The Winters

by Lisa Gabriele

  He peered into the backseat. “You need help with anything?”

  “No. Everything’s being delivered.”

  “Okay, well, some packages came for you earlier. I put them in your dressing room.”

  “Oh good,” I said. I had hoped to put Louisa’s gifts away before Max came home. “Thank you.”

  “I really didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. When you didn’t come out of the car right away . . . you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. I’m just tired. When did you two get in?”

  “About a half hour ago.”

  He stood there expectantly, as if he wanted to tell me something else.

  “Well . . . good night.”

  “Yes, I—”

  “What is it, Gus?” I barked. I didn’t like being near him. Tonight, at the restaurant, I had seen a different Gus, impatient and familiar with Dani, convincing me Max’s concerns were well placed.

  “Well, I just wanted to say, ma’am, that . . . I’m glad Dani has someone like you in her life now.”

  “That’s nice to hear.”

  “She’s not a bad kid, you know. She’s just been through a lot.”

  “Losing a mother is hard, I know,” I said. “Well, good night, then.”

  “Again, I’m sorry, ma’am. I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Please don’t call me ma’am.”

  “Sorry. It’s a habit from the first Mrs. Winter.”

  I practically sprinted across the gravel drive to close the gap between the garage and the house the way a child leaps from floor to mattress to prevent the monster under the bed from grabbing at her ankles. It wasn’t Gus I feared, or even Dani. It was the way the memory of Rebekah constantly shifted and changed. The minute I pinned her down as this way, she became that way. Was she a bad mother or a good one, a devoted wife or a scorned one? I had a stubborn need to define myself in relation to her, so the more elusive Rebekah remained, the more confused I felt here.

  * * *

  • • •

  I went straight to my room and collapsed into bed. Dark ruminations about Dani’s story and the episode in the garage eventually morphed into my dream, the one that always ended with Rebekah holding me under water until I jerked awake with that feeling of dread in my chest and the sense that I had barely escaped something dire. The sun was not yet up. Max growled and sleepily pulled my back into the cave of his body. I hadn’t heard him come in. I spun around to kiss him, deeply, hungrily.

  “Good morning to you, too,” he said. “What a nice way to be woken up.”

  “I missed you,” I said. We kissed some more, his hand snaking up my nightshirt. “When did you get in?”

  “Very late. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “I was out cold, I guess.”

  “How did it go?”

  “How did what go?”

  “Did you find a dress?”

  It felt like a dozen years ago, our time at the store. Had I imagined Dani’s helpful presence, her support and compliments?

  “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  “Among the many attributes about you that I love, you are also decisive.”

  “Well, it’s not fancy, but it’s very me.”

  “Was Dani helpful?” He cocked an eyebrow, trying to make his face seem angry, to no avail.

  “You know about that? That she came to New York?”

  “She texted me when you guys were driving back together. Would you have told me she went with you?”

  “Max, she made me promise not to.”

  He collapsed back onto his pillow. “How can I lay down the law around here if you keep her secrets?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “She said she had fun with you, though. Did you have fun?”

  She told me you were a cheater. Are you, Max? Did you cheat on Rebekah? Will you cheat on me? Maybe you’re already doing it. Maybe that’s why you never invite me to events, or on overnight trips to New York, because you’re seeing someone, maybe that woman, the one who came to Asherley. Why don’t you marry her?

  He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Where did you go just now?”

  I closed my eyes and opened them again, as if to erase the evidence of my thoughts.

  He lifted his head off the pillow to get a better look at me. “There was a funny look on your face, an angry one that I’ve never seen before. Right here,” he said, pressing his finger in between my eyebrows. He scowled, imitating what he’d seen.

  “I didn’t look like that,” I said, laughing, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I’m telling you, a little drama just played itself out on your face. I saw it. What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking nothing. I was thinking how excited I am for the wedding, now that I’ve found a dress. And I was thinking how grateful I was that Dani was there to help me.”

  He looked at me, bemused. “I haven’t quite figured out when you’re lying to me.”

  “It’s true,” I said, smiling, lightly punching his arm for effect.

  “Lying by omission requires talent, and you, my dear, don’t have it. Lucky for you, I find your attempts at mendacity a tiny bit sexy.”

  “I do have a question.” I could broach the subject without betraying Dani. After all, we were going to be married, and wasn’t infidelity something about which you’d naturally ask your betrothed? “Did . . . Rebekah ever cheat on you?”

  He frowned. “What makes you ask that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve been married before and I haven’t.”

  “I don’t think she cheated on me. Are you going to ask me if I ever cheated on her?”

  I nodded.

  “Is this because I’ve been away so much?”

  I nodded again.

  “I promise after November you’ll be sick of me. Whether I win or lose, things will slow down. And there are a number of events in the Hamptons this summer that I’m taking you to, so many you’ll be sick of that part of the job, too.” He searched my face to see if his answer was satisfactory. “Look. I am many things, some shitty, some just plain venal, I know. But I’m no cheater. I never have been, I never will be. I’d divorce you before I cheated on you, and I’d only do that if you stopped loving me, which you won’t, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  He spilled over on top of me. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  And I did. I made the choice to believe him. Doing so also meant I didn’t need to betray any more of Dani’s secrets. If she was testing my trustworthiness, I had just laid an ace.

