Making me paranoid with every new whisper, every new look.
I observed the view—nearly every room in this house was witness to the great spread of heaving ocean, with its folding sky above—the sky, clouds and water-mass one big block of never-ending blues and grays: patterns within patterns. Shapes upon shapes.
I needed no art in this house. I lived inside a moving painting.
I heard movement above me. Breakfast. Talking. The triplets getting ready for work. Jen would no doubt be wearing some beautiful floaty dress. As a receptionist at her expensive hotel, she needed to look the part. And Kate would be dressed in hiking gear. I heard her footsteps clad in her work boots—heavier than Jen’s but sprightlier than Dan’s—make their way to the driveway. Dan’s hurried pacing next. The thud-thud across the living room floor. The front door clunked shut. The roar of his car’s engine, the crunch of gravel, the squeal of tires. Both were gone. I then remembered it was Jen’s day off.
She and I would be alone.
I sensed her presence. Light as a ballerina. Heavy as a judge.
It was only a matter of time before she’d figure me out.
Jen found me in the bathroom. I hadn’t bothered closing the door because it hadn’t crossed my mind that anyone would barge their way in. But of course Jen would barge her way in; how could I have overlooked her tenacious and curiosity-killed-the-cat personality?
“We need to talk,” she said. She stood at the doorway. Wearing my bathrobe with confidence: teal blue silk, shimmering like cool flowing water. It reached her fine, delicate ankles, so delicate they looked as if they could be snapped in two.
“You’re wearing my dressing gown,” I pointed out.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll take it off if it bugs you. Just thought you looked so pretty in it. I love sharing clothing with best friends, don’t you?”
Jen didn’t even care that I was naked. Stood there, quite happily. I didn’t know whether to be flattered (“best friends”) or ashamed. I covered my breasts with crossed arms and wished I’d used bubble bath and not just oil. I loved that dressing gown. Juan had bought it for me in Paris. Along with some sexy silk underwear. But with my head groggy from lack of sleep, I wasn’t in the mood to admonish Jen for wearing my robe.
“I would’ve brought you a cup of tea, but we’ve run out,” Jen said, tucking a tendril of glossy hair behind one ear. In the light, her hair shone like spun gold.
“Run out of tea?”
“You’ve gotten us hooked on it.”
For a second my blood bubbled. “How DARE you lot be so greedy with my tea!” I yelled, shaking. They had no idea how to make tea. I’d seen them heap in not teaspoons, but tablespoons of loose tea, piled high. And then dump the wet leaves into the garbage and start over again once they’d finished a pot. The art of adding boiling water hadn’t occurred to them, despite my showing them how it should be done. My last lot of tea was from Harrods, and Fortnum & Mason, another gift from Juan, my special stock wiped out. Even the Lapsang Souchong, which they had scoffed at because of its smokiness, must have all been consumed. My hands were trembling.
“I’m so sorry, but, hey, calm down, it’s just tea. I can get you more.”
I sucked in a breath and counted to ten to combat my temper. Jen was right, it was just tea. I was being mean and chintzy. Being an only child sometimes made me forget to share. They were still kids. I should be delighted they had taken to my country’s national drink.
Lighten up.
“You know what?” she said cheerily. “Way better than tea, I’ll bring you some of your champagne.”
My eyes lit up. I could taste the soft, rose-hued bubbles on my tongue already. The sweet, fresh, zesty fruits. “But it’s the squawk of dawn, Jen.”
“So?”
“I haven’t had a drink for weeks,” I fibbed. “I’m trying to give up, I’m trying to—”
“Just one little glass of Mumm won’t hurt. You need to wind down. You’ve been working too hard lately at Mr. Donner’s. Relax. Now lie back, just chill out. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” The triplets loved teasing me with my silly expressions and clichés.
Jen left the bathroom before I could protest further. I peeked from half-mast eyes to catch the sight of my blue robe shimmering as she glided out of