imagine. Father stays at the villa a good three months of the year. He enjoys Melissa and being with me, naturally. His wife is tolerable, just barely. You’ve met her, haven’t you? Holly’s a bitch, but as I said, sufferable if you know how to handle her, which I do very well. Last trip, she stayed at home. She’s jealous of me, you know. Father took a mistress after he’d been married to Holly only two months. He won’t ever be the faithful type, as your mother soon discovered after her marriage to him. You’ve changed—a bit.”
“I’m an adult now. I handle things. He was probably never faithful to your mother either, Sydney.”
“My mother died! You know that. He loved her and only her, and when she died, he changed, gave up.”
Lindsay opened her mouth, then closed it. She’d overheard Lansford, the Foxe butler, say to Dorrey, the cook, years before, how after the first Mrs. Foxe had run away from the judge, she moved to New Zealand. It appeared she hadn’t died. But surely Sydney knew this. Surely she just liked to pretend it was otherwise. She had the upper hand again. She smiled. “Is there something special you wanted to see me about, Sydney?”
“For God’s sake, why do I have to have something special in mind? You’re my sister.”
“I’ve been your sister for twenty-three years. Why now? It’s been five years.”
Sydney said nothing. She sipped her tart chardonnay. She found Lindsay’s attempt at sarcasm mildly amusing. Five years should have wrought some improvements, so the attempts at sarcasm were a help. What to tell her? She’d dangle her on the line a bit longer.
“Perhaps I’m really here to find some young virgins for Alessandro. He likes a new crop every year. You could probably throw yourself at his feet now and he wouldn’t spare you a second glance. You’re just too old, your face and your body. Do you know that Alessandro told me that you would become beautiful? He used to say that and I’d laugh because all I ever saw in you were skinny legs, elbows that stuck out, and a mop of hair that looked like a lawn mower had plowed through it. Of course he preferred you all skinny arms and legs and innocence. Seeing you like this, perhaps he would still want you. Perhaps he would even admit he’d been wrong. I’ll ask him.”
Lindsay was frozen.
“You still think about that night, do you? Really, Lindsay, what’s plain old simple sex compared to shooting your husband two times? I do remember the look on his face. Absolute astonishment, and then he toppled off you.” Sydney shrugged. “But it has been five years now, Lindsay. Time for you to forget, certainly. But you know, I’ve regretted many times that I was such a bad shot.”
“I don’t think something like that is all that easy to forget. Why didn’t you divorce him?”
“Scandal, pure and simple. Same reason you didn’t press charges against him. Father was busy working on both of us. And there was so much money at stake. But enough about my husband. How did you get into modeling?”
Lindsay was more than glad to leave it. God, so much and yet not enough. How could one forget? It hurt her throat even to talk about it. She became aware that Sydney was watching her and said quickly, “Demos discovered me last year, in a bar. I’d just quit my job at a small publishing company and a cab had splashed dirty slush on my new suede boots. I was drowning my depression when he saw me and came over. It sounds ludicrously trite, but that’s how it happened. He told me it wasn’t all that uncommon. I like Demos, regardless. He’s smart and he’s fun.”
“More fun than Alessandro?”
Lindsay snapped the stem of the wineglass that held her Perrier. The glass cut into her finger. She sat there looking at the blood welling up.
“Would you like a Band-Aid?”
“Yes, perhaps that would be a good idea.” Sydney wiped the blood off Lindsay’s finger with a napkin, then peeled a Band-Aid around it. “There, good as new.”
“Why did you say that, Sydney? Why do you want to make me feel horrible all over again?”
“I don’t, Lindsay, don’t be silly. But you did have fun with Alessandro, admit it. You were completely infatuated with him for over two years, remember? And you made no move to leave when you discovered I wasn’t in Paris with him, did you? He made you feel so special, didn’t he? Ah, his charm is legendary when he chooses to use it.”
“I was a dumb teenager!”