  Max reached for his watch on the bedside table. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight, just the two of us. I’m glad you’re getting along better with Dani, but you were my friend first.”

  I kissed him and walked over to the window. Whenever I threw open the curtains, I always expected to be hit with the sun, but gray clouds menaced the horizon. Still, I felt hopeful, determined to throw myself with chilly efficiency into the remainder of my wedding plans. Dani would soon grow bored of me, the same way she would tire of Maggie when she became a moody cat with territory to conquer and sharp claws to enforce her boundaries.

  * * *

  • • •

  After a long shower, I made my way downstairs. As I neared the kitchen, I heard Louisa’s voice. Then Max uttered the word “greenhouse,” and I pressed my back against the paneling by the archway, ashamed that my first instinct was to eavesdrop.

  “I disagree completely, Max. I think the great hall is far too formal for a small spring barbecue.”

  “Did she put you up to this?”

  “Actually, she told me not to say anything,” Louisa said, thankfully. “She begged me to stay out of it. I can’t understand why you’re so adamantly again
st the idea. It’s such a good one.”

  “For Chrissakes, what can’t you understand?” Max hissed, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to hold my wedding in that filthy glass cage.”

  “I was in there this morning. It won’t take much to prep it.”

  “How the hell did you get in there?”

  “I used to live here, remember?”

  “I don’t go nosing around your house when you’re not around.”

  “You don’t own half my house. Anyway, all we have to do by my estimation is tighten some panels, lay down a temporary floor, clean the glass, and air it out. The boys that did our pergola could get it done in a week.”

  “Why do you care so much about where I hold my wedding?”

  “Because I quite like her. And I’d like her to be happy here. Because I think she’s working wonders with Dani.”

  “Ha! That tide could turn pretty swiftly.”

  “You have so little faith in that girl.”

  “I know her, Louisa.”

  Footsteps echoed from the main staircase behind me—Dani making her way down to breakfast. Gathering myself, I walked into the kitchen at a quick clip.

  “Louisa, what a nice surprise,” I said, smiling widely and phonily, rushing to kiss her cheek. “Good morning, Max.”

  “Morning, my love. Coffee’s ready. I’m making scrambled.”

  He was trying to conceal the dark mood their fight had put him in.

  “What brings you here?” I asked Louisa while pouring my coffee. My hand was shaking.

  “Oh, you know, I was in the neighborhood and all that.”

  Dani came in holding Maggie, wearing shorts and a pair of green wellies with long yellow laces. “Look, Mags, a kitchen party,” she said, rubbing Maggie’s scruff on Max’s face.

  “And she wasn’t invited,” he said.

  “Don’t talk like that in front of Maggie, Daddy. I don’t want her to feel unwanted, too.”

  “She is unwanted. By me. I’d like her gone by the wedding.”

  “And to think he used to be such a nice little boy,” Louisa said, turning to me. “Max told me you and Dani found a dress. I’m so pleased.”

  “I am, too,” I said, looking over at Dani. “And I was very grateful for the help.”

  Dani shrugged. She was preparing Maggie’s slurry, heated up as I had shown her.

  “It’s a cute dress,” Dani said. “It’s got this little sash—”

  “Shh!” Louisa pointed at Max. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

  Dani rolled her eyes, then placed the kitten on the floor next to the saucer. She began her little ritual of collecting components of her breakfast from all corners of the kitchen—spoon, blueberries, cereal, milk—into one mise-en-place on the island before assembling everything into a bowl like a mad scientist.

  “By the way, Dani,” Louisa said. “I sent invitations to Claire and her parents, but there’s still time to add someone else.”

  She was eating while standing, scrolling through her phone. “I don’t have any other friends.” She turned to address the kitten. “Just you, Boo.”

  “Might help if you went to school,” Max said, “or anywhere beyond Asherley, for that matter.” He was buttering toast like he was angry at the bread.

  No one could ignore the tension in the air.

  “Well, Daddy, I am grounded,” she replied. “And anyway, I do go to a lot of places. I go to Claire’s. I go into town. I go to the city. I went to Paris with Auntie Louisa, didn’t I? And yesterday I went to New York with her,” she said, her thumb pointing towards me.

  “Against my wishes,” Max said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “And you put her in a tricky spot, asking her to lie to me about that.”

  Dani eyed me. “I didn’t ask her to lie,” she said. “I just asked her to omit some things. And did you?”

  We locked eyes.

  “I didn’t say anything to your dad that you hadn’t already told him, Dani.”

  I don’t know if she believed me.

  “Welp, good talk. I think I hear Adele driving up.”

  She took her phone and her bowl and fled the kitchen. Maggie, transfixed by her bootstrap, was left with no choice but to chase her.

