“You did mean to. You meant to hurt her, and me. Sorry’s not going to be enough this time.”

When Natalie collapsed into her arms, CiCi patted her back for a moment, but then turned and steered her toward the front door. “You need to go, and you need to figure out why you’d do what you’ve done, why you said what you said, feel what you feel. And you have to figure out how to make amends.”

“I’m sorry. Please.”

“I’m sure you’re sorry, but you destroyed a piece of your sister with a temper tantrum. You broke her heart, and mine.”

“Don’t hate me.” As CiCi opened the door, Natalie clung to her. “She hates me. Don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, and neither does she. I hate the words I heard coming out of your mouth. I hate what you did because you wanted to hurt us both. And I hate having to say to my own grandchild—and I love you, Natalie—but you can’t come back here until you face what you did, until you find a way to make those amends.”

“She does hate me. She—”

“You stop.” Snapping it out, CiCi pushed Natalie away. “You stop and look inside yourself instead of trying to put things inside someone you refuse to even try to understand. I love you, Natalie, but at this moment, I sure as hell don’t like you. Go home.”

It shattered another piece of her heart, but CiCi shut the door of her home in her granddaughter’s face.

And leaning back against the door, staring at the beauty, the grace, the joy so recklessly destroyed, she let her own tears come.

Accepting them, she went to her other grandchild.

Simone sat on the patio stones, knees hugged tight to her chest, her face pressed against her knees as she sobbed. CiCi lowered to the patio floor, enfolded her, rocking until they’d both cried themselves out.

“How could she do that? How could she hate me that much?”

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s jealous and angry and, God, disdainful. She’s her mother’s daughter there. But I know, I do, Tulip would never have wanted this. You don’t fit the mold, my darling girl, so they see that as an insult. We embarrass them, and that embarrassment makes them feel small, so they retreat into that disdain.”

With her arm around Simone, Simone’s head on her shoulder, CiCi looked out to the water, the deep blues and hints of green, the frisk of its slap against rock.

“I could take some of the blame, but what’s the point?” CiCi considered. “I did the best I could. Tulip was a happy kid, and then my mother … Well, she’s not to blame, either. We’re who we are, and who we choose to be.”

Gently, CiCi stroked Simone’s hair. “She’s devastated, baby. She’s so sorry.”

“Don’t, don’t, don’t take up for her.”

“Oh, I’m not. She struck out at me, too, and she had no right. It’s long past time for her to deal with her inner toddler, to stop blaming you, me, or whatever the hell for her own issues. If she accepts what she did, does whatever she can to make up for it, it could be a turning point for her.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know. I don’t blame you. Families fuck up. Hell, families are fucked-up half the time. But fucked-up or not, she’s always going to be your sister, always going to be my granddaughter. Forgiveness won’t come easy for either of us, and it shouldn’t. She’ll have to earn it.”

“I don’t know if I can fix it. It’s Tish, and I don’t know if I can fix it. I don’t know if I have it in me to try. And if I do, if I can, it wouldn’t be the same.”

“You’ll fix it.” CiCi turned to kiss the top of Simone’s head. “You have it in you. No, it won’t be the same. It will say something else, something more. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go in, pick up the pieces, assess the damage. We’ll take it up to your studio, and when you’re ready, you’ll start work on repairing it. In the meantime, we’re going to white sage the house and banish all that negative energy.”

“Okay, but can we just sit here a little longer?”

“Let’s do that.”

*

Harry came home from a round of golf feeling pumped. He’d knocked a couple strokes off his previous personal best to start what he had decided would be an excellent day.

He had an hour before he was due to pick up Natalie for lunch with friends, then he intended to surprise his bride-to-be with an early evening showing at a house he thought might suit them both.

A house, their house, equaled the next stage. Something they’d find and buy and outfit and finally live in together.

The lady wanted a fall wedding, he’d wait. She wanted a big, formal wedding, he got on board the train. But he wanted that next stage.

