by Jea Hawkins
The sound of the zipper grated on Sabrina’s nerves. Gut heavy with misgivings, she turned to Blythe and offered her arm. “You look amazing.”
She still hadn’t questioned how her month-long houseguest had come to her with so many changes of clothes. Maybe she’d done so in anticipation of Sabrina saying yes to Miranda’s devious plan, but her sister’s words echoed in her mind. But I’m even more sorry that you decided to get involved with her. I don’t think it can end well.
Blythe smiled, her face soft and sweet. Unaware of Sabrina’s doubts. She smoothed her seafoam green dress and said, “Thank you. So do you.”
Sabrina doubted it. The woman in front of her looked young and lovely, while Sabrina wore a sleeveless black dress that almost covered her knees. It’d been a long time since she had a body to pull off the kind of outfits Blythe wore. She lifted her hand, but stopped herself before touching Blythe’s face. Rather than let the useless gesture punctuate the silence, she said, “I don’t want to ruin your makeup.”
“Perfection isn’t as important to me as you are.” There it was, another sentence like a gut-punch, filling Sabrina with nausea. It was the little things Blythe said that made her wonder if there was a chance this could be something more.
They needed to talk, sooner rather than later. She wanted to change her mind, not show up to the party. But if she did that, Miranda won. She was tired of her sister getting everything she wanted, while Sabrina endured her mockery.
A choppy ferry ride and bumper-to-bumper traffic going into Boston did nothing to settle her stomach. Even Blythe’s pleasant chatter did more harm than good, making Sabrina’s belly lurch and dip with every word.
“What’s wrong?” Blythe touched her arm and Sabrina jolted. The way Blythe’s mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide told Sabrina she’d felt it.
“I’m sorry. Seeing my sister turns me into a nervous wreck.” The words rolled off her tongue easily, probably because it was half the truth. It was the other half she couldn’t bring herself to say, and that was the part churning within her.
Blythe’s gaze hooded. Perceptive as always, she had to know Sabrina wasn’t telling all. Neither had Blythe, though. It had to happen now, all of it, before they embarrassed themselves in public. Which, now that Sabrina thought about it, was probably Miranda’s hope for the night.
“Sabrina, I came to your house intending to stay, because Miranda said you would feel like you had no choice but to go along with things. It’s just that I didn’t expect we’d end up here, like this.”
You mean, you didn’t expect to end up with me, instead of Miranda. Sabrina sucked in a breath and said, “Neither did I, but there’s a first… or third time for everything.”
“What do you mean?” Blythe’s expression had gone from upset to confused, and Sabrina decided at least one of them was going to come clean before they set foot inside the suite where the party was being thrown.
“You aren’t the first of her exes I’ve gotten involved with, though I use the term ‘ex’ pretty loosely.” Sabrina gripped the steering wheel and wondered if she was going to white-knuckle her way through the entire night. “There were two others, a long time ago. You know the phrase ‘Once bitten, twice shy’? Well, that was me. Both of them were only after whatever prestige they could get by nailing celebrity sisters. After that, I stayed away from her conquests, because I knew I’d get nothing out of it but heartbreak.”
Blythe closed her eyes, pain creasing her otherwise smooth brow. “Sabrina—”
“Of course, you’re not just here for that, are you? I wonder what she offered you to play her little game, what you’re willing to take at the expense of someone else’s heart. It’s fine. I mean, whatever. At least my publicist will be happy that I have a way to refute the things Miranda said about me, right?”
“Sabrina, please listen to me.”
“We’re here.” She cut Blythe off again as she maneuvered into the parking garage and a spot by the entrance. Bile rose in her throat, but she swallowed it and cut the engine. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Miranda.”
Blythe’s hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged at it. “I don’t want to tell her anything, but I want you to let me tell you everything. Can’t you look at me right now while we’re talking? I care about you more than you know.”
It was the worst thing she could say and Sabrina bit her lower lip to hold back her response. “Let’s get this done and over with, and go on pretending this is real. That’s all either of us has to do.”
The words came out before she could bite them back, and she shoved the driver’s side door open to make her escape. They both slammed their doors shut at the same time, the echo reverberating through the parking garage. Sabrina turned and strode as fast as she could to the elevator, so she could escape Blythe’s frown. She jabbed the button as Blythe caught up and plucked at her shoulder.
“Is that what you think about all of this?” Blythe hissed.
Before Sabrina could respond, a small group of people approached, no doubt attending the same party a few levels above them. Sabrina dropped her gaze until the elevator dinged and the door opened. This was what she’d been waiting for, the moment her summer fling imploded in spectacular fashion, while Miranda watched. Why she’d been stupid enough to let herself give in was beyond her. It didn’t even matter what her publisher wanted. This was her life everyone was playing with.
