Dad swung open our red front door, clunking my suitcase onto the carpet. Mom’s dark head hovered over the sink, a potato in her hand. Her face lit up when she saw me, and she dropped the potato with a thump.
“Lucy, my girl, there you are.” She dried her hands and rushed up to me, damp fingers wrapping me in a hug. “How I’ve missed you. Sometimes I wish we’d never sent you to that school. It’s so far away.”
I hugged her back with stiff arms, almost robot-like. The warmth I’d hoped for didn’t materialize, from her or from me. As if we both knew what was coming. “I’ve missed you guys, too.”
“Natalie, let the girl get situated. She’s had a long flight.” Dad lugged Pinky soundlessly down the carpeted hall.
Still Mom clung to me, as if she couldn’t let go. “I just hope you know how much I love you.”
I sucked in a shaky breath. “I know, Mom. I love you, too.”
When she released me, tears sparkled in her eyes. “If I could change the way I handled things, I would. But I want you to know that I love James just as much as I love you and Paige. Your dad loves him, too. He’s a good man.” She waved her hand in front of her face, as if she were swatting at a fly. “But let’s not worry about this now. You get freshened up for dinner.”
“Sure, Mom.” I mumbled as she planted a kiss against my hair. I trudged to my room, shutting the door with a bang. How could she just dismiss everything away with a swat of her hand? As if it was no big deal that James was only my half-brother lost somewhere in Europe. Did we have to play the Keeping Up Appearance game in our own home?
The flowers on the wallpaper leered at me, the pink polka-dot duvet cover mocking me like they had known all along. I was such a child for believing Mom’s lies all these years. I flopped onto the bed, freshly washed with snuggly softener as if it were some kind of peace offering that could make up for years of secrets. I wish.
A timid knock at the door nudged me from my self-inflicted agony. “Come in, Paige.”
My little sister peeked her dark head through the doorframe. “Hey, you. It isn’t that bad being home, is it?” She plucked a tissue from the box, handing it to me.
I dabbed at my eyes. “No, it’s just Mom. We’re sort of feuding.”
“Yeah, I got that. What’s it about this time? Another future senator she wants you to date?” Mirth danced in my sister’s chocolate brown eyes.
“Something like that. When will she figure out that I don’t want to be a debutante or a trophy wife?” I ruffled Paige’s fun new hairdo.
“Tell me about it.” She plopped down next to me, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “What do you think?”
“They let you go ombre at thirteen?” The entire bottom half of her raven locks were streaked with caramel and gold highlights.
“Tweens even get a discount.” Her amber-brown eyes lit up as she fingered the ends of her hair. “My own little rebellion.”
I curled my lips at her. “I can appreciate that.”
Her baby-doll smile faded fast. “Listen, you should try to make nice with Mom and Dad. I heard them arguing the other day about yanking you out of Montrose.”
I jerked back, my heart in my chest all of a sudden. “Even after Jake stalked me all the way to campus? No way, I couldn’t stand being back at school with him and Becca. I bet everyone still thinks I’m psychotic, as if they never knew me at all. I’ve got enough lies to deal with right now.”
Her tiny hand covered mine. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve never given him your new number. If I had known ...”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t make him come to New York.” I squeezed her palm. “Just try to keep them off my back, will you?”
She squeezed back. “You got it, sis.”
I watched as she tiptoed out of my room, leaving the door open. It couldn’t be easy for Paige, being caught between Mom and Dad. She was made of tougher stuff than I ever realized.
I padded to the bathroom, splashed some water on my face and applied a quick touch up to my foundation.
As soon as I reached the kitchen, Mom handed me the salad bowl. I set it down and slid into my chair, sensing my stubborn streak waking up inside me. Better to stay out of the way and not make things worse.
At dinner I quietly munched my salad, our traditional pre-Thanksgiving dinner to leave room for heavy feasting tomorrow. I answered every one of her questions with a simple yes or no until Mom slammed her bowl on the table.
“Why are you being so sullen?” She gave me the evil eye.
“I’m just trying to be polite.” I shoved another forkful of lettuce in my mouth.
“Right.” She sniffed, her knuckles white on the bowl. “You’re just trying to say as little as possible.”
“Maybe so.” I munched on my tomato slice, desperately trying to tame the spurts of anger buzzing through my nerves.
“That’s not good enough.” She pried her clutches from the bowl. “We need to talk about your hostility issues. I don’t know if I want you to go back to Montrose.”
“My hostility issues? I’m not the one slamming bowls onto tables. My issues have nothing to do with Montrose.” I didn’t dare meet her gaze, staring at Paige instead. “They’d only be worse if I came home and you know it.”
“Maybe so.” She cocked her head, obviously mocking me now. “But
