It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(30)

“At least your sister has the guts to stand up to me! You look like you’re going to faint everytime I talk to you.” He’d told her the same thing whenever she came home. He’d criticized the quiet way she talked, the way she looked, everything about her, and she knew he was secretly comparing her to her beautiful, confident older sister. Over the years, her hatred for Phoebe had settled into a hard shell around her heart.

The distant, hollow sound of the grandfather clock chiming nine made the big house seem even emptier so that she felt smaller and more alone. She went to the side of the bed where she knelt to pull out the object she kept hidden there. Settling back on her calves, she pressed a bedraggled stuffed brown monkey with one missing eye to her chest.

She rested her cheek on a bald patch in the fur between the monkey’s ears and whispered, “I’m scared, Mr. Brown. What’s going to happen to us?”

“Molly?”

At the sound of her sister’s voice, Molly shoved Mr. Brown back under her bed, snatched up The Brothers Karamazov, pushed Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca beneath her pillow, and resettled in the rocker.

“Molly, are you in there?”

She turned the page.

The door opened, and Phoebe came in. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Molly carefully concealed her jealousy as she looked at her sister’s dusty pink jeans and matching crocheted sweater. The sweater had a deep V-neck with a scalloped edge that curved over Phoebe’s breasts. Molly wanted to clutch Dostoyevski to her own chest to hide its lack of shape. It wasn’t fair. Phoebe was old, and she didn’t need to be pretty any longer. She didn’t need all that blond hair and those slanty eyes. Why couldn’t Molly have been the pretty one instead of a thin, ugly stick with plain brown hair?

“I was reading.”

“I see.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for conversation, Phoebe.”

“This won’t take long. School starts soon and there are a few things we need to discuss.”

Phoebe’s poodle scampered through the door and bounded over to Molly, who drew back and glared at her sister. “Where did that dog come from?”

“Since it looks as if I’m going to have to settle here for a while, I had Viktor put her on a plane.”

Molly moved her feet away from the poodle as it began to attack her fuzzy yellow slippers. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let it in my room. I’m highly allergic.”

Phoebe sat on the edge of Molly’s bed and reached down to snap her fingers for Pooh, who came to her side. “Poodles don’t shed. They’re good dogs for people with allergies.”

“I don’t care to have animals in my bedroom.”

“Are you this unpleasant all the time, or is it just me?”

Molly’s lips set in a mulish line. “I’m tired, and I want to go to sleep.”

“It’s only nine o’clock.”

“I’ve been ill.”

Phoebe watched as Molly bent her head over her book, deliberately shutting her out. Once again she experienced the familiar combination of frustration and sympathy that took hold of her whenever she tried to talk to the child. She hadn’t even been back in Chicago for a week before Molly had been sent home from camp to recuperate from the flu. If anything, their relationship had grown worse in the past two days instead of improving.

She plucked at the stitching on the bedspread. “This house has to be closed soon so it can be put up for sale. Unfortunately, it seems as if I’m going to be stuck here for the next few months, so I’ve decided to move into a condo Bert owned that’s not too far from the Stars Complex. The lawyers say I can stay there until the first of the year.” She was also being provided with a living allowance to take care of her expenses, which was a good thing because her bank account had dipped alarmingly low.

“Since I’ll be back at Crayton, I don’t see how your living arrangements concern me.”

She ignored Molly’s sullenness. “I don’t envy you going back. I hated it when I was there.”

“I don’t have much choice, do I?”

Phoebe went completely still as an eerie tingling traveled up her spine. Molly’s face was stiff and inexpressive except for a small quiver at the corner of her mouth. She recognized that stubborn face, the refusal to ask for help or admit to any weakness. She had adopted some of those same strategies to survive the misery and loneliness of her own childhood. As she watched, she became even more convinced that the idea she’d been mulling over since yesterday was a good one.

“Crayton is small,” she said carefully. “I always thought I’d be happier at a bigger school with a more diverse mix of students. Maybe you would, too. Maybe you’d like to go someplace coed.”

Molly’s head shot up. “Go to school with boys?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“I can’t imagine what it would be like to have boys in the classroom. Wouldn’t they be rowdy?”

Phoebe laughed. “I never went to school with them either, so I have no idea. Probably.” Molly was exhibiting the first display of animation she had seen, and Phoebe continued cautiously. “There are some fine public schools in this area.”

“A public school?” she scoffed. “The quality of education is so inferior.”