A Sin Such as This

by Ellen Hopkins

  I must’ve sounded hurt because she’s quick to apologize. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be curt, but I don’t answer to Graham.”

  Uh-oh. I really want to quiz my sister about the state of her marriage, but I’ll put that on hold. “Okay, then, I guess it’s settled. We’ll probably have to run to the grocery store. And did you girls bring swimsuits?”

  They shake their heads in unison. That would be a negative.

  “We can pick some up while we’re out. In fact, maybe we should just run those errands right now.” Give the feuding couple some space. “I’ll let Eli and Kayla know we’re going.”

  I maneuver the staircase noisily, providing plenty of warning. When I pause outside Eli’s bedroom door, it seems quiet on the far side, so I go ahead and knock.

  Kayla giggles.

  “Shh!” orders Eli, before responding, “Wha-at?” He’s out of breath.

  Guess his alibi worked.

  “Sorry to interrupt. We’re going shopping. Anything you need?”

  “Yeah. For you to leave us alone.”

  Will do.

  “Sure. But when we get back, the girls will want to use the game room. Please expect company down here. Oh, they’re staying over until Friday, too. We plan to go to the beach tomorrow, and maybe take a ride on the Dixie. You’re welcome to come along.”

  “Coming is exactly what I have in mind, although now I’ve got to start over.”

  Kayla snickers again, and I take the opportunity to retreat. I should be used to Eli’s brutal bluntness by now, but it still catches me off guard. “Yeah, well, go easy. I’d hate for you to pull a muscle or something.”

  I don’t wait for a response, and by the time I reach the top of the stairs, the others are waiting by the front door. “Everything okay down there?” asks Mel.

  I wink. “A little too okay, if you catch my drift.”

  “Ugh!” exclaims Jessica. “Are they doing it?”

  “Let’s just say Suz seems to be out of luck as far as the rebound thing.”

  “No fair,” jokes Suzette. “But what I want to know is how he got away with it. She’s been mad for days.”

  “That boy is a well-practiced liar,” I say.

  “All men are liars,” adds Mel. “Don’t forget that. Now, you girls go get in the car.” She watches them exit, and once they’re safely out of earshot, she turns to me. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Who is Sophia?”

  My cheeks burn instantly. “What?”

  “We’ve been hearing about Sophia for days. Who, exactly, is she?”

  Some information is meant to be held close to the chest, at least until there’s no way around coughing it up. I wouldn’t have shared this with my sister independently, but I guess she has the right to know, considering it’s affecting her daughter so personally. I inhale sharply and exhale words.

  “Sophia is Cavin’s ex-girlfriend. He was planning on marrying her until he discovered she had a sizable cocaine habit and didn’t mind enjoying several men on the side, one of whom happened to be Eli. She had moved to New York to produce some off-Broadway dance show, but she’s currently back in Reno, which is where Eli recently hooked up with her.”

  Mel cocks her head. “But Eli isn’t a man.”

  “According to Sophia, he’s all man.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because she told me so. Eli actually brought her here a few weeks ago, and I arrived home unexpectedly. It was when you and I went shopping for the wedding and I decided not to stay over in Sacramento. Anyway, he ran into Sophia at the beach and thought he was safe enjoying her company in my house. I made it quite clear it had better not ever happen again, and then I asked if she couldn’t find someone closer to her age to seduce. When I said Eli was just a kid, she happily corrected me.”

  “That must have been awkward.”

  “To say the least.”

  On our way to the car, Mel says, “I’d be livid if I ever came home to find another woman there.”

  “That would never happen though, right?”

  “It’d better not.”

  We close the door on the subject as we get in the car and start toward town, the girls chattering contentedly in the backseat. When Melody finally speaks, it’s with her usual good cheer. “Where are we going?”

  “There are some shops in Heavenly Village that sell swimsuits,” I suggest. “A bit pricey, perhaps, but I’m happy to spring for them.”

  “How expensive can a quarter yard of fabric be?” asks Mel.

