When We Were Sisters: An unputdownable book club read about that bonds that can bind or break a family. Emilie Richards

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СКАЧАТЬ photograph Cecilia’s life—”

      “It was my life, too! Cecilia’s life and mine intersected for years, remember? She says she needs to go back and confront her demons. I’m not sure I don’t, as well. This life with you and the kids isn’t the only one I’ve had. And even if I can’t remember the accident, I bet that life was flashing in front of my eyes as the SUV got closer.”

      Regret transformed his face. For a moment he looked more like the man I married, the one who wasn’t too busy for conversations like this. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. More than you apparently believe. I’m so grateful we didn’t lose you. But my childhood wasn’t all milk and cookies, either. We didn’t know what a leftover was. Some months my family had to choose between electricity or heat. So you know why I work as hard as I do. I want us to be secure, not to worry about whether the kids will get scholarships to a good school, not to worry whether Pet can afford a nice wedding if she wants one.”

      “Right now Pet needs a father, not a husband.”

      “You’re determined not to understand, aren’t you?”

      “I do understand. But you can’t see what your determination not to be like your father is doing to us. Gus is an idealist, an artist, a dreamer, and when you were growing up he didn’t always worry about paying your gas bill. But he was there for you, Kris. He adores you. Cecilia was there for me, and not only don’t I want our children to grow up with an empty space where their father ought to be, I want to do this for my sister. I want to be there for her.”

      If he was moved, this time he didn’t show it. “You said you haven’t decided.”

      “That’s what I said.” I hesitated before I shook my head. “But I want to do this. I need to. If I decide to go ahead I won’t simply walk out on you. I’ll find help, and I’ll come home whenever I can. I’ll call and text and email, and the kids will always know I’m there when they need me.”

      “What good will that do if you’re a thousand miles away? They’re too young to be here alone.”

      “I can hire somebody to be here when the kids come home from school. I’ll make sure she cleans and has dinner on the table by the time you get home to eat with them, too. But I need to do this. The night of the accident? Everybody at dinner had moved on with their lives, and they were all so excited, even if they were feeling overburdened. And me? I had nothing to contribute except the name of Nik’s orthodontist.”

      “You could have dropped Cecilia’s name. That always gets attention.”

      I just stared at him.

      “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly before he rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling instead of me. “But you just don’t have a clue what this will do to my career. The only reason I’ve been able to get where I am is that I work harder than anybody else.”

      “At the expense of your family.”

      “For my family!”

      “No.” I turned away and flipped off the bedside lamp. “I need a good night’s sleep. I couldn’t get one in the hospital.”

      “You’ve pretty well guaranteed that neither of us will get one tonight.”

      I heard him get up and leave our bedroom. I wondered where he planned to sleep, but I didn’t get up to look for him, to try to smooth things over so he would come back to bed. This couldn’t be smoothed over. Because even though I hadn’t said it in so many words, I had made my decision.

      I fell asleep thinking not of Kris or Cecilia, but of Talya. My friend had been so excited about her new job, with so much to talk about. What would I talk about if our monthly neighborhood dinners reconvened?

      My trip into the past with Cecilia, or my impending divorce?

7

      Cecilia

      I have four homes. That’s excessive, I know, but I figure I’m making up for all the ones I never had growing up. Real estate and art are the only investments that make sense to me, and I love to watch run-down properties come back to life under my loving care, along with the talent of architects and designers. But I never give any design professional carte blanche. These are homes, and I want them to reflect my taste. I don’t care how much time or money that takes.

      My home in Manhattan is a neo-Georgian brownstone, and my condo in Nashville is at the top of a high-rise with a sweeping view of the city. I probably spend most of my time in the ecofriendly contemporary I designed and built in Pacific Palisades because I conduct more business in Southern California than anywhere else, not to mention that looking over that stretch of coastline—fondly known as the Queen’s Necklace—is a great way to rev my creative juices.

      Each house is completely different, and I love them all. But my favorite sits directly on the Gulf of Mexico, on Sanibel Island in Southwest Florida. If I could only have one place to call my own, I would be happy forever at Casa del Corazón.

      I’ve been in Sanibel a week, but I never tire of waking here. If I’m up early enough I can look left to watch the sun rise down the beach, and if I’m home early enough I can turn right and watch the sun set. When I bought this slice of paradise I knew I wouldn’t have to choose between them.

      Donny flew in yesterday evening, and a few minutes ago he joined me on the screened porch off my great room to watch the show begin. I was surprised at his interest, since I never think of him as a morning person. But despite years of working closely together there are probably many things we don’t know about each other.

      One thing I do know? We’ve kept it that way on purpose. Neither of us wants to ruin a great working relationship with a lousy personal one.

      I do have a talent for lousy personal relationships. Married once and quickly divorced from a country singer—which is how I picked up the condo in Nashville—I’ve known a lot of men and slept with a few of them. The better I know them the less I like them. There’s a lesson there.

      When the sun proved it could be counted on, I put my arms over my head and stretched. “Sometimes I go down to the beach and walk toward the sunrise and pick up shells along the way. No matter what time of year it is, there are always at least a few other people doing the same thing, and when the sun peeks over the horizon, they almost always applaud. It’s like a prayer.”

      Donny was standing silently at the railing looking out over the water, a cup of cooling coffee in his hands. “My kind of prayer. Heartfelt and doctrine-lite.”

      “Not a churchgoer?”

      “No more than you.”

      “I sneak in and out when I have the chance and sit in the back. I figure it can’t hurt and might help.”

      “You’re nothing if not flexible.”

      I laughed because that’s absolutely true. You can’t be rigid in the music business, not if you expect to get anywhere.

      He stopped ogling the horizon and turned to me. “I’m heading for New York about noon. Can we carve out some time to talk now? We have a lot to go over.”

      “Ginny cut up fruit and warmed muffins СКАЧАТЬ