessary.

He finished by requesting, “Please don’t think too badly about my son. We all do things that are imprudent when we’re backed into corners. Daniel’s learned now, lamentably through something upsetting happening to you, he shouldn’t have done any of it. Not from the start of getting involved with that young woman. But I can assure you, this won’t be repeated again.”

He couldn’t assure me of that, he wasn’t Daniel. But since we both very much wanted our talk to be over, I accepted his assurances, and the talk was over.

Now, it was nearing three and I needed to have a chat with my sister before Ian’s and my first date, and I couldn’t find her.

My efforts were rewarded when I looked into the Pink Topaz Room.

This was another smaller, though not cozy room. The pinks were bright and blinding, almost overpowering.

But my sister, curled into a window seat, resting against fuchsia taffeta throw pillows and a magenta cushion, wearing another long, flowing skirt, this one shining silk the color of a ballet slipper, with a matching fluffy turtleneck sweater, looked designed for the space.

“Hey,” I called.

Listlessly, she turned her head to me. “Hey.”

I made my way to the window seat and wedged my ass in with her.

For her part, she tucked her legs tighter to give me room.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I should be asking you that.”

“As you can see, I’m perfectly fine,” I assured her.

“I can’t even leave,” she said as a belated and perplexing answer to my opening question, turning her head back to the window.

“Pardon?”

Her gaze remained at the window. “I don’t have a ride to the train station. I don’t have a car. I don’t own a car. And I’m too angry at Daniel to ask him to take me. They don’t have Uber here. And even if I could get there, I need the money I have left to pay rent, not buy train tickets.”

This was my cue, but I didn’t get to take it. She turned her face to me.

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