  Turns out, close to fifty dollars each. Both girls opt for bikinis and, surprisingly, so does Melody. In fact, I can’t believe it. “I’ve never seen you wear anything less than a skirted one-piece.”

  “I’ve lost a little weight. I want to try it on, at least.” She disappears into a dressing room. “Come here, Tara. What do you think?”

  While she might not be Sports Illustrated material, she can definitely wear the bikini. “Wow. How much have you lost, anyway?”

  “Almost thirty pounds.”

  “In how long?”

  “A little over six months. It was my New Year’s resolution.”

  “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. You look great.”

  She absolutely does, but for some reason, the phrase that keeps running through my head is “trouble in Paradise.”

  Swimsuits, beach towels, and UV-blocking sunglasses set me back close to three hundred bucks, and that doesn’t include the sand-sifting mat, which adds another 150, or the gorgeous leather handbag I happen across. Replacing the one I’ve got, not even grown ratty as yet, is a three-hundred-dollar expense. The sunscreen we save for the grocery store.

  Turns out, it’s kind of nice having the girls along there. A hot little wave begins to pulse in my knee about halfway through, and I can send them off in search of things, which cuts time on my feet considerably. Plus, they carry everything in when we get home and volunteer to help make dinner. Of course, that’s probably because Eli is playing chef.

  Mel and I sit outside, where a breeze carrying hints of honeysuckle ruffles the evergreens. She sighs. “It’s beautiful up here. I’d consider moving to Tahoe myself, once the girls go off to college.”

  “There are high schools around here, you know.”

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t want to make them leave their friends.”

  Okay, this is a test. “Not to mention Graham’s practice.”

  “Tara, if I ever move, it will be without a husband in tow.”

  “Sounds like something you’ve been considering.”

  Weight loss. New hairstyle and color. And, now that I’m really studying her, more makeup than I’ve seen her wear before. Maybe she’s more than considering. Could it be she’s planning?

  “When I was at Mom’s, I had a lot of time to think. Twenty years is forever to be with a person, and it would be difficult to dissolve our marriage, both emotionally and financially. So I’m not in a hurry to divorce Graham, especially not with a couple of children still living at home and the other less than two hours away. I’m just not sure he feels the same.”

  Inside, the kids are joking and laughing as they go about making dinner. Which is, I suppose, though I’ve no experience with it at all, the way a family should engage. It does make me wonder, however, what Eli said to Kayla to make her forgive him so easily. I think of Mel’s earlier remark: All men are liars.

  “Have you talked with Graham about your future, or possible futures?”

  “We don’t talk anymore. Mostly, we quarrel, if we happen to find ourselves in the same room together.”

  “Just throwing this out there. Lots of couples divorce and their kids manage fine.”

  “I understand that.”

  “So, what’s the point?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Happiness?”

  “What’s that?”

  This can’t be my sister, the eternal optimist, talking. Strange, only months a
go, she wouldn’t have been the one feeling this way. I would have.

  “Can I ask a personal question?”

  “You can always ask.”

  “Are you and Graham still intimate?”

  Her expression reads vexed. “You mean do we have sex?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s kind of important, right?”

  “Not to me.”

  “But you’re only thirty-nine. You really don’t care about sex?”

  She inhales deeply. Exhales dramatically. “It’s Graham who isn’t interested, Tara.”

  That’s what I figured. “Do you think he’s seeing someone?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. Some questions are better left unasked.”

  “I disagree. Not one that important.” Here’s one I won’t leave unasked, not that I expect a confession. “So, what about you? Have you ever considered sex on the side?”

  Mel looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I’d have no idea how to go about that.”

  I smile. “Try joining a gym. It would help you get in shape for your Half Dome hike, too. Oh, by the way. I definitely won’t be accompanying you. I’ll be rehabbing the knee into the New Year.”

  Great segue. I’m tired of talking about Graham. And I can’t comprehend the concept of celibacy before forty.