The elevator ride was interminable, crowded to the back corner with Blythe staring at her the whole time, while the group at the front chattered about the most insipid things. Sabrina didn’t care what they thought about how good Miranda looked on TV or that they needed to get the name of her aesthetician. Then again, she’d stopped looking up to her sister well before her pre-teen years, sick of watching everyone else worship the ground the woman walked.
“This isn’t what you think it is,” Blythe insisted as the elevator jolted to a halt and the door opened a second time.
The larger group walked out, still talking and laughing too loudly. “Isn’t it?” Sabrina finally cut Blythe a glare before stepping out onto the floor. Her entire body tensed, ready for yet another battle with her sister. “Please, don’t insult my intelligence. We can have a much nicer time if you’re honest with me about your intentions.”
“I tried to be honest weeks ago and you wouldn’t let me talk,” Blythe reminded her. “I wish you hadn’t waited until now, when whatever issues you have with your sister are clearly bothering you. Maybe we should have stayed home if you were going to act like this.”
“First of all, ‘we’ don’t have a home together. You’re a houseguest, one I didn’t exactly sign on to have. Second, you don’t get to scold me about my behavior, when it’s okay for you to hop into bed with one sister and then the other.”
Blythe closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her head. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, Sabrina, especially when you won’t let me explain things. You’re the one who brought us here tonight, not me. You’re the one who has some kind of weird hang-up about your sister, but if this is how you want us to go out, I’ll entertain you.”
It wasn’t anything like how Sabrina anticipated the end of their relationship, real or not. There should have been a little arguing, sure, but not these venomous words. Before she could tell Blythe, however, Miranda swept up to them, hooked her elbow with each of theirs, and said under her breath, “Don’t ruin my party, ladies, or I’ll feed you both to the sharks.” Steel threaded the sweetness of her voice and she tugged them both into the room, guiding them to the very center of the party.
“There’s only one shark here and you know it,” Blythe shot back, surprising Sabrina.
She hated that the words also made her pulse quicken. Blythe had the power to excite her like no one else, to intrigue her and make her want to hear more. Why now, why this woman, why tonight? If they’d met under normal circumstances, maybe at a local arts event or one of the quiete
r parties thrown by her small circle of friends, Sabrina would have taken the relationship slowly, given it serious effort. But what they had was tainted from the start and she couldn’t ignore that.
“Indeed.” Miranda’s gaze raked Blythe from head to toe, and Sabrina tensed at the obvious assessment. “But which one of us is it?”
“Okay, enough of this.” Sabrina put her hands up, the rush of adrenaline in her veins too much for her to stand there and take it. “I already know what you did wrong, Miranda, putting Blythe up to this, supposedly for the sake my image. But did you really have to pass her off to me the way you did? I’m tired of getting your hand-me-downs.”
A smug smile curved Miranda’s lips, but Blythe stepped between the sisters and grated out, “I am not her hand-me-down. I’m not like any of those girls, Sabrina. I never slept with your sister and I never will.”
“What?” Sabrina stumbled back and stared at her, painfully aware that they were probably all getting stares from partygoers. They’d barely walked in the door and now this. Her legs shook with the need to run away from all of it, back to what was safe and normal.
“The truth is I wanted to meet you and I used Miranda to get close to you, but I swear I never slept with her to accomplish that. I lied to you, because I thought it would be easier to play at being the dumped girlfriend, instead of someone who pulled some strings to meet you. Miranda hated the idea, but she did it anyway. The magazine article just made it that much easier to corner you into giving me a chance. It made things even more convenient.”
Sabrina closed her eyes. If only that one, simple reflexive motion could also shut out the world. When she opened them again, though, Blythe was still staring at her and Miranda looked like the cat who ate the canary.
“I need time to think about this.” Sabrina’s voice didn’t sound like her own, reedy and thin. Nor did the words sound like anything she would ever say. Normally, she would close the door to any future communication and be done with it. She hated leaving anything unfinished.
Blythe nodded, eyes reddening by the moment. “That’s fair. Just remember, I wanted to meet you, to get to know you, and I tried to talk to you, but you’re the one who decided to keep me at arm’s length. Right here, right now — this whole thing isn’t my fault. Got it?”
“Got it.” Not really, but it was the only answer Sabrina could give without bursting into tears. Besides, it made backing into the elevator and out of the most humiliating experience of her entire life that much easier.
Chapter Twelve
Sulking wasn’t something Sabrina did often, but if there was ever a time to let her inner adolescent come out, this was it.
Fortunately, something else came out when she sulked – words, pure and painful. She pounded her hurt into the keyboard and watched it come out on the other side. Grief-inspired writing did her at least some good. It moved her latest story along faster and filled it with the humanity she sought to embody in all her characters.
At least she wasn’t sitting around, filling up on Friendly’s Ice Cream. Well, not much of it, anyway. She slid a glance toward the wastebasket in her office, where two of the distinctive red cartons jutted out atop a pile of tissues and other trash.
The jangle of keys pulled her gaze back to the entryway and she sucked in a breath at the unwelcome sight. “Miranda,” she acknowledged.
