Sister Dear

by Hannah Mary McKinnon

  I’d stay dressed how I was. It didn’t matter; this wasn’t a business meeting. Once we met and my curiosity about my half sister was satisfied, I’d send her a note, tell her something had come up and I couldn’t work with her. I grabbed a beanie and shoved my hair underneath, trying not to think about how much money it would cost to have the color fixed. For the next year while it grew out, I’d have to accept my ombré-gone-wrong look and invest in more hats.

  All too quickly I ended up twenty yards from Jake’s Cakes, palms sweating as much as the rest of me, the mantra about it all being a terrible idea still trundling around my head. I wanted to go home, but the image of Stan, the memory of how he’d ordered me to disappear into the night, wouldn’t let me. Fuck him. What would his precious daughter and dutiful wife think when they learned their tight family unit wasn’t so perfect, after all? What might happen if in fifteen minutes Victoria phoned Stan demanding to know the truth, if a woman called Eleanor Hardwicke was his illegitimate offspring? The choice to reveal the truth was mine. I held all the cards, no, the entire deck. Of course, doing so would mean I’d ruin my chances of ever being invited to become part of the Gallinger clan, but my illusions of that happening were long gone. Besides, I couldn’t imagine forgiving Stan’s betrayal.

  I pulled open the door to Jake’s Cakes and looked around. The place was trendy yet cozy, with open shelves, black-and-white handwritten chalkboards and a collection of tables and chairs. Two-feet-high bright red letters spelled out the coffee shop’s name and hung above the reclaimed-timber counter standing next to a fridge stacked with multicolored frosted cakes.

  There were a couple of people in the store. Two older women sat deep in conversation over their giant mugs, their beverages piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles. A few students huddled together in another corner, by the sound of it discussing a science syllabus.

  A table near the front seemed the safest bet to meet Victoria; away from everyone but close enough to the front doors to allow for a quick escape should the need arise. I ordered the cheapest decaf from the hipster-bearded barista, refusing the offer of treats. Once again I’d picked at little food all day, had enjoyed the sense of control it gave me when I had a handle on little else. As I yanked up my jeans that had slipped below my hip bone—a body part hidden underneath soft flesh for years—I wondered if I should’ve given my uninspired office outfits another chance.

  My heart bounced around my rib cage as I took a seat and ran through my options, trying to decide if I should tell Victoria outright we were related, and if I did so, what she might say. I imagined an entire catalog of her expressions, settled on astonished disbelief, a reaction I’d anticipate with an extra helping of relish.

  It felt good going into a situation knowing the advantage was mine, except, until then, I’d never thought of myself as a calculating person. I was a people pleaser, a good girl. I mostly kept to myself, followed the rules, never cheated or lied and paid my bills on time. I’d spent many nights at the office in my previous job, taking on more projects than I could reasonably handle, never having the courage to say no. Where had all of my goody-two-shoes behavior got me?

  I drummed my fingertips on the table, looked at the time. Victoria had said to meet in thirty minutes. It had already been forty. What if she’d changed her mind? If she’d decided she couldn’t be bothered, would I have the nerve to contact her again? Another minute passed. As I was about to discard the half-empty coffee cup and head home with a mix of relief and disappointment settling in my chest, the café door opened, and Victoria stepped inside.

  If someone had asked me to describe my half sister in one word, I’d have said glowing. In her photos she looked perfect, but still they didn’t do her justice. Awestruck, I took in her delicate nose, smooth skin and long hair, which fell around her face in an effortless “this is how I wake up every morning” look. Dressed in fitted black pants, high-heeled leather boots with silver buckles and a pine-green coat pulled in at her tiny waist, she could’ve come directly from a modeling shoot. As I looked at her, a nasty, vicious feeling bubbled up inside me. One I’d fought hard in my past. Something I still felt every time I set eyes on Amy. Sheer envy.