  Regardless, we spend a very nice evening enjoying each other’s company, not to mention some excellent food. Eli makes chicken cacciatore, which satisfies all of us on different levels.

  Cavin, who missed lunch and is starving when he gets home, because Italian is his favorite, and there’s plenty of it.

  Mel, because the dish doesn’t contain an excessive number of calories.

  The kids, because they all contributed in some way.

  Me, because we eat outside on paper plates, containing the cleanup, which I don’t have to do anyway.

  After that is accomplished, Eli and Kayla go for an evening walk. Cavin, sensing my need to spend more alone time with Mel, ushers the young ones downstairs to play pool and listen to music.

  “I love you,” I tell him as the exodus begins.

  “I know,” he buzzes into my ear. “And you can prove it later.”

  Melody and I watch them go. Wonder if she’s jealous of our obvious sexual connection.

  “He must have been a good dad,” Mel observes.

  “Not according to Eli. But Cavin’s ex moved Eli away when he was little. I don’t think he and Cavin did a lot of bonding.”

  “But they’re making up for it now?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Depends on your definition of bonding, I suppose. More like testing, as far as I can tell.”

  “Sounds like most parent/child relationships.”

  “Maybe. I have nothing to compare it to.” No children of my own. And as for my relationship with Mom, any sort of manipulating boundaries had to be done on the sly. Nothing like Eli’s in-your-face style. And speaking of our mother, “Hey, forgot to mention Mom stopped by on her way to wherever.”

  Mel’s head jerks in my direction. “What are you talking about?”

  I repeat the story about the possible encounter. “Do you suppose, now that she’s gone, the Idaho nightmares will stop?” They’ve been regular visitors for as long as I can remember.

  “Pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

  “I was afraid that’s what you’d say. I’ll probably always dream about Idaho.”

  “Idaho.” The way she says it sounds like a preface, and apparently it is. “Just FYI, I’ve been considering going to Glenns Ferry for her burial.”

  “Why?”

  “Closure.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Mel shakes her head. “I think the way to eliminate nightmares is to confront the source head-on. Idaho is just a place. It’s not responsible for our miserable childhoods. Now that the person who was is no longer a problem, it’s time to find some peace. You’re welcome to come along.”

  I swore I’d never go back there. But maybe she’s right. “When are you leaving?”

  “Monday. Unless Graham strenuously objects, and I can’t see why he would.”

  “Are you taking the girls?”

  “No. Facing down phantoms is best done sans teen drama.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  I can’t believe it. But I will.

  eighteen

  E VEN MORE UNBELIEVABLY, I decide to go. I book a Reno-to-Boise ticket with a Las Vegas layover that coincides with Mel’s on her Sacramento–Boise flight, and reserve a luxury vehicle that will keep us comfortable on the approximately one-hour drive. That’s all accomplished before Melody and the girls head home on Friday morning.

  As promised, Genevieve forwarded Austin Colvin’s invitation to tonight’s party, along with an invitation to lunch next week. “There’s something you should know,” she said, “and it would be better to discuss it in person.”

  She refused further details. Nevertheless, I agreed to meet her on Monday. I remind myself to inform her I’ll be out of town for a couple of days, and will have to reschedule, when I see her at the postperformance festivities.

  Austin also left Cavin and me two will-call tickets for this evening’s show, which happens to be Cabaret. The festival now alternates Shakespeare with a musical. Lucky me. Unlike Taming of the Shrew, this is one of my favorites.

  Our seats aren’t quite as good as those reserved for big donors. But they are close to center in the lower gallery, and right off the aisle, so it’s easy enough for me to shimmy into one and stretch my leg straight if need be. Still, I make a mental note to send in a donation check very soon. I prefer food and beverage service to packing a picnic.

  The cast is sensational, especially the young woman playing Sally. It’s a treat to hear her vocals, and her dance is amazing. Cavin and I enjoy deli-bought sub sandwiches and made-at-home sangria. The evening is lovely, right up until intermission, when I spy a familiar form coming in our direction.