“Sabrina. I’m glad to see your publicist hasn’t flayed you for this little deal.” Miranda tossed a newspaper on the desk, the headline Sisterly Showdown in bold black ink.
“Of course she didn’t, because now she has even more people calling to score invitations to the book launch. So thanks for that.” Sabrina didn’t make a move for the newspaper. Her fingers remained on the keyboard, tapping out words to the same fast-paced tempo of her heart. “Why are you even here?”
“Don’t you think it’s about time we resolved all of this so you can move on with your life?” Miranda twirled the keychain on her index finger, her other hand propped on her hip. Her pose was a stark reminder of twenty-something Miranda, who thought she could have her world, her way, without worrying about the cost to others.
“I am moving on with my life. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m working.”
Miranda sat on the cushioned window seat, clearly unconcerned by the dismissal. “No doubt putting your heartbreak on the page for all to see. Is that really the answer, or will it just result in another article reminding the world what a lonely, eccentric spinster you are?”
“Who even uses that word anymore?” Sabrina banged at the keys for another thirty seconds before dropping her hands in her lap and turning to Miranda. If only she could throw a punch at her sister, instead of taking out her anger on an innocent keyboard. “Seriously, you’re the one who did this to me, so what the hell do you want now?”
“I want you to be happy.” Miranda’s soft answer made Sabrina laugh.
“Yeah, right.”
Her sister’s eyes hardened. “No, I really do. Do you think I ever wanted you to be solitary and sad?”
“I’m not sad. I like being alone.” Defensiveness permeated every word and gesture as Sabrina folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.
This wasn’t how the epilogue to the “Sisterly Showdown” was supposed to happen. The fireworks at the party hadn’t been nearly spectacular enough and she was certain Miranda had something else up her sleeve. Why she’d chosen now to deliver the killing blow, Sabrina couldn’t imagine.
So she added, “I also don’t care about my image the way you care about yours. The only reason you ever set me up with Blythe, or her up with me, or whatever, was to see me miserable. You take some sick pleasure in tormenting other people, especially me. Why?”
Miranda turned away from her, face toward the window. Sabrina wondered if she was looking at the surf beyond. High tide was audible from here, waves crashing against the beach. It probably helped that the sky had darkened with clouds. A storm coming in. Perfect. That matched her mood and as soon as Miranda left, she could open the windows, let in the wind and rain, and get back to doing what mattered.
“I did it because you have everything I want. No one ever just wants me for the person I am. They’re after what I can give them – fifteen minutes of fame, connection with a big name, even a career boost.”
Sabrina supposed her sister was telling the truth. Boston was in the thick of things and it was harder to avoid people there, than it was on an island. Of course, there were plenty of people who’d approached Sabrina over the years with requests to send their work to her agent, to get them in with her publisher, or otherwise help them start a career in writing. She always turned them down and never felt a twinge of guilt for it.
But the pressure, she knew, was probably far greater in Miranda’s job.
“I suppose I was also jealous that, for once, someone approached me because they wanted to get close to you, not me. Blythe didn’t want to sleep with me or trade any special favors. She just wanted to meet you, so she told the truth when she said we never slept together. I wanted to. Who wouldn’t want her? But…” Miranda turned back to her and shrugged, a half-smile lifting one corner of her mouth. “But you win this time.”
It should have been gratifying to hear Miranda confess all of this to her. Except… Sabrina shook her head and swallowed the tears that threatened to spill. “I didn’t win, because she’s gone.”
“You made her go, though. You didn’t have to do that. I admit, it was entirely my fault. I was wrong the way I went about things and roping Jennifer into it was even worse. I’m sure Blythe also could have been more forthcoming, but don’t blame her. I’m the one who concocted the entire plan and I told her to wait until it seemed like you were warming up to her, before she tried to tell you the truth.”
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Sabrina rose from the chair and circled her office, rubbing both hands over her face. After Miranda left, she’d have herself a good cry. For now, though, she simply
said, “I can’t believe you did this to me.”
“I know, I know.” Miranda’s hands gripped her shoulders, shocking Sabrina into looking her sister in the eye. The older Covell glared down at her, only a smidge of softness in her expression, as she said, “But you’re in love with her and you shouldn’t let my stupidity stop you from getting her back.”
Chapter Thirteen
Finding Jansens on Nantucket was easier said than done. Apparently, the island was their own personal Cheers and everybody knew their name. “Which one?” she was asked again and again, only to be told, “Sorry, I don’t know about a Blythe.”
Sabrina sat outside Stars Ice Cream, a waffle cone topped with two scoops of ice cream clutched in her hand. Every so often, she licked at the vanilla drips, her focus trained on the harbor. This was the kind of place she expected to see Blythe, photographing the wood-shingle buildings and people hard at work all around her. Clicking away on her camera, while the sun glinted off her pale blonde hair.