The Identicals(96)

Harper waits across the street until Tad’s truck turns the corner, then she creeps along until she has a clear line of vision into the backyard.

Oh, my! she thinks. The backyard has been completely transformed. The lawn is now carpeted with green grass. There are beds of perennials and hydrangeas. All the scrub has been removed, and the vegetable garden is gone. How did Tabitha find anyone willing to do this? Harper didn’t think there was a landscaper on the island who was willing to work on a Frost house.

The house seems quiet. Curiosity overwhelms Harper. This is Billy’s house, and for her first ten years on the Vineyard, it was also her house. It’s her house once again, half of it willed to her. She doesn’t have to feel like a prowler or an intruder. She has every right to go inside—more than every right!

She marches up the back steps. The door into the kitchen is unlocked.

Astonished doesn’t begin to explain how Harper feels when she walks inside. She can’t—cannot—believe the transformation. Her mouth drops open as she runs her hand over the stone countertops and as she opens the cabinets, which are the color of burned honey. The hinges are like butter. The wood feels solid and true. The floor is still plywood, but the appliances are in—Sub-Zero fridge, Wolf range, Bosch dishwasher. There’s a separate ice maker! And a wine fridge! She blinks and turns in a circle. This is Billy’s kitchen, right? This is his house?

Harper steps into the living and dining area. The walls have been painted the color of custard, and the floors are random-width heart pine. Was this what was hiding under the carpeting all these years? The floors are sumptuous, and the overall effect of the room is bright, clean, elegant. Harper peeks in the powder room. Gone is the Jaws poster and the unspeakably smelly toilet. The walls are pewter, and there is a sleek white glass column for a sink. Harper didn’t even realize sinks like this existed except in the pages of magazines.

She did it, Harper thinks. Instead of tearing down Billy’s house and turning it into a pile of rubble, Tabitha saved it. Harper feels simultaneously proud of her sister and ashamed of herself for being so shortsighted. Harper tries not to guess how much money Tabitha spent to make this happen. It’s not like she plunked the money down on a craps table in Vegas, though. They will sell this house; Harper can see that now. They will see a sizable payday. Harper isn’t sure why she’s surprised that Tabitha was right about this. Tabitha is always right.

Harper approaches the stairs. The crappy mustard-yellow Aztec-print carpet has been removed. The wooden treads are exposed and now feature a navy-blue wool runner with a white diamond pattern. Classic. Harper looks up. The world’s ugliest chandelier has been replaced by a simple blown-glass globe surrounding an Edison bulb. Gorgeous. A staircase that used to be merely a means to an end is now a work of art in and of itself.

As Harper climbs the stairs, she hears a noise.

“Tabitha?” she says.

Harper peers in the lavender room, which used to be her room. It has been painted a creamy beige; the little bedroom is now sage green. The bathroom between the two has a new pedestal sink and a glass shower stall; it’s in the process of being retiled.

The noise is coming from Billy’s room. It sounds like crying, but that can’t be right. Harper fears walking in on something.

“Tabitha?” she says a little louder.

The noise becomes clearer. Crying. It’s her sister, crying.

Harper pokes her head in the room. The floors are now a deep, rich cherry. Unlike all the other rooms, in which the furniture has been removed, Billy’s king-size bed remains, along with the stacked milk crates that he saw fit to use as a nightstand. Maybe Tabitha is crying because it’s so ugly, Harper thinks, and this makes her smile, although obviously something serious is going on, and Harper mentally prepares herself for the news that Eleanor’s condition has worsened.

“Tabitha?” Harper says, too loudly to be ignored now. “It’s Harper. I’m here. What’s wrong?”

Tabitha lifts her head out of the nest of pillows. Her face is contorted in anguish, her eyes are swollen, her face splotched, her hair tangled. She’s wearing a man’s Hot Tin Roof T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. The shorts are Current/Elliott and retail for a hundred and fifty dollars at the ERF boutique. Harper congratulates herself for recognizing this, and it reassures her that this is, in fact, her sister before her.

Tabitha in a Hot Tin Roof T-shirt, though—wow. There is a first time for everything.

“What’s wrong?” Tabitha says. She plucks a tissue from a box on the milk crates and wipes at her face. “What’s wrong is that you ruined my life. Again.”

“I did… what?” Harper says. “How did I ruin your life this time?” She takes a deep breath and tries to think what she might possibly have done. “I’ve been following your instructions. I take care of Ainsley. She hasn’t had a drink all summer. Hasn’t gone to a single party. Hasn’t gotten in any trouble. And the store—okay, maybe things at the store aren’t exactly the way that you and Mommy want them. But sales are up five hundred percent!”

“I don’t care about the store!” Tabitha says. “I could care less about the store or Mommy. I care about me. For the first time ever in my life, practically, I care about myself.”

“What?” Harper says. “I’m lost.”