“I don’t just stand around like that, Gage. I’d been dancing. I spend much of my time in this room. When I’m between dances, I look out the windows because I don’t enjoy looking at the aging woman in the mirror.”
“You’re not at all old,” he said, wishing he hadn’t said it. No sense in doling out compliments.
She crossed her arms but said nothing.
Gage grasped the barre to the right and gave it a shake. “Your mother told me you’ve danced since you were five.”
“Like she’d know. I bet she didn’t come to five of my recitals. I performed in more than fifty.”
“That’s too bad,” Gage answered. “What about your father?”
“He never came to a single one.”
Feeling awkward, Gage walked to the front windows.
As he did, from the corner of his eyes, he saw Katja open her robe. He couldn’t help but turn back to her. She was wearing a dark tan nude leotard underneath her silver, shimmering top and bottom—so, she hadn’t been scantily clad.
“Satisfied?”
He shrugged and looked at the manor house.
“We’re done up here.” She brushed by him and glided through the upper hallway and back down the stairs. He followed.
Gage reached the bottom landing and went for the door but she halted him.
“What now?” he asked.
She didn’t reply. Even with the tall clogs, the top of Katja’s head only reached his chin. She inched toward him, still eyeing him with that same smoldering glare. When she stopped, she stood a few inches closer than social grace might dictate. Then, surprising Gage, she took a step closer, until they were almost touching. Her right hand went to his chest, rubbing his sweater over the contours of his muscles.
He backed up.
“Ah, ah,” she admonished, moving with him. “I won’t do anything—I just appreciate the human body. You obviously lift weights, but you’re genetically blessed, too. Have you been exercising in the basement?”
“Yeah.”
“I like it. Male pectorals are second only to the male buttocks.”
“Thanks. I really should be—”
There was a brief scraping sound from outside before Katja’s front door opened. It was Ina, wearing her trademark skintight pants and a running jacket. Her sandy hair was held back by a white wrap.
Gage backed up a step and knew he probably looked guilty. “Hi, Ina.”
“Hello, yourself,” Ina answered, alternating her vision between Gage and her sister. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No,” Gage replied.
“Hmm,” Ina mused.
“Let’s have a talk,” Katja said.
“Here?” Gage asked.
“This way.” She led him around the stairwell and into a room at the rear of the house.
In Gage went. “Will this take long? I need to check on your mother.”
“Five minutes,” Katja answered.
The two women remained standing, on opposite sides of a room Gage would describe as a den. It had several sofas and chairs, with a wall of books and a colossal television. The floor was sunken in the middle, topped by a white shag carpet in the lower area that was made to look like a polar bear rug. Gage noted the high quality surround sound system, and a small wet bar near the television. Outside, the snow had begun to fall again.
Katja spoke first. “Since you arrived, and since our mother cut us out of our inheritance, the two of us have spoken at length about our father’s death.”
Ina eyed Gage. “The two of us talking this much is not normal.”
“Then perhaps something good has come from all this,” Gage remarked.
“What our mother has done is wrong,” Katja retorted.
“It’s a crime,” Ina added. “We were born into this dysfunction. It wasn’t our choice.”
Gage pondered his response for a moment. “While I don’t disagree with some of what you said, I’m not sure what you want from me. I don’t have anything to do with your inheritance or your mother’s decisions.”
“You need to make her understand,” Katja countered. “She obviously trusts you because that’s why she had you sit in on the meeting with us.”
“She did it because she’s scared,” Gage answered.
“Scared of what?” Ina asked. “That one of us will harm her?” Ina turned to her sister. “See, this proves she’s lost her mind.”
“Worse, now she won’t even meet with us to hear our pleas,” Katja griped. “And all this started when you showed up.”
“I have nothing to do with any of it,” Gage said, feeling outnumbered and far out of his element. “She approached me when she was in the U.S.”
There was another bout of silence. He eyed the two sullen, angry sisters.
They’ve had decades to kill either of their parents, so why would they do it now?
This question had bothered Gage every day he’d been here. He’d been able to busy himself with tasks such as learning the security system and bolstering the manor, but the thought of a family being torn apart over an accusation that may not be true had truly affected him. In fact, he’d actually taken some action on the subject—though he’d dare not say now.
Regardless, perhaps this was his best chance to assist the sisters—as unpleasant as they might be.
They were speaking—civilly, for a change—to one another. He interrupted.
“How can I help you?” he asked.
“What?” Ina sneered.
“If you’re telling me the truth, then maybe I can—”
“We are telling the truth,” Katja cut in.
“If…you’re telling me the truth,” Gage replied patiently, “then I’d absolutely like to help you. And I do have your mother’s ear, for whatever reason, though she seems rather adamant when it comes to this subject.”
“Convince
