The Winters(23)

“Who are you?” she asked, finally.

My hand went to my mouth to stifle a scream.

All I could think to do was run down the stairs and out the door. My elbow caught the corner of a small silver-framed picture, one of a dozen crowding a narrow sideboard, and it fell forward with a tense smack. I stopped to right it and I saw that its glass was cracked like a spider’s web, Rebekah’s smile turned to a sneer. I made the split-second decision to hide the picture in the sideboard’s top drawer and keep running. By the time I slowed my approach to our bedroom and slipped in next to Max, I felt boneless with terror, my heart pounding so loud I thought it might wake him.

Soon, the humiliation of my retreat caught up to me, as did the realization that that hadn’t been Rebekah who hovered over me at the top of the turret but Dani. That was not a ghost I saw, but Dani back from Paris early. Oh good Lord. Why did I do that? Why did I panic and run away? How could my mind have mistaken Dani for a dead woman? Why didn’t I just say, Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought you were Katya. You must be Dani. We weren’t expecting you until Wednesday. I’d extend my hand and introduce myself, like a normal person would. And later, when we told the story to Max, we’d laugh about the scare we gave each other. Instead she was probably up there right now hissing into her phone about what an idiot her father’s fiancée was.

I felt Max stir. I shut my eyes, unable to face my shame just yet. This time he was the one who left quietly in order not to rouse me. I remained in bed for a little while longer, trying to muster the courage to face them. Finally, hunger propelled me down the stairs, following the sound of Dani’s animated voice interspersed with Max’s laugh, loud and booming, the likes of which I had never heard from him before. I crossed the foyer and made my way towards a high archway where the checkerboard floor led to an airy kitchen. There they were, leaning into each other in profile, Max delighted, transfixed by her, while Katya stood over the counter slicing the roast. I felt like an anxious jump roper waiting for the appropriate time to skip into the action.

“. . . and then I call Auntie Louisa right before takeoff, when I’m already on the plane,” Dani was telling a bemused Max. She was now wearing yoga pants and a snug T-shirt, still braless, her long blond hair hanging in wet strands down to the middle of her back.

“You shouldn’t take off on people like that, Dani. It’s becoming a bad habit.”

“I know, but it’s so fun.”

Max finally noticed me.

“There she is!” he exclaimed, opening his arm wide to beckon me over. “I’d like you to meet my lovely daughter, Dani.”

“Sorry to interrupt your story,” I said, heading to the safety of Max’s side. I extended my hand. “It is so nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to see you again,” she said.

As Max had predicted, she glanced down at my ring.

“Cute.”

“You two have already met?” Max asked.

A look passed between Dani and Katya.

“Yeah, uh . . . she poked her head into Mum’s room while I was talking to Claire.”

“What were you doing up there?” Dani rolled her eyes, and Max looked at me. “And what were you doing up there?”

“I got up to use the bathroom,” I explained. “And then I heard someone . . . I thought it was you, Katya. I certainly didn’t mean to scare you, Dani.”

“You’re the one who was scared. Daddy, you should have seen her face. It was like she saw a ghost! Who did you think I was?”

Max gave me a reassuring squeeze. “I bet you scared each other.” He pulled out a stool next to him. “You got here just in time for some roast beef sandwiches, and I hope you like it cold. Seems we slept too long for a hot meal.”

“This roast is a piece of art,” Katya muttered over her shoulder. “I’m not reheating it and letting it dry out.”

Dani grabbed a slice of rare beef from the platter in front of her, bit off a chunk, and threw the rest back down.

“Katya, I missed you so much,” she whined, licking her fingers. Then she got up, wrapped her arms around Katya from behind, and closed her eyes. Katya ignored Dani, keeping her movements purposeful, going from the counter to the island, scooping potato salad into a bowl and depositing buns and condiments before us, all the while wearing a teenage girl like a cape.

“Honey, let the poor woman do her job,” Max said. “This one ran away from her aunt in Paris and flew back early, by herself, scaring Louisa half to death.”

Dani kept it up, clutching Katya, whimpering, “I’ll die if you leave me, Katya. You’re the only one here who loves me.”

Perhaps this is typical of the age, I thought. Isn’t this what makes teenagers so impossible, this careening from babyish to sullen to mature and back again? I did not have the luxury of behaving this way, but there were young people at the club, attention seekers, Laureen said, who got that way because we stopped spanking kids.

“I think Dani came home early because she was anxious to get back to Asherley. And to meet you,” Max said, moving a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, that’s not why.”

Max began to assemble a sandwich for me. “You take mustard, right?”

“I’m happy to make it myself, Max,” I said, gently prying the bun from his hand, but he resisted, intent on serving me.