  “Eleanor?” Victoria said, her voice as soft and pleasant as it had been on the phone. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Thank you for waiting.” She held out her hand and I shook it, the skin of her slim, tan fingers velvety, her grip assertive and strong. My gaze dropped to her left hand, my belly fluttering when I saw the empty spot next to her wedding ring.

  Guess where your precious diamonds are, I wanted to whisper.

  “It’s no trouble.” My voice came out too high. I tried again. “And it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Same.” Her face broke into a smile as she put a hand on my arm. “I was so excited to get your message yesterday. Give me a few minutes to get a coffee. Can I get you anything? Another drink? A muffin or something?”

  “No, thank you,” I said, trying to stop myself from pulling away. “I’m good.”

  “Back in a second.”

  I watched the barista fall under Victoria’s spell as she walked up to him, her hips swaying ever so slightly, her shampoo-commercial hair bouncing behind her. A blush lit up his face as she leaned in and said something that made him laugh. When I’d asked him for a coffee with cream and sugar, I’d received a friendly “Anything else, Miss?” in return. Nothing to complain about, but his entire demeanor changed during their short exchange. Another word to describe her was enchanting. Bewitching. Fascinating. No doubt people were unaware she’d ensnared them before it was too late, and she’d got what she wanted from them. Not this time, I thought. Not with me.

  Victoria walked back to our table, the barista’s gaze planted firmly on her ass. When he looked up, his eyes met mine, and he blushed harder still, grabbing a cloth to wipe the counter.

  “Thanks again for waiting,” she said as she sat down. “I was talking about a potential property and got so excited, I completely forgot the time.”

  “What kind of property?” I said, heart thumping. “Are you moving?”

  “Oh, gosh, no, not at all, we only got to our new place a few months ago. This one is for work, for my own company.” She leaned in, lowered her voice to a whisper. “I know we’ve just met, but I hope I can speak to you in confidence?”

  “Of course.” My chest tightened at the thought of us sharing a secret. “What happens at Jake’s Cakes stays at Jake’s Cakes.”

  “Who is Jake, anyway? The coffee guy’s name tag said Phil.” Victoria grinned, and I found myself doing so, too. “Anyway, after the call tonight, I’m a hundred steps closer to quitting my job.”

  “Wow. That must feel scary.” Except it wasn’t. Not when you had a wealthy family and a husband doubling up as your safety net so you could play at being entrepreneur. I highly doubted she’d been refused a small business loan, or that she’d even applied for one. Daddy darling’s pockets were deep enough.

  “It’s terrifying,” Victoria said. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m petrified.”

  “I completely understand. What line of business are you going into?”

  “Same as now, interior design. I’m tired of working for someone else, them calling all the shots, taking all the credit for my work.” Her eyes flashed, telling me she didn’t think highly of her boss. “Now that I’m ready to quit, I have to get the website figured out, stat. I need something edgy to make me stand out from the crowd.”

  She already knew she stood out from any crowd, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of saying so. Instead I sat, silent, waiting for her to continue.

  “As I said on the phone, I loved the sites you did for those bars,” she said. “What was the last one called? The Hub? It’s fantastic. I was thinking...” She spent the next few minutes describing her company’s vision, how she wanted to start out with upscale apartments and then ge
t into new developments. “My father’s in real estate, too,” she said with a smile.

  “How fortunate.” I wanted to congratulate myself for keeping the acidity out of my tone.

  “Yes, I know. I’m a fortunate, lucky, spoiled brat.” Pulling a face, she added, “But I’m going to work my ass off. Show everyone I can do this.”

  “What’s the name of your company?”

  She shook her head, took a sip of her black coffee and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “You’d think I’d have figured that out by now, what with the months of planning, but I still can’t decide. I was trying to go all fancy, even mulled over using the Latin word for interior, but it’s—”

  “Penitus,” I said. “Or penetralis.”

