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“I talked to her about that.” Ida shook her head.
“When?”
“We were at Grandma’s the other day,” Ida said. “Boxing things up. Cleaning.”
Sophie’s heart sank into her stomach. She gaped at Ida, who knitted her brows together.
“I know. I felt like you should have been there, too,” Ida offered. “And I told her that.”
“I have so many memories there,” Sophie rasped. Her heart fluttered, imagining her mother tearing things apart, boxing things up, sanitizing that gorgeous home.
Ida made a face and sipped her wine. Across the kitchen, Oriana laughed outrageously at something someone told her—an artsy type who looked like he’d come in from Manhattan.
“You should go over there yourself,” Ida suggested. “Make sure Mom doesn’t get rid of something you might want.”
“What’s her plan?” Sophie asked. “Has she even told Grandma she’s doing this?”
“You know how weird Mom is about that house.” Ida shrugged. “She looks so determined not to cry while she’s there. Like she uses all of her brain power not to fall apart.”
Sophie sighed and leaned against the counter beside her sister, suddenly overwhelmed with sorrow.
“I need to tell you something,” Sophie whispered. She felt the secret bubbling up from her stomach. She wanted to tell her sister before everyone else.
Slowly, Sophie unzipped her purse and lifted the black velvet box up toward the light. It was concealed from everyone else but Ida, tucked beneath the folds of the leather bag. The minute Sophie popped it open, Ida’s jaw dropped, and her eyes glinted with tears.
“Is that?” she stuttered. “Is that really…?”
Sophie returned the box to the bottom of her bag and threw her arms around Ida. She shook, overwhelmed with emotions—grief, surprise, and hope. They all pummeled against her heart, threatening to shatter it. How much could one person feel before falling apart? She’d previously taken drugs to avoid her overwhelming feelings. She’d hidden herself from the storm of feeling too much.
“I assume you said yes?” Ida whispered into her ear with a laugh.
Sophie nodded and giggled, stepping back to wipe the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her dress. The other secret—the far bigger one, remained tucked into the back folds of her mind.
“I’m going to tell everyone else later,” Sophie offered. “But I’m terrified.”
“A New Year’s Day party is the best place for that news,” Ida said, blinking back tears. “There won’t be a dry eye in any of these massive, beautiful rooms.”
Sophie cackled and pressed her hand on her chest. It was okay, she told herself. She was here with her sister. She was safe. And this was the first day of the rest of her life with Patrick by her side.
Chapter Eight
Katrina sat in the living room of Oriana’s immaculate place, studying a modern art painting on the opposite wall. She couldn’t make sense of it. It was mostly orange, with a strange right triangle painted in one corner and a blue sun painted in the opposite corner. The artist had signed the bottom-right corner, but she couldn’t make out the name.
“What do you think?”
Estelle appeared beside Katrina, following Katrina’s gaze to the painting. Estelle tilted her head, assessing it, giving it more consideration than Katrina felt able to. And then, Estelle sat on the couch beside Katrina, took a sip from her glass of wine, and said, “I think it’s garbage.”
Katrina burst into laughter. She hadn’t expected such a surly opinion from Estelle, who was perhaps the most optimistic and happy woman Katrina had ever known. Although Katrina hadn’t read all of Estelle’s books, they always ended with happily ever afters—with the hero and the heroine riding off into the metaphorical sunset and having babies.
“Sorry,” Estelle said, snapping her hand over her mouth. “I don’t know how to act around ‘real art.’” She used two fingers to make air quotes.
“I don’t understand it,” Katrina whispered, her eyes darting around the room. She didn’t dare say anything uncouth in front of Oriana. “I mean, the orange? The triangle? Just looking at it makes me want to scream.”
Estelle giggled. Her lips were faintly stained from her wine.
“How did it go today with your mother, Kat?”
“She’s awake, thank goodness.” Katrina closed her eyes, trying to shove the image of her very sick mother from her mind. “We’ll head to the hospital as soon as we get back to Nantucket tomorrow.”
