The Beautiful Daughters

by Nicole Baart

  Adri wasn’t used to this kind of whimsy. She was a practical girl. And David, though rich and spoiled and perpetually nonchalant, was a practical man. He was very matter-of-fact about his life and the privileges it afforded, and he had no problem admitting that his college degree was nothing more than a formality, a piece of paper that would serve as his ticket into the world of his father’s company—a seat that had, technically speaking, been his since the moment he was born. In his personal life he was sensible and composed, able to take up and set aside the mantle of a playboy as easily as donning a coat. To laugh and joke and drink until his imposing mother slipped into the room, a quiet and watchful revenant whose presence instantly sobered and reined in her son.

  But this. This hesitancy. This softness. This bewitching veil of darkness between them. Adri didn’t recognize this man. But she wanted to.

  “It’s you,” David said quietly. A confession. An almost guilty plea for her to understand. To not turn him away. He bent his head over her, his cheek just grazing the top of her head. “Adri, it’s always been you.”

  Adri felt herself brim, and the fullness of every quiet wish and hidden dream overflowed. Then she found herself pressing up and into David, swept along by something she could not restrain. He was there. Warm and alive and more than she had hoped for. He slid his hands beneath the blanket and pulled her closer still, only fabric between them. Adri didn’t stop to wonder how this could possibly work. How he could mean what he said and how they would forge ahead in a world that would wonder how they had fallen together at all. She just fell, and David caught her in his arms and held her against him as if this was what he had intended all along.

  When he kissed her, she knew that she would give up everything for him. Her dreams of a life beyond. The perfection of The Five. Harper. And when his mouth found the hollow at the base of her neck, the place where her heart beat fast and uneven, she swore to herself that nothing else mattered. Just this night. This man.

  But even then, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t anywhere close to enough.

  10

  Sam talked adri into going to church with him on sunday.

  It was a ritual she hadn’t participated in since she was a child, and she dressed for the occasion as if she was getting ready for a wedding. Her closet was full of churchy fare, but it took her three tries to find the right dress, and she hoped that the jewel-green sheath she settled on wasn’t horribly out of date. Adri had never been very chic, but after years in Africa, her sense of fashion was downright nonexistent. Fortunately, she was somewhat more adept with a mascara wand and eyeliner pencil, and her hair had always been wavy and as multidimensional as a calico cat’s.

  “Well, aren’t you just a vision,” Sam said when Adri stepped into the kitchen. She smoothed her hair almost shyly—she wasn’t used to wearing it down—but Sam wasn’t done complimenting her yet. “You look just like your mother.”

  They didn’t talk about Georgia often, because even twenty-some years later, Sam went misty-eyed at the thought of his wife. She had become an angel of sorts, a memory that had somehow taken on every wish and longing that the three remaining Vogts could conjure up. She was their own personal dreamcatcher, and whether or not their carefully chosen mementos of her could be trusted didn’t seem to matter anymore. Georgia Vogt was, and always would be, the definition of perfection.

  But Adri didn’t like being compared to her mother. Not anymore. “Thanks, Dad,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

  “The boys are coming with us this morning.” Sam poured Adri a cup of coffee, seemingly oblivious to her tarnished mood. “We’ll pick them up on the way. Nora decided to spend a few more days in Minnesota.”

  “I think we’d better take two cars,” Adri said after a few moments. “I know Saturday seems like a long time away, but the memorial will be here before we know it and I’ve got lots to do.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

  “We’ll come with you,” Sam said. “I was planning on helping you out today. At least, when I can. I have to milk this afternoon, of course. But I know the boys would like to stick around and do what they can.”

  “Sure,” Adri said, trying to think of a way to politely refuse her father’s help. The truth was, there really wasn’t much to do on the estate, and Adri was hoping to do a bit of exploring on her own. She had already wandered through most of the rooms in the mansion, but she had avoided Victoria’s quarters as if they were quarantined. It felt wrong somehow to nose around in the late Mrs. Galloway’s rooms. But a bout of insomnia had convinced Adri that nosing around was exactly what Victoria knew she would do. She had to. The estate belonged to her, after all.

  And if she knocked off Victoria’s rooms, she could avoid going in David’s a little longer. She hadn’t stepped foot in the garden basement yet, because she couldn’t bring herself to confront the memories of all that had happened there. The love and the hope, but the hurt and the loss, too. The way that she had spent most of her life longing for something that didn’t exist and never had. Just the thought of opening his door and confronting the ghosts that lingered there was enough to make Adri’s heart feel as if it had been dipped in ice water.

  “Thanks,” Adri said. “But really, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to interfere with your Sunday afternoon.”

  Sam laughed. “What do you think I do? Nap? Don’t be ridiculous. I’d love to help you. There’s nothing I’d like more.”

  There was no way out of it. Minutes later, Adri climbed dutifully into the front seat of Betty—they couldn’t take her dad’s truck, there would be no room for the boys—and tried to appreciate the exquisite fall day as her dad drove to Will’s house. Apparently Jackson and Nora lived a few streets down, and Jackson was going to walk over and meet them there. Adri hadn’t yet seen her brother’s home, and she was pleasantly surprised when her father drove through a new development on the south side of Blackhawk and pulled up to a beautiful Craftsman that had wide front pillars and lots of rugged stonework.