“Very true, Lindsay. Did you know that Alessandro claims to this day you seduced him? He said he didn’t want you, but he felt sorry for you because you were so awkward and so embarrassing and so, well, damned pathetic, and that’s why he had asked you to Paris, because nobody wanted you and you were so lonely. He had no idea that you were serious about him. He claims you seduced him, that you insisted.”
Lindsay looked at her bandaged finger. She felt stripped, naked and cold, to her soul. It would never end, she knew it now. It would always be there, dark and ugly, lurking, just waiting for her to remember, waiting for Sydney to make her remember. Her part in it, what her father and Sydney believed to be true. Even after five years. She couldn’t let Sydney reduce her to nothing, not now, not like she used to. She was twenty-three years old, an adult.
She looked up at her half-sister. She said very calmly, “What you say certainly makes sense to me. Now that I think about it, poor Alessandro didn’t have a chance against all my teenage charms. Why, I remember threatening to break his arm if he refused to slap me up; I told him I’d scream for all the hotel staff if he didn’t slam a fist in my jaw, not once but at least three times. Yes, it was wonderful. It was a thrill to be ripped up inside. Nothing like it. Something every teenage girl should experience to teach her how much power she has. Well, it’s long over now and if it’s okay with you, I’d just as soon talk about blood sports or something equally tantalizing.”
“You’ve grown some armor, haven’t you?”
“You’re growing tedious, Sydney. Why are you really here? What do you really want? To torment me because you’re out of practice?”
“Oh, no, you were never much of a challenge. You were always vulnerable and you knew it. You never knew what to say even at the slightest jab. You knew you were ugly.”
“Old refrain. Why are you here? What have I ever done to you?”
Lindsay looked at her half-sister, wishing she could understand, wishing she could see into her mind to know what Sydney wanted. God, but she was beautiful. Lindsay felt like a scrub next to her. Beautiful, perfect Sydney with a perfect child and a husband who liked teenage girls.
“Actually, little sister, I brought up my husband just to see your reaction. You say you’re grown up now. I just wanted to test the waters, to see if it was true. Alessandro, believe it or not, is rather a good father, perhaps even a decent husband, as men go. He’s sorry he got rough with you. He wanted me to tell you that. Should I believe him, I wonder?”
“Then why did you say all those things to me in Paris? Why did you follow him? Why did you bring a gun? By God, Sydney, you shot him!”
Sydney just shrugged, a supremely European gesture. “I don’t recall what I said to you. I was upset seeing my little sister fucking my husband. If you’d been on top, why then I’d probably have shot you instead.” Another shrug. “Alessandro is like most men, my father included—forgive me,
“No, I will never see that bastard again willingly in my life. And you’re lying, Sydney. Why?”
“Lindsay, I can see nothing’s changed. Five years is a very long time. You were young and infatuated and silly. He shouldn’t have allowed you to stay at the suite, but he did. It’s over. Just forget it.”
It wouldn’t ever be over, not as long as Sydney waltzed into her life every five years or so and peeled the scab off the wound and poked around. She’d be dead before the memories and pain were finally gone; she knew it, accepted it, and dealt with it.
“I came not only to see you but someone else as well. I didn’t tell you, and I haven’t told Father yet. He’ll scream, I’m sure, but I don’t really care. I spoke to Vincent Demos several weeks ago after I’d sent him some quite lovely photos of myself. In short, dear sister, he wants us to do this layout together. He thinks I’m beautiful and stylish and very patrician-looking, the opposite of you, who appear so wholesome and outdoorsy with the proper makeup and clothes. He thinks two sisters, one of them an Italian princess, the other a model who’s already somewhat established, is very salable. There’s a new Arden perfume that will be coming out, and they’re very interested in the sister approach. You know, a perfume that appeals to two very different types of women.”
Lindsay couldn’t believe this. “He didn’t say anything to me.”
“I told him not to or the deal was off. I wanted the pleasure of telling you myself. Can’t you just see it now?
