The maid, Elsa, greeted me when I entered. She tried to take my laptop bag, which I refused to give her because what idiot didn’t know how to put their own stuff away by themselves?
The door chimed behind me, and I turned. In stepped Sandy. All of my muscles tightened, and I wanted to stomp back out, get into my car, and go over to Casey and Alyssa’s. Sandy with her sandy-blonde hair and her crystal blue eyes and a figure that only belonged on the cover of a magazine. Sandy, my evil stepsister. Evil personified. When she spoke, I pictured her breathing fire through her nostrils.
She dropped her bag on the floor and handed Elsa her jacket. Remember what I’d said about what idiot couldn’t put away their own belongings? That was my evil stepsister.
I’d been determined to be nice to her because we were finally family now, but after the tenth time of her being bitchy to me, I’d had enough. I wasn’t even trying anymore. I treated her like the bully she was. I simply ignored her.
“Charlie, how have your first few days at work been? Did you happen to not offend anybody in the first week?” She brushed her hand through her perfect locks, and I swore the curls bounced like they would in a shampoo commercial. “Do me a favor and try not to get fired, okay?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t,” I deadpanned. “Actually, I love this job. This is the first job I’ve had in a long time that I feel like I can retire here.” I clenched my teeth into a tight smile, lying like my life depended on it.
Did I love work? No. But I loved the people I worked with—my newfound friends. I’d upped and left my life in Wisconsin, friends and all, so it was refreshing that Alyssa and Casey had made me feel part of their girl group.
“Well, thank goodness I own a recruiting firm and that Daddy insisted I help you find a job.”
More like my stepdad had forced her into finding me this job.
She lifted her shoulder to her chin. “Like I said, let’s hope you won’t get fired. You’ve never once in your life since you’ve graduated from college held a job for more than a few months, so I guess only time will tell.”
I wanted to wipe her sassy smirk off her face.
“Girls.” My mother flowed effortlessly into the foyer. Her flowery skirt hugged her hips when she walked. She had her arms outstretched, and her smile was big, wide, and inviting.
This was Olivia Grayson, now Buckingham, in her normal form. There wasn’t a curl out of place from her long, flowy blonde hair, and her clothes had been pressed to perfection. That was where our similarities ended—in the color of our hair and our emerald green eyes. Where she was curvy and beautiful, I was not. Where she was tall, I was average. Where her clothes were always immaculate, half the time, I looked like I’d pulled my clothes from the wash and thrown them on.
My mother brought me into her chest, fiercely hugging me, just like she had when I was a little girl—her little girl—and I melted into her arms. I lived for her hugs. With my mother, she showed how much she cared outwardly, but what she thought and what she said were opposite to her actions.
When she turned toward Sandy’s direction, her whole face lit up, and mine sank. She brought her in and hugged her as well—a gesture usually meant for only me—but now, I had to share her.
“Sandy, I like the haircut.” She pulled at the end of Sandy’s blonde locks and walked around her to see the back of her newly cut hair.
I wanted to tell my mom I had gotten a haircut last week, but she hadn’t said a word about it. But I wasn’t gonna bring it up. Because I wasn’t about to be “overly sensitive”—as my mother often labeled me. I missed it when it was just us—and Dad.
“In this suit, you look like a model.” My mother ran her hand down Sandy’s sleeve as she admired the tailored fit.
My jaw clenched, and my gaze flickered to my own suit.
“Oh, Olivia, I need to hook you up with my tailor. She makes the best suits. Anyway”—she waved a hand—“how’s Granny? Is she okay today? Do you think she’ll join us for dinner, or do you think she’s worn out?” She peered behind her toward the double staircase that led to our rooms.
Her grandmother was elderly in her nineties. They’d transferred her from the nursing home to the house for home care.
There were very few times Sandy seemed human, and it was with her interactions with her grandmother that I was able to experience this.
My mother patted her shoulder, consoling her. Only I didn’t know why because it wasn’t like her granny was gonna die anytime soon. She was old but not bedridden.
“Why don’t you check on her, honey, and ask her how she’s feeling? We can have Elsa bring her down if she needs to be helped.”
With an upward tip of her chin, Sandy headed down the hall and up the stairs, and once she was out of my vicinity, I exhaled deeply and relaxed my shoulders.
“So, how was your day at work, honey?” My mother’s eyes gave me a once-over, taking in my suit. She didn’t comment on it.
Did she like it?
I gritted my teeth because this was my issue not hers, wasn’t it?
I was only perfect in my father’s eyes. A pang shot straight to my chest, long and hard and endless, when I just thought of him.
Good God, I missed him. I missed the way he’d called me the perfect princess. I missed the way he’d made me believe I could do no wrong.
In my mother’s eyes, I was anything but perfect. I had inherited my father’s bone structure, his lanky frame, his green eyes, but I had my mother’s hair and her full lips. A combination not stellar enough to even be noticed.
“It was fine, Mother …”
Fine. Fine. Fine. A word I used often with my mother, even when things were not so fine.
We were all seated at the kitchen table. Granny—or I should say, Sandy’s Granny—wasn’t feeling too well, pushing around her food on her plate.
Sandy sipped her wine and leaned back against the chair. “It’s just getting so busy. I had to hire two more people to keep up with demand.”
I focused on my food, trying for the life of me to block her out. If I had to hear about Sandy’s job one more time, I would bang my head against the table until I knocked out and they had to call 911. This was the thing: it wasn’t jealousy that caused me to want to gouge my eyes out every time she talked about her recruiting firm that she owned; it was the fact that she would brag nonstop about it, as though using it to tell me, Look at what I can do.
“Soon, you won’t have anymore room in that office you rented out.” Richard Buckingham III sat right by my mother, feeding himself with one hand and holding her hand over the table with the other.
They were always touching affectionately, like the newlyweds they were. Each time I witnessed it, I’d think of my dad. It wasn’t like she was cheating—my father was dead—but I couldn’t help but picture how they had been together, how much love they’d shared, just with one look. As though they hadn’t had to even touch to witness their overflowing passion for each other. Just how they stared lovingly at each other proved it.
Sandy’s gaze made it my way. “The economy is high therefore, everyone needs a job nowadays, and people want to be placed, which puts my recruitment agency on the top of every company’s list when they’re trying to fill positions.”