  When she was well down the hall, Louisa spoke up.

  “Why are you being such an asshole to your daughter?”

  He took his coffee over to the window and looked out towards the barn. “When we move the last horses to Montauk, I’m going to ask the stables to take Gus on full time,” he said. “There won’t be much around here that a landscape company can’t handle. We don’t need anyone living on the property anymore.”

  “Max, you can’t fire him for driving Dani around,” Louisa said. “What’s the boy going to say to her? No?”

  “It’s more like a transfer. Besides, she’s sixteen soon and she’ll learn how to drive herself around.”

  “I actually think it might be a good idea, too,” I said.

  Max turned around.

  “Oh? Why this change of heart?”

  “I just think Dani might be relying on him too much. She needs more friends her own age.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  Louisa abruptly changed the subject. “Have you two given any more thought to where you’ll hold the reception?”

  Max gave her a weary look. “Yes, Louisa, as a matter of fact, we have. And I’m sorry, but the greenhouse is off-limits.”

  “My dear, would you mind leaving us alone for a minute? I would like to talk to my brother.”

  I tried to signal her with my eyes to give up the cause. “Louisa, I’m perfectly happy to have the reception in the great hall. Really.”

  “I know you are,” she said. Max remained by the window, waiting for part two of their battle. “But that’s not what I want to talk to him about.”

  The undercurrents were starting to feel like riptides. I stood, hoping Max would stop me. But he said nothing.

  “I’ll be down at the boathouse, then.”

  “I’ll bring you your breakfast there in a minute,” he said, with a comforting wink.

  I grabbed a coat on my way out the back door. To be dismissed like that was humiliating. Rebekah would have laughed and said, Louisa, whatever you have to tell Max, I’m sure you can tell me. My greenhouse request wasn’t supposed to have unearthed Rebekah again, but it had, and now I felt like even she had chased me from the house. The horror on Max’s face the night he found me in there with Maggie came back to me. By this point I wasn’t even sure I wanted my reception in the greenhouse. Perhaps I only wanted to occupy a space sacred to her in order to chase out a memory that left me feeling lacking. I was discovering things about myself I didn’t like, things that were entirely new, that had frightening depths. I began to imagine that Louisa had shooed me from the room to continue to assuage Max’s guilt over what happened that night. There it was again, Dani’s story reinserting itself, weaving itself into my narrative. Perhaps Louisa also knew about the other woman, knew that he felt guilty about how she’d upset Rebekah so much she drove off in a rage. Maybe she was telling him right now that he had to forgive himself, that perhaps it was Rebekah’s indifference to him that left him no choice but to stray, and it wasn’t his fault the other woman confronted him at his home. That’s what sisters do, they defend you, they bolster you, they even lie to you if they have to.

  When I opened the door to the boathouse, I was disappointed to find Gus there. He stood cranking the bigger boat down onto its slip, its tarp now removed. It was indeed an Odyssey, about thirty feet, old but in excellent shape.

  “Oh, hey there,” he said, turning the wheel on the pulley. “The stencil arrived for Dani’s Luck. Thought I’d give Winter’s Girl a tune-up. I hope you don’t mind, I—”

  “I do mind, Gus. I’m sorry, but I would l
ike to work in here alone. Can you do this another time?”

  I was taking it out on him, my inability to assert myself with Louisa and Max. I was becoming one of those people who boss the help around because they feel powerless in their own lives.

  “Sure, ah . . . okay. I’ll just . . .”

  “Also, Mr. Winter doesn’t know you drove Dani to New York yesterday. And I’ll leave it that way for now. But you need to clear those requests with him in the future. Or perhaps me, if he’s not here.”

  “But that’s always been part of my job. It’s why Rebekah hired me.”

  At the mention of her name I flared up again. “Well, Gus, things have changed around here!”

  He was about to walk away, eyes downcast, when I heard the imperiousness, the scorn, in my voice. I was disgusted with myself.

  “Wait. Gus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just . . . it’s been a very weird twenty-four hours.”

  “That’s okay. I understand.”

  I felt emboldened suddenly, to prod a little, to ask questions I didn’t dare ask Max or Louisa, let alone Dani.

  “I get the sense you two got along well. You and Rebekah.”

  “I guess we did.”

  “She’s a hard subject to bring up around here. I have so many questions about her. I’ve been wondering, naturally, what she was like. As a person, I mean.”

  He thought for a few seconds, casting about for words. “Well . . . she was great with the horses. She liked . . . nice things. She was busy all the time. Always doing stuff. Kind, too. To me, anyway. She was kind to me.” He thought some more. “I really don’t know what else to say except, well, I mean, she was very beautiful.” Yes, yes, I know about that, for God’s sake. I want different information, not just what I can see with my own eyes.

  “Can you tell me what . . . kind of . . . mother she was to Dani?”

  “Oh, they were close. Yeah. Two peas in a pod, that kind of thing.”

  He was twisting his hands together. I could tell he wanted to leave, to end this inquiry, but his information was just hitting my veins and I wanted a bit more.