  “It’s gorgeous!” she exclaimed, and would have asked for a tour, but Will and Jackson were already on their way out the front door. Instead, when Will slid into the back, she draped her arm over the seat and said, “Nice work, brother. You make a good-looking house.”

  “It’s well built, too,” he said, and though he gave her an “I-told-you-so” wink, there was real pride in his voice.

  “Will designed it,” Jackson said, slamming the door on the opposite side. “I’m the numbers and details guy. Will is the creative genius.”

  “Genius,” Adri scoffed. “Not sure that’s what I’d call it.”

  The banter felt good, but when they pulled into the parking lot of the church, Adri found herself at a complete loss for words. She was convinced that there was a whole lot of condemnation here, and a bunch of people who knew the girl she had been—not the woman she was. She didn’t know how to reconcile the two, or how to face the people who would undoubtedly hate her if they knew the role she had played in the demise of the Galloway family. The Galloways were not exactly beloved in Blackhawk, but they were an integral part of the community, and people were fiercely loyal—even if they weren’t exactly affectionate.

  In less than a week, these same people would flood the estate, invited by tradition. When someone died in Blackhawk, the community showed up en masse, carrying casseroles and waxy-leafed houseplants, condolences like sweet candy they could dole out as comfort. After Liam passed there had been no such public send-off, but Victoria’s wishes had been express: she wanted an open memorial. And Adri had no doubt that the entire town would attend.

  “Dad,” she whispered as everyone else was piling out of the car. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  He was tucking the car keys into his pocket, though most people in Blackhawk simply left them in the ignition. “What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely confused.

  “I really don’t want to see a bunc
h of people. Not right now.”

  “We’ll sneak in the back.”

  “Dad.” Adri gave him a knowing look. Everyone loved her father. It was hard for Sam to go anywhere in Blackhawk without pausing for a lengthy conversation with nearly everyone he met.

  “I promise.” He lifted his hand in a three-fingered salute. “Scout’s honor.”

  Adri resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but when her dad pulled out the salute, there was simply no arguing. He meant what he said and he said what he meant, and Adri followed him into church like a reluctant puppy.

  Every face in the foyer was familiar. A few people stared, their attention a mix of curiosity and greeting, but only one person took the time to address her. It was a poised, older woman with a thin but genuine smile, and though Adri tried to place her, she couldn’t.

  “Welcome home,” the lady said, patting Adri’s arm. “We’ve missed you.”

  “Thank you.” Adri nodded, because she didn’t know what else to say.

  The rest of the service went off without a hitch, and Sam kept his promise by escorting his entire entourage out before the postlude. Sam wore a satisfied half-grin that exposed his delight at having both of his children with him on a fine Sunday morning. Adri took comfort in knowing she had performed her daughterly duty.

  They picked up a paper bag full of carne asada tacos, hot, homemade tortilla chips, and fresh salsa from a motor home that had been converted into a portable restaurant and parked beside the Kum & Go. It hadn’t been around the last time Adri was home, but Will assured her that Paco’s made the best tacos, even if the name was a bit of a joke.

  “The guy who owns it is Ernesto, but Ernesto’s Tacos doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.”

  Instead of going back to Maple Acres, Sam drove straight to the Galloway mansion so they could eat poolside. It was a gorgeous day. So pretty, in fact, that Adri seriously contemplated a swim. The free-form pool was hardly comparable to the ocean she was used to, but she missed the sensation of water against her skin, the weightless floating that always made her feel as if she was a natural part of the world around her, nothing more, nothing less.

  But by the time they had decimated the bag of chips and Jackson had scooped the last bit of salsa out of the plastic tub, Adri wasn’t thinking about church or swimming or even the expectations of the men who surrounded her. She felt unmoored and edgy about the entire morning. Something about the older woman in the church fellowship hall felt distinctly off to her, and it nibbled at the back of her mind like a worried mouse.

  “Who was she?” Adri finally asked as they cleaned up their tinfoil taco wrappers and swept crumbs and bits of cilantro from the little round end tables beside the lounge chairs.

  “Who was who?” Sam wasn’t really paying attention, and Adri was glad her question hadn’t piqued his interest. He didn’t even look at her; he merely kept collecting remnants of garbage.

  “That lady in church. The one who spoke to me before the service.”

  Sam straightened up and looked confused for a minute. Adri thought it was because he was trying to remember, but it became apparent that he was bewildered for a different reason entirely. “You don’t remember her?”

  “Should I?”

  “Adrienne, that was Katherine Holt.”

  “Katherine?” Adri was dazed. The last time she had seen Katherine Holt was at David’s funeral. She had been weeping softly, bent almost protectively over Victoria, who sat in the front pew of church, seemingly carved from stone. In a way, they had both mothered David. Adri had sat on Victoria’s other side, though there was a space between them that could never be bridged. It had been torture for Adri to sit there at all, inhabiting a place that she did not want or deserve.