  “Is that Sophia?”

  Cavin follows the direction of my eyes. “I believe it is.”

  She’s on the arm of an older gentleman, who acts quite proprietary. I wish we could avoid engaging them, but when they’re around two feet away, she looks me directly in the eye before turning her complete attention toward Cavin. “Oh, hello, darling. Always a pleasure running into you.”

  Darling. I kind of want to kill her.

  Kind of?

  Cavin has little choice but to stand and acknowledge her with a quick kiss on the cheek. “You, too. Um, you remember Tara?”

  I feel like an idiot sitting here, so I work my way out of the chair and onto my feet. “Nice to see you.” The tone of my voice makes it clear she’s the last person I want to see, and I plaster myself to my husband.

  “Yes. Well. This is Maury Bernstein. Maury, this is an old friend of mine, Cavin Lattimore.” She waits for the men to shake hands. “Maury and I are here scouting talent. We heard the female lead was incredible. She is, don’t you think?”

  We all agree on that, at least.

  “Scouting talent for a new show?” I ask.

  Sophia turns her focus toward me, and her eyes narrow. “Yes. Well, reviving an old one, actually, and bringing it to Stateline.”

  “Stateline? As in South Lake Tahoe?”

  Her smile is tepid. “Exactly. Seems we’ll be neighbors. Isn’t that nice?”

  It takes sheer force of will not to react in a manner that would make me look completely immature, not to mention feed her incredible ego. Before I can concoct a suitable retort, Cavin cleverly detours the dialogue.

  “Well, I hope your scouting trip is successful. Tara and I were just about to hike over to the restroom. Enjoy the rest of the show.” He takes my hand and steers me carefully away from our seats and across the sand. “You’re fuming, aren’t you?”

  “Who, me? Why would you think so?”

  “Something to do with the smoke streaming out of your ears?”

  “
Very funny.” I don’t know what more to say so I fall silent instead. It’s not like her living closer should change a thing. Reno isn’t that far away, so it isn’t distance keeping Sophia and Cavin apart. He swears he’s been over her for quite some time. He’s married to me, and seems happy that way. Jealousy serves no good purpose other than to drive a wedge between people, and allowing someone like Sophia to sledgehammer my emotions is something I’ve always refused to do. I am, and will remain, in control.

  By the time I’m finished in the ladies room, my temper is curbed, and stays that way through the second act. I’ve almost forgotten there’s a problem, in fact, until we arrive at the Colvins’ party to find Sophia and Maury there, too. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I tell Cavin.

  “The point of this party was to schmooze with the cast, remember? If they’re courting actors, it makes perfect sense.”

  It makes even more sense when I discover Maury and Austin went to college together. That information comes straight from Maryann Colvin, a matronly woman whose stately carriage, not to mention an exquisite teal silk Armani suit, endows her with a solid air of money.

  Austin makes the initial introduction. “You remember Dr. Lattimore, dear?”

  “Of course. Thanks so much for coming tonight. And you must be the new Mrs. Lattimore. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Tara, please. And the pleasure is all mine.”

  Formalities accomplished, Austin adds, “Tara is the lady I told you about who’d like to help out on the fund-raising end. According to Genevieve, she’s quite convincing.”

  Maryann takes my hand. “We can always use assistance encouraging donor generosity. Most people find it not their cup of tea.”

  “Not me. I definitely enjoy it, and do seem to have a talent for it.”

  “Why don’t you two ladies talk, while Cavin and I circulate?” Austin suggests.

  The men begin a counterclockwise sweep of the room and Maryann comments, “We’re so appreciative of your husband’s surgical skill. We quite thought Allison’s injury would sideline her forever.”

  “He is amazing,” I respond. “Professionally and personally.”

  “I understand. And you? What do you do?”

  I offer my most winning smile. “I am independently wealthy.” Which, I think, sounds better than “living off my investments.”