no big deal, but doing it in four-inch heels was more of a challenge. Ten years ago, she hadn’t given it a second thought, but she was closer to forty now than thirty. An incredibly depressing thought, so one she told herself to ignore.
She glanced around as she waited at the light, noting that while it was still chilly March in the rest of the country, in balmy Los Angeles, it was seventy-five and sunny. She’d missed this, she admitted. Paris was exciting, but could be so dreary in the winter, and Italy, while stunning, wasn’t home. At least not since her husband had asked for a divorce. She was back—a total failure in every aspect of her life—but at least she was back where the sky was a perfect blue and being emotionally shallow was expected rather than frowned upon.
She drove into the neighborhood she and her mother had moved to all those years ago after Joanne and Wallace had divorced. The solidly middle-class homes were only a few miles from the refined enclave that was Bel Air, but they were light-years away in class and comfort. Bel-Air-adjacent, she and her friends had always joked.
The house had been part of Joanne’s settlement. Wallace had come into the marriage with family money that Joanne hadn’t been able to touch, but he’d been a successful internist, and his salary and part ownership in the medical practice had been fair game. Joanne had used every tool at her disposal to get not only the house, but as much alimony as she could guilt him into paying. Joanne had resented the divorce and the fact that Wallace had continued to provide for Sage, despite the fact that she wasn’t his daughter. He’d covered her ongoing tuition at the private school she’d attended during the marriage and had put aside some money for college. That money had funded Sage’s move to Europe the summer she turned nineteen.
Sage pulled into the driveway and parked next to her mother’s Lexus. They might be scrambling to pay their property tax bill, but they drove nice cars. An LA thing, she thought as she collected her handbag and the heels she’d kicked off as soon as she’d gotten in the car. Having money was always better, but even if you didn’t, it was important to look as if you did. Around here, appearances mattered more than anything.
Sage got out and locked her car before heading for the front door. For a second, she paused to study the one-story ranch-style house with its big front window and small front porch. So different from Daisy’s mansion, she thought. Joanne’s entire house could fit in the kitchen and family room of Daisy’s house with a few square feet to spare. Here there were only three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The backyard was a decent size, for the area. It was a normal, everyday kind of house. Nothing to be ashamed of, yet she had been. After the divorce, she’d been horrified at the thought of moving and had never brought friends home after school. How could she? They’d all seen Daisy’s house.
Funny how time and distance changed things, she thought as she walked inside. These days she was grateful to have somewhere to stay. Sure, she had to pay her mother a thousand dollars a month for the privilege of her room, but it was worth it. At least for now.
“It’s me,” she called, closing the front door behind her.
The rarely used living room led into an average-sized kitchen, with the family room to the left of that. The master bedroom and bathroom were off to the right and the two spare bedrooms and guest bath were on the other side.
“In here,” her mother answered.
Sage found her mother in the family room, reading a magazine. Joanne glanced up and smiled at her.
“How was your day?”
“Good. I spent the morning doing inventory.”
The annual accounting of stock had required her to start her day at eight, allowing her to leave at four. Of course she’d spent the first three hours without the chance of earning commission, so that sucked.
She was about to go back to her room to change when she recognized the red silk blouse her mother had on.
“Interesting top,” Sage said dryly. “Did you go through my things?”
“I just wanted to have a look-see. This one is especially nice. Is it silk?”
“Yes. It was nearly four hundred euros.”
“I do love quality.” Her mother smiled. “I know you don’t mind. We’re practically