  “She has Hodgkin’s lymphoma,” Sam said. “She finished up chemo this summer and is undergoing radiation.”

  That explained the silver pixie cut and the willow whip of her tiny waist. The Katherine Adri had known had been more substantial somehow. Made of more than breath and bones.

  Katherine was a brilliant woman, an old maid if one chose to refer to her in such an antiquated way, who dedicated her life to tutoring some of the most elite students in the country. She had spent her younger years crisscrossing the map, going where the pay was good and the children worthy of her time and attention. When she took David on, she was nearing retirement and ready to settle down. She ended up falling in love with both her student and Blackhawk, and she never bothered to leave.

  Katherine was also the closest thing to a friend Victoria ever had. At least, as far as Adri could tell. When The Five started hanging out at the estate, the only visitor that Victoria ever received was Katherine. It was obvious that even though she was no longer tutoring David, she had a special place in both their hearts and their home.

  “She was with Victoria all the way up until the end,” Will said, joining the conversation even though he was deadheading geraniums halfway around the pool. “You rarely saw one without the other.”

  “Katherine wasn’t mentioned in the will?” She made it a question, even though she knew the answer full well.

  “I guess there was no reason to leave anything to her. Victoria took good care of Katherine for years. And in the end Katherine took care of Victoria. I’m sure they settled their own debts. Made their own peace.”

  “I was rude to her,” Adri said quietly, fumbling for something, anything to say.

  Sam made a dismissive noise. “No, you weren’t. You were perfectly nice. Besides, the service had already started. Everyone was hurrying to their seats.”

  “I would like to talk to her.” Adri realized she was standing stock-still, wrappers and used napkins crushed in her hands. She tried to smile. “It’s been a long time. It would be nice to catch up.”

  “You’ve got time for a meeting with Katherine? I thought you were busy. I thought you were rushing back.”

  Adri was busy and she did want to rush back. But Victoria had created a sinkhole for her, a place where she had fallen and was now being continually sucked in by guilt and memories and the conviction that she had failed in many ways. It made her sick to her stomach, but there were certain things that could not be left undone. Not this time. Not if she ever hoped to escape.

  They worked for the rest of the afternoon, attending to forgotten details around the estate. Everything looked clean and tidy on the surface, but it was such a huge house, and it had sat all but empty for so long, that there were hidden issues everywhere. All they had to do was look.

  Jackson and Will found a suspicious stain on the exterior wall of the pool house, and discovered upon closer inspection that there was some water damage from a small hole in the roof. It looked as if an animal had bored its way inside; the opening was perfectly dark and circular like a tunnel. But it was more likely that a branch had fallen just so, or maybe an extraordinarily large hailstone gouged the unusual gap during that destructive thunderstorm in July. Either way, it was a problem they could solve, and while Jackson went to get their work trailer, Will found a stepladder and climbed onto the roof to start ripping off damaged shingles.

  Once Sam left to milk and the boys were busy repairing the pool house, Adri found herself climbing the back staircase to the third floor of the mansion. There was no reason to tiptoe—no one was around to catch her snooping, and even if she was discovered she needn’t feel guilty—it was her house, after all. A fact she still couldn’t quite get used to.

  But creep Adri did, and when she finally laid her hand on the cold knob of the door to Victoria’s bedroom, she felt a jolt like electricity surge through her. She had never been in this part of the house before. Never. When David had given The Five the official tour of the sprawling mansion, he had brought them to the very top of the stairs and motioned toward the east wing with a dismissive wave. “My mother lives there,” he said. Not “she sleeps there” or “her b
edroom is there.” She lives there. As if the mansion was an apartment complex and Victoria rented out 3B. And when The Five got used to being around the estate, they learned that David’s assessment of his mother’s patterns was very accurate. She didn’t often leave her quarters. It was almost eerie.

  The door opened noiselessly and the heavy wood paneling swung inward so smoothly that Adri was tugged inside. She found herself standing in a small, prettily allocated drawing room with another door centered in the wall across from where she stood. One of the mansion’s marble fireplaces filled up the west wall, and clustered around it were a plush, saffron-colored couch and a trio of chairs. They were high-backed and ornate, obvious antiques, though they had been reupholstered in a rich tweed that was simply too pristine to be original. It looked as if no one had sat in the chairs. Ever. Light from a floor-to-ceiling window on the opposite wall bathed the room. There were no curtains or shades, and because the sun was shining madly, Adri almost felt like she needed sunglasses. Except for the scant pieces of furniture, the room was empty.

  Adri let the door fall shut behind her, and stepped into the center of the room. At first blush, it was a bright and welcoming space. But there was something strange about the bare walls, the utter lack of a personal touch in any aspect of the design or decor. No books, knickknacks, or photographs stood on end tables. There was not even a throw blanket or a pillow out of place.

  A slow, disappointed breath leaked from between Adri’s lips. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but she was sure now that there would be no miraculous revelation to be had in Victoria’s rooms. The austere, self-controlled woman who had reigned with such a sure and careful power would never leave hints like dirty fingerprints betraying the things she had done or felt or believed. It was a mildly depressing revelation.