He let himself into his apartment, set his golf clubs by the door. Then he spotted Natalie curled on his living room sofa. His already bright mood went brighter still.

“Hey, sweets. I didn’t—” Then he saw the tears, the ravaged face as her arms reached for him. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

As he gathered her up, she broke into fresh sobs.

“Oh Jesus, is it your parents? Your grandmother?”

She shook her head fiercely. “Oh, Harry. I did something terrible.”

“That’s hard to believe. Shh, don’t cry.” He dug out a handkerchief—his mother had trained him to carry one at all times—dabbed at her face. “Did you rob a bank? Kick a puppy?”

“I went to see Simone.”

“Okay. I’m guessing that didn’t go well.”

“She hates me, Harry. CiCi hates me, too.”

“They don’t.”

“You don’t know. You don’t understand. Simone’s always been CiCi’s favorite. She dotes on her—peas in a pod, just like Mom says—and I get whatever’s left.”

“If that’s true, there must be a lot left because every time I’ve seen you with your grandmother I’ve seen how much she loves you, how proud she is of you. I don’t see any hate.”

“They do hate me. If they didn’t before, they do now after what happened.”

“What happened?”

“I didn’t mean to do it.” Gripping his shirt, she burrowed against him. “I was just so mad, and Simone was saying awful, awful things to me. And CiCi’s making them goddamn Bloody Marys, and I could just feel her laughing at me. I just lost my temper.”

“God, Natalie, you didn’t hit your sister, did you?”

“No! I just … I just lost my temper, and I pushed it over, and it broke. I didn’t mean to do it, and I was so sorry, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Pushed what?”

“The statue. The bust of the woman.” Sick all over again, Natalie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Simone’s statue from that damn show in Florence. CiCi bought it, was always showing it off. I just shoved it, and it fell, and it broke. And after, like a second after, it was like someone else had done it. I was so shocked and sorry, and I tried to tell them. They wouldn’t listen.”

“The woman coming out of the pool?” He’d seen it, admired it. “The one in CiCi’s great room?”

“Yes, yes, yes. I just lost my temper. They—they ganged up on me, and I lost my temper, and then they wouldn’t let me apologize.”

He pushed off the sofa to walk to the window. He could see the piece in his head, remembered that when he’d admired it how CiCi had told him about the show, about how she’d felt when she’d seen it.

“Natalie, you knew what that piece meant to your grandmother, and to your sister.”

“It was just there, and I didn’t mean it.”

He came back, sat again, took her hand. “Natalie, I know you, and I know you’re not telling me the whole story.”

“You’re taking her side.” She tried to pull her hand free, but he held tight.

“I’m listening to your side, but don’t shade the truth.”

“I didn’t come here to fight with you. I didn’t come here to fight with you over Simone. Again.”

“We didn’t fight over Simone. We fought because you hadn’t told me the truth. You’d told me your sister couldn’t make it home for the party. That she was too busy. You let me think you’d told her and she’d said she couldn’t come.”

“She was out west somewhere, so I assumed—”

“We’re lawyers,” he interrupted. “We both know how to use half-truths and semantics. Don’t use them on me. What happened today?”

Genuinely terrified, she gripped his shirt again. “Don’t turn on me, Harry. I couldn’t stand it if you turned on me.”

Now he cupped her face with his hands. “That’s never going to happen. But we’re going to be straight with each other. Honest with each other.”

“My parents … My mother’s upset because my father’s gone over to the island twice since the party.”

“Your mother’s upset because your father’s spent some time with your sister?”

“You don’t understand! You don’t understand. Simone’s just full of disdain where my mother’s concerned, and she’s ungrateful. After all they did for her, she dropped out of college, ran off to Europe.”

He’d heard all this before, and tried to be patient. “Which sounds like it was the right decision for her. And if there’s an issue, it’s between your mother and your sister. It’s not your issue, Natalie.”

“I love my mother.”