  Victoria stifled a giggle. “God, what am I, twelve?” She laughed again, and I joined in despite myself.

  “Your last name’s Gallinger.” I made sure to keep my face steady. “You’re not related to a Stanley Gallinger, by any chance, are you?”

  Her face lit up even more as she put a hand to her chest. “Yes! He’s my dad. Don’t tell me you know him?”

  “Only by reputation,” I fake-gushed. “He’s the living legend of Portland.”

  “Ha. I’ll have to tell him you said so. He’ll get a kick out of it, I’m sure.”

  “Please do.” I leaned back in my chair, let those last words sit, wondering if she’d mention our encounter to him, if she’d refer to me by name, or simply as “a website designer.”

  As I studied her, it dawned on me if I told her who I was, right here, right now, it would be the end of it. Stan would demand she cut contact, and of course she’d bow to his orders. We’d never see each other again, robbing me of the chance to learn anything new about her. The more I looked at her, the more information I yearned for, the deeper I wanted to delve into her life. Now she was in front of me, my appetite to find out everything about my half sister felt insatiable—and maybe I could have a little bit of fun doing it.

  “You could call your company Victoria Gallinger Designs,” I said.

  She shook her head and frowned. “Don’t you think it’s a little—”

  “Pretentious?”

  “How funny. That’s exactly what I thought. You said so yourself, my father’s a legend. Everyone will know who I am.”

  “Isn’t that the point? I mean, why not capitalize on it?” I said, silently thinking—hoping—most people would see it for what it was, a spoiled princess using the family name to get ahead. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not your fault you were born into such an amazing family. Use the leverage. I certainly would.”

  “Would you?”

  “Yes. I have an idea for the logo, too.”

  She clapped her hands and leaned in. “Can you show me?”

  I pulled out my notebook and flipped through the pages.

  “Are those yours?” Victoria said, stopping me midflip. She pointed at the sketch of a woman I’d drawn. She was naked, sitting on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest, her head buried in her hands. “Gosh, that’s amazing. Did you go to art school?”

  “Computer science.”

  “Seriously? And you can draw, too? She’s so...melancholy. It makes me want to know exactly who she is and what she’s thinking. Why is she so sad?”

  I’d rather die than tell her it was supposed to have been a self-portrait, so I shrugged and hastily turned the pages until I got to a blank one, where I drew a circle, wrote VG in italics inside, adding the word Designs underneath, and shaded the letters to make them appear in relief. By the time I was done, it looked great.

  “It’s a rough idea,” I said. “Obviously the finished product would be far better.”

  Victoria put a hand to her chest, touching the diamond-encrusted heart pendant nestled between her perfect round breasts. “It’s what I’ve been looking for. You’re amazing, Eleanor, really. How is it we barely know each other, yet you understand exactly what I want? You—”

  The noise of her cell phone interrupted her, and she fished it out of her bag as I basked in the glory of her words. A delicious shiver ran up and down my spine. She approved of me.

  “Hey, baby, is everything okay?” she said into the phone, her voice even softer, her smile dropping as she listened. “I’m with Eleanor... Yes, for the website...” She looked at me, mouthed, “Sorry,” and frowned. “What? Oh, no. Really? Yes. Of course I’ll come back... Yes. I’ll pick some up right way. Be there in twenty. Okay. Bye.”

  “Is something wrong?” I said as she slid her phone back into her pocket.

  “My husband’s got a migraine and we’ve run out of pain pills. I have to pick some up.” She put on her jacket, her expression changing from excited to flustered in an instant.

  “But the website—”

  “I know, I know. There’s still so much to discuss.” She stopped wrapping her scarf around her neck and hesitated, glanced at her watch. “When can we meet again?”

  “Well, uh...”

  “How about the day after tomorrow, late afternoon if you’re free?” She laughed. “Never mind, it’ll be the weekend, and way too short notice for you, I’m sure. It’s just that I’m overexcited now, but I expect you’re too busy, so—”

  “No,” I said, jumping at the chance, seizing it with my entire being. “It’s no problem.”

