The Winters(58)

Max turned around.

“Oh? Why this change of heart?”

“I just think Dani might be relying on him too much. She needs more friends her own age.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Louisa abruptly changed the subject. “Have you two given any more thought to where you’ll hold the reception?”

Max gave her a weary look. “Yes, Louisa, as a matter of fact, we have. And I’m sorry, but the greenhouse is off-limits.”

“My dear, would you mind leaving us alone for a minute? I would like to talk to my brother.”

I tried to signal her with my eyes to give up the cause. “Louisa, I’m perfectly happy to have the reception in the great hall. Really.”

“I know you are,” she said. Max remained by the window, waiting for part two of their battle. “But that’s not what I want to talk to him about.”

The undercurrents were starting to feel like riptides. I stood, hoping Max would stop me. But he said nothing.

“I’ll be down at the boathouse, then.”

“I’ll bring you your breakfast there in a minute,” he said, with a comforting wink.

I grabbed a coat on my way out the back door. To be dismissed like that was humiliating. Rebekah would have laughed and said, Louisa, whatever you have to tell Max, I’m sure you can tell me. My greenhouse request wasn’t supposed to have unearthed Rebekah again, but it had, and now I felt like even she had chased me from the house. The horror on Max’s face the night he found me in there with Maggie came back to me. By this point I wasn’t even sure I wanted my reception in the greenhouse. Perhaps I only wanted to occupy a space sacred to her in order to chase out a memory that left me feeling lacking. I was discovering things about myself I didn’t like, things that were entirely new, that had frightening depths. I began to imagine that Louisa had shooed me from the room to continue to assuage Max’s guilt over what happened that night. There it was again, Dani’s story reinserting itself, weaving itself into my narrative. Perhaps Louisa also knew about the other woman, knew that he felt guilty about how she’d upset Rebekah so much she drove off in a rage. Maybe she was telling him right now that he had to forgive himself, that perhaps it was Rebekah’s indifference to him that left him no choice but to stray, and it wasn’t his fault the other woman confronted him at his home. That’s what sisters do, they defend you, they bolster you, they even lie to you if they have to.

When I opened the door to the boathouse, I was disappointed to find Gus there. He stood cranking the bigger boat down onto its slip, its tarp now removed. It was indeed an Odyssey, about thirty feet, old but in excellent shape.

“Oh, hey there,” he said, turning the wheel on the pulley. “The stencil arrived for Dani’s Luck. Thought I’d give Winter’s Girl a tune-up. I hope you don’t mind, I—”

“I do mind, Gus. I’m sorry, but I would like to work in here alone. Can you do this another time?”

I was taking it out on him, my inability to assert myself with Louisa and Max. I was becoming one of those people who boss the help around because they feel powerless in their own lives.

“Sure, ah . . . okay. I’ll just . . .”

“Also, Mr. Winter doesn’t know you drove Dani to New York yesterday. And I’ll leave it that way for now. But you need to clear those requests with him in the future. Or perhaps me, if he’s not here.”

“But that’s always been part of my job. It’s why Rebekah hired me.”

At the mention of her name I flared up again. “Well, Gus, things have changed around here!”

He was about to walk away, eyes downcast, when I heard the imperiousness, the scorn, in my voice. I was disgusted with myself.

“Wait. Gus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just . . . it’s been a very weird twenty-four hours.”

“That’s okay. I understand.”

I felt emboldened suddenly, to prod a little, to ask questions I didn’t dare ask Max or Louisa, let alone Dani.

“I get the sense you two got along well. You and Rebekah.”

“I guess we did.”

“She’s a hard subject to bring up around here. I have so many questions about her. I’ve been wondering, naturally, what she was like. As a person, I mean.”

He thought for a few seconds, casting about for words. “Well . . . she was great with the horses. She liked . . . nice things. She was busy all the time. Always doing stuff. Kind, too. To me, anyway. She was kind to me.” He thought some more. “I really don’t know what else to say except, well, I mean, she was very beautiful.” Yes, yes, I know about that, for God’s sake. I want different information, not just what I can see with my own eyes.

“Can you tell me what . . . kind of . . . mother she was to Dani?”

“Oh, they were close. Yeah. Two peas in a pod, that kind of thing.”

He was twisting his hands together. I could tell he wanted to leave, to end this inquiry, but his information was just hitting my veins and I wanted a bit more.

“Was Rebekah very hard on her? As a parent?”

He bristled, stepped away from me.

“I only ask because I am trying to figure out how . . . to be a friend to her, help her, you know?”

“She wanted the best for Dani, if that’s what you’re asking. Like all mothers do.”