TWO
The west side of the office building faced Puget Sound. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows framed the beautiful blue-washed view. In the distance lay the forested mound of Bainbridge Island. At night, a few lights could be seen amid all that black-and-green darkness; in the daylight, though, the island looked uninhabited. Only the white ferry, chugging into its dock every hour, indicated that people lived there.
Meghann sat alone at a long, kidney-shaped conference table. The glossy cherry and ebony wood surface bespoke elegance and money. Perhaps money most of all. A table like this had to be custom-made and individually designed; it was true of the suede chairs, too. When a person sat down at this table and looked at that view, the point was clear: Whoever owned this office was damn successful.
It was true. Meghann had achieved every goal she’d set for herself. When she’d started college as a scared, lonely teenager she’d dared to dream of a better life. Now, she had it. Her practice was among the most successful and most respected in the city. She owned an expensive condo in downtown Seattle (a far cry from the broken-down travel trailer that had been her childhood “home”), and no one depended on her.
She glanced down at her watch. 4:20.
Her client was late.
You would think that charging well over three hundred dollars an hour would encourage people to be on time.
“Ms. Dontess?” came a voice through the intercom.
“Yes, Rhona?”
“Your sister, Claire, is on line one.”
“Put her through. And buzz me the second May Monroe gets here.”
“Very good.”
She pushed the button on her headset and forced a smile into her voice. “Claire, it’s good to hear from you.”
“The phone works both ways, you know. So. How’s life in Moneyland?”
“Good. And in Hayden? Everyone still sitting around waiting for the river to flood?”
“That danger’s passed for the year.”
“Oh.” Meghann stared out her window. Below and to her left, huge orange cranes loaded multicolored containers onto a tanker. She had no idea what to say to her sister. They had a past in common, but that was pretty much it. “So, how’s that beautiful niece of mine? Did she like the skateboard?”
“She loved it.” Claire laughed. “But really, Meg, someday you’ll have to ask a salesperson for help. Five-year-old girls don’t generally have the coordination for skateboards.”
“You did. We were living in Needles that year. The same year I taught you to ride a two-wheeler.” Meg immediately wished she hadn’t said that. It always hurt to remember their past together. For a lot of years, Claire had been more of a daughter to Meghann than a sister. Certainly, Meg had been more of a mother to Claire than Mama ever had.
“Just get her a Disney movie next time. You don’t need to spend so much money on her. She’s happy with a Polly Pocket.”
Whatever that was. An awkward silence fell between them. Meghann looked down at her watch, then they both spoke at once.
“What are you—?”
“Is Alison excited about first grade—?”
Meghann pressed her lips together. It took an act of will not to speak, but she knew Claire hated to be interrupted. She especially hated it when Meg monopolized a conversation.
“Yeah,” Claire said. “Ali can’t wait for all-day school. Kindergarten hasn’t even ended and she’s already looking forward to the fall. She talks about it constantly. Sometimes I feel like I’m holding on to the tail of a comet. And she never stops moving, even in her sleep.”
Meghann started to say, You were the same way, and stopped herself. It hurt remembering that; she wished she could push the memory aside.
“So, how’s work going?”
“Good. And the camp?”
“Resort. We open in a little more than two weeks. The Jeffersons are having a family reunion here with about twenty people.”
“A week without phone access or television reception? Why am I hearing the Deliverance theme music in my head?”
“Some families like to be together,” Claire said in that crisp you’ve-hurt-me voice.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I know you love the place. Hey,” she said, as if she’d just thought of it, “why don’t you borrow some money from me and build a nice little Eurospa on the property? Better yet, a small hotel. People would flock there for a good body wrap. God knows you’ve got the mud.”
Claire sighed heavily. “You just have to remind me that you’re successful and I’m not. Damn it, Meg.”
“I didn’t mean that. It’s just … that I know you can’t expand a business without capital.”
“I don’t want your money, Meg. We don’t want it.”
There it was: the reminder that Meg was an I and Claire was a we. “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing. I just want to help.”
“I’m not the baby girl who needs her big sister’s protection anymore, Meg.”