Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Anyone else come by?” Anne asked, her knuckles doing their best impression of Casper along her purse strap.
“Miss Eloise stopped up a couple of weeks ago, but if you’re asking if your sister has been here . . .” Rachel shook her head.
“Of course she hasn’t,” Anne muttered.
We turned left into the north wing, passing a few rooms with closed doors, classical music streaming through each of them.
“And how is her mood today?” I asked, my stomach twisting. On her worst days, I was mostly limited to yes or no answers when she deigned to speak with me, especially after I’d embarrassed her when I fell in January, but she was usually in a good mood for Anne.
“So far it’s a good day,” Rachel said with a thoughtful nod. “She did yell at one of the new staff members, but they were late.”
“Understandable.” Anne paled as Rachel opened the six-paneled double doors into Mom’s suite.
It was decorated in pastels, every piece hand selected by Mom, from the tasteful seating arrangement with its tufted love seat and matching chairs to the similarly upholstered headboard on the heavily pillowed bed. The walls were covered in black-and-white photographs of both us and Mom at the different stages of our career. The lone photo of Dad sat on her nightstand, the glass smudged with fingerprints.
And Mom stood at the far end of the suite by the enormous windows, her profile to us, painting yet another picture of yet another ballerina. Her hair was pinned neatly in place, and those tailored black pants and pink blouse didn’t have a speck of paint on them, from what I could see.
“Sophie,” Rachel called out gently. “Your daughters are here, and you have about twenty minutes before your next class.” She gave us both a pat on our backs, then slipped out the door, leaving us alone with our mother.
Anne and I looked at each other, and when I lifted my hands, so did she.
One. Two. Three. I mouthed silently, then threw my hand flat.
Anne had two fingers pointed out.
Scissors beat paper. Crap.
“Mom?” I walked forward across the gleaming hardwood floor, passing by the conversation area on my right and the door to her bathroom on my left, stopping when I was about ten feet away. “Anne and I need to talk to you.”
Her head turned my way, and her withering gaze swept over me, lingering on my Vans. She opened, then shut her mouth, like she couldn’t believe what I was wearing. “Fifth.”
Ugh. I let loose a sigh and shot Anne a look.
“Fifth!” Mom shouted.
I placed my feet closely together in opposite directions, right before left.
“Sloppy feet.” She went back to applying the delicate lines of the ballerina’s skirt.
At least the critique was quick and succinct. “We wanted to ask you about Lina.”
Her brush paused for a heartbeat before continuing on as if I hadn’t spoken.
Foolishly, I charged ahead. She might not ever want to talk about her, but we needed answers. “Anne and I have been at the beach house, just like you wanted,” I told her, hoping the fulfilled request might put her in a more amiable mood. “The one in Haven Cove.”
“Studio needs waxing.” She continued painting. “It’s dull. Lifeless.”
“We’ll have it done,” I promised.
“Like your dancing. Dull. Lifeless.” She picked up the water cup and rinsed the brush. “No fixing that.”
Ah, and we’ve moved on to the insult portion of the visit. Excellent. I looked over my shoulder at Anne, blatantly begging for help.
“And Allie’s been seeing Hudson Ellis,” Anne said, coming my direction, opening her purse as she walked.
Mom’s brush paused in the pink paint, and I flinched even though I’d known the plan. If Mom knew about Juniper, there was a chance she’d know who was raising her. “River boy?” Disdain dripped from her words.
“That’s the one.” I managed not to sigh. The first time Mom had caught me with Hudson on the beach, she’d told me, “That boy is like the river. Pretty to look at, but we don’t swim there.”
The second time she’d caught me, I’d been grounded to the house for two weeks and sentenced to extra hours in the studio.
“It’s good to see you, Mom,” Anne said, and I could only hope she’d have better luck.
Mom gave her the same appraising examination, then smiled. “Anne.”
That flare of hope behind my ribs shone a little green.
“Hi, Mom.” Anne walked between us, then leaned in and kissed Mom on the cheek. “Doesn’t Allie look great? She’s already back in the studio. She’ll be back on the stage in no time.”
“By fall,” I said, stepping out of fifth. “Vasily might showcase the ballet Isaac Burdan choreographed for me.”
“Second,” she barked.
Seriously?
Anne shot me a pleading look, and I arranged my feet into second position.
“Vasily chooses his interests,” she told Anne, her brow furrowing as she glanced back at me. “Sloppy.”