Bitterroot Lake by Alicia Beckman (best books for 20 year olds txt) 📗

you look like death warmed over doesn’t mean you can’t warm up your dinner.”

“Do I look that bad? And thanks. For the nuke job, I mean. Is it safe? Those are old dishes.”

“Oh, who cares? It’s one dinner. As long as it doesn’t set the house on fire, you’ll be fine. And to answer your question, yes. You look that bad.” Holly gathered her gray plaid wool robe around her and sat. “Not that I blame you.”

A gust rattled the mullioned windows and sent a scattering of pine cones across the metal roof.

“Nic shouldn’t have—” Holly said at the same as Sarah said “I’m glad Nic—”

They stopped. Sarah spoke first. “I’m glad she called you. That’s so like her. And I’m sorry I snapped when you got here.”

“You’re allowed,” Holly said. “You’ve been through hell and I have been a lousy sister.”

Sarah picked up her fork. “Goes both ways.” Another gust. She put a bite in her mouth, listening. “How’s work?”

“It’s okay.” Holly took another sip.

“I thought you liked your job.”

“Liked. Past tense. Let’s not talk about it tonight.”

Sarah worked a piece of pasta loose from a tooth with her tongue and eyed her sister over the rim of the wine glass. She was about to get smart-alecky and ask what Holly did want to talk about when a loud crack stopped her.

“Holy crap. What was that?”

“Tree splitting. Let’s hope it didn’t hit the house.” Sarah opened the door to the deck, holding tightly as another gust tugged at it. “I don’t see anything out here.” She shut the door firmly, then checked the front. “Nothing there either. Stove clock’s blinking. Power must have gone out.”

“For about the third time tonight. I tried resetting it, but it wouldn’t stay reset. Electronics never work right here.”

She’d forgotten. It had driven Jeremy nuts.

“So Janine found the cat when she got here?” Holly continued, working one silky ear with her fingers. “We should ask around.”

“Ask who? The nearest neighbor is George Hoyt and his house is half a mile away. Besides, I don’t figure George for an indoor cat. A mouser in the barn, maybe.”

“If she isn’t lost, someone may have taken her out to the country and dumped her. Crazy that people do that, but you know it happens. Anyway, she needs a name. What’s that Egyptian cat goddess? The name of the cat in the house behind us in town.”

“Bastet.”

“That’s right. You always were better at history than me,” Holly replied and Sarah glanced up sharply. An innocent comment or a barb, a swipe at her tendency to hold on to the past? She couldn’t tell. “It’ll be nice for you to have the company when we leave.”

“I’m not staying long,” Sarah said. “Oh. You mean Mom has other plans for me? What has she said to you?” Her fingers tightened on the stem of the glass.

“Nothing. Well, she asked what I thought about suggesting you come here for a while.”

“To help her clean. Decide whether to sell.”

“Oh, no. No, she thought you and Abby might spend the summer here. It always was your happy place. The whole family loved it, but you most of all.”

Had she misunderstood her mother’s intentions for the house? Certainly possible; she’d misunderstood a lot of things lately.

But if Peggy imagined Abby might spend the summer here, she hadn’t told Sarah.

She pushed away the plate, not quite empty. Holly pushed it back. She couldn’t eat another bite, or sit here any longer, or let other people tell her what to do. She just couldn’t.

No, she was not going to feel guilty just because her sister felt bad. She hadn’t hurt anyone; she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Her wine glass was empty. Fine. Eating and drinking this late at night wasn’t good for her anyway. Outside, the wind had given way to rain, pounding against the logs and windows. As a child, she’d loved the rain. Now, it scared her.

“You don’t have any idea why Lucas sent you the letter?” she asked. “You and Janine.”

“No.”

But there were too many secrets, too many silences between them for the words to be convincing. “Let’s go back to bed. Mom will be here at the crack of dawn, snapping her dust rag at us.”

“You go.”

What was bothering her sister? Had it been Holly she’d seen in the dream, her hair lit up by the moonlight, running with the wind as it whipped the trees?

The thought kept Sarah awake for hours.

Something tickled Sarah’s cheek.

Two green-gold eyes stared at her, inches away.

“You little sneak,” she said. While she’d been sleeping, the cat had wormed its way under the blanket and Sarah had instinctively wrapped her arm around it. Her. Abby’s cat used to do the same thing.

She freed her fingers from the blanket and stroked the soft black-coffee fur.

Coffee. That’s what she smelled. And something baking. Happy smells in her happy place. She tightened her grip on the cat and sat up. Outside, the lake glistened as if last night’s storm had blown all worry away and left the world shiny and smooth.

Why hadn’t her mother hired professional cleaners? Even just for the windows. She could afford it. She didn’t need Sarah here for free labor. Trying to keep her close and busy. Fine. She’d inventory the furniture and artwork and figure out where Mary Mac’s glassware had gone.

And what to do about the cat. Bastet. She buried her face in the soft fur. Thank God the dream that woke her had not returned when she came back to bed after her late-night snack.

No sign of her sister, not even a rumpled blanket. Had Holly gone for a run?

She put her feet on the floor. What was that? Glanced down. Shivered, despite the blanket wrapped around her, the warm cat in her arms.

The first time Jeremy left her a penny on the floor, she hadn’t known it was from him. The coin had been on the rug in the upstairs guestroom where she’d been sleeping, or not sleeping, the night he died.