  Her face lit up again, the worry replaced by another effervescent smile. “Are you sure? We can put it off until next week. You must have other plans for a Saturday.”

  I pictured my empty apartment. “Nothing I can’t rearrange.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Uh, my friends will understand.”

  “That’s so kind of you,” she said, a hand to her chest. “Would around five be okay? Do you want to come to our apartment? I’ve got tons of books and magazines. I can show you my favorite designs and styles. Maybe it’ll help us for the website?”

  “Definitely. I’d love to.”

  “Great. I’ll send you the address. You can meet Hugh, too,” she continued, almost babbling now. “He wants to meet the people I work with, you know, uh, so he can give me advice. And his ideas are fantastic. He’s really smart. What do you think?”

  “Yes,” I said with a laugh, getting caught up in her enthusiasm. “Sounds great.”

  This time I wasn’t lying or putting on a show, and my plans solidified as I looked at her lit-up face. I couldn’t tell Victoria who I was, not now, in a rush over an empty coffee cup at Jake’s Cakes. She’d offered me the opportunity to get a glimpse of what was behind the luxurious curtain of her life.

  Only a fool wouldn’t take it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  INSTEAD OF GOING HOME after Victoria rushed off to tend to Hugh, I headed south on Union Street. Thanksgiving was almost upon us, Christmas coming soon after, and the Portland party brigade had already begun working their seasonal magic. Soon the place would be transformed into a winter wonderland with sparkling, multicolored trees, giant red-and-white candy canes and glittering garland. No corner, storefront or lamppost would be spared, no street could escape the festive makeover. Eager shoppers already hurried by, bags laden with gift-wrapped boxes. Even the crisp air had joined the party, filling itself with the scent of gingerbread.

  My mind, which had skipped the overdrive stage, zooming straight into warp speed, felt as if it might explode. To escape all the hustle, bustle and razzle-dazzle, I pushed through the crowds, walked past the restaurants and went to the end of the wharf. It was marginally quieter there with fewer people, but still not enough to calm the mile-a-minute thoughts in my brain.

  I’d expected my brazenness to have disappeared since I left Jake’s Cakes, thought it would melt away like chocolate in the summer sun. Victoria had invited me to her apartment, I reminded myself, waiting for the tsunami of panic to hit. In und
er forty-eight hours, I’d get what I’d been wondering about all this time—a look into her life, the inside scoop. Not too long ago the prospect would’ve terrified me, left me tongue-tied and red-faced, ready to run. Now a calmness enveloped me, a thick stone shell keeping any nervousness in check.

  I couldn’t wait to get to her place. Couldn’t wait to meet Hugh, either. I’d examined his face in the photos, already sketched them both in my book, although I’d torn the page out and left it in the kitchen. As for Victoria, well, if tonight was anything to go by, she thought we were on the fast track to becoming firm friends.

  An image of Stan flitted through my brain, and I conjured his voice into my mind. I imagined his praise and congratulatory words of encouragement when Victoria told him about her new website designer, how she’d taken another step toward being an entrepreneur. Then I saw his face paling, falling, knew his pulse would quicken when she mentioned my name, when he understood I’d gone against his orders and found my way into their lives after all.

  I smiled as I looked across the dark water. Playing a game when you were the only one who knew the rules—and made them up as you went along—felt exhilarating and intoxicating.

  The wickedness I never knew I had inside me clambered from the bottom of my heart like a demon. Instead of pushing it away, I greeted it, let it crawl to my ear, tell me this wasn’t a fairy-tale life where things worked out in the end. I had to take charge, and it wouldn’t happen by letting people walk all over me, as I always had. It was time to come out of the shadows, reclaim all the ground I’d given up and rebuild my confidence that had been eroded like cliffs on a storm-battered beach.