“One is never safe from rumors such as these, not in our family,” Tish says. “This is why Dewar men can’t marry weak women.”
Another dig at Alice, no doubt. Alice wishes Tish knew what she’s endured in her life: her stepmom’s cruelty, the loss of her dad, Professor Keyes’s harassment and subsequent loss of her career. Alice is anything but weak. She’s resilient, a survivor.
“That and the curse,” Alice says. The words slip out of her mouth before she can censor herself. Maybe she has overdone it with the oxy tonight.
A beat of silence follows. Alice wonders if she has gone too far. No one mentions the curse around Tish, not even her. It is understood.
“The curse never bothered me.” Tish’s voice is calm, declarative.
Bobby and Nick lock eyes. They’re saying something to each other, something Alice can’t quite catch. Communication between them has always been too subtle for Alice to detect. A twin thing.
“You’re a braver woman than I am,” Alice says. A kindness of sorts. A truthful one: Alice isn’t one for superstitions, but the Dewar Curse had been a source of many sleepless nights back when she was pregnant with Allegra.
Her mother-in-law’s face breaks into what Alice thinks of as the Tish Dewar Smile: two-parts sour, one-part polite. “We’re just different.”
The understatement of the century. But Alice will let it slide because, in this respect, she feels for Tish. She may be vile and manipulative, but she is a mother—and all mothers fear losing their children.
A chiming sound cuts in. Then another, almost immediately after. The second one comes from Nick’s phone. Alice recognizes the distinct ping.
“Boys,” Tish says, pursing her lips. Her gaze lands on her sons, both of whom have taken out their phones. Tish does not tolerate electronic devices at the table.
“Company emergency,” Nick says. His tone is terse.
Nick and Bobby exchange an uneasy glance. Something passes between them—more twin communication Alice can’t quite decipher. Then Nick’s back at his phone.
“What is it?” Gina asks. She’s looking at Bobby, who is squinting at his phone.
“Dad?” Calan asks, after a stretch of silence. He, too, is thumbing away at his phone. A bold move: Tish is giving him a lethal look.
“We need to make a call,” Bobby announces, getting up from his seat.
Nick follows suit.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Gina asks.
“It’s OK, Jib. We have it under control,” Bobby says.
Gina is about to say something when Nick adds, “We’ll be right back.”
They leave before Alice has a chance to protest, to demand that they stay and fill the rest of them in on whatever is happening. It’s the downside of oxy: she’s a lot slower than usual. Alice listens as the door to Nick’s study opens and closes. Tish, Calan, Gina and Alice are left behind.
“Does anyone know what’s going on?” Gina looks around the table. Alice can see her contemplating her next step, no doubt wondering whether she should barge into Nick’s study. Alice is wondering the same thing. “Calan?”
Calan’s eyes are still glued to his phone, searching. “I can’t find anything online.”
“That was a text message,” Alice says. She knows the notification sounds on her husband’s phone.
“Whatever it is, it’s about Eva Stone,” Calan says.
No one disagrees.
Six
Gina
Friday, September 6th
An empty threat. That’s how Bobby is referring to Eva Stone’s message.
“She’s lying.” Bobby paces the carpeted floor in Nick’s wood-paneled study. Nick is standing behind his mahogany desk, unmoving.
Gina has only been here for a few minutes—she marched inside the study once it became clear that she was too wound up to wait at the dining table. Unsurprisingly, Tish followed her. Rather surprisingly, Alice did not.
“We should sleep on it,” Nick says, tapping his fingers on the desk. “Consider all options, be smart about this.”
“There are no options to consider.” Bobby gives his brother a defiant look.
“What’s the harm in thinking about it?” Nick’s tone is now curt, impatient. “We have to be rational here.”
A scoff from Bobby. If anyone is the logical brother, it’s him—not Nick.
“Can I see it again?” Gina asks.
Bobby hands her his phone. She unlocks it. It’s right there on the screen, glaring and intimidating. A text from a private number:
Robert,
You have until Wednesday at 10 a.m. to resign as CEO of Alma Boots. I will not ask again.
Eva
The message sends a chill down Gina’s spine. Wednesday is September 11th. Is Eva aware of this? If so, it’s egregiously disrespectful. If not, well, then maybe she should invest in a better calendar app.
“Look, I agree,” Nick continues. “This is unfair. It’s a vicious attack against you. And I hate that it’s happening. But it is happening. And we have to deal with it in a way that’s best for the company, not just you.”
Gina expects Bobby to protest, but he says nothing. His shoulders sag a bit. She wonders if he’s considering giving in. She doesn’t like the idea of Bobby stepping down as CEO, but Eva’s text has scared her.
“I spoke with Dad today,” Nick says. “He’s the one who suggested we explore all options. At least until the investigators have looked into her allegations. The board will expect a clean bill of health. Dad said it’s best to tackle these sorts of things with paperwork in hand.”
“Your father hasn’t been CEO in a very long time,” Tish says.
Gina can’t breathe. The study feels stuffy, crowded. Too many people, too many opinions. She looks around the space, trying to ground her thoughts. It’s the only room in the house with personality—a leather-and-gold ashtray, a set of hand-chiseled African masks, a finger painting by Allegra tacked to the wall. It smells of cigar smoke, but otherwise it’s a nice room. Cozy and warm. But right now, Gina can’t be in here. She decides to find Calan and go home.
But Calan isn’t in the marbled living room. The decoration here is decidedly less cozy: high ceilings, chrome, and shades of white. Eggshell. Ivory. Cream. Alice adores white. White and beige and gray and every other bland colorless color. If Gina had a paint bucket, she’d throw it against the wall. A splash of orange is just what this space needs. What the entire house needs. Come to think of it, it’s what Alice needs, too.
Gina makes her way into the kitchen—maybe Calan is in there having dessert—but it’s empty, too. She groans in frustration.
“Do you need something?”
Gina jumps, startled. “Sorry,” she says to Alice. “Didn’t see you there.”
Alice gives Gina a half-smile. She makes her way around the kitchen island. She opens a cabinet, takes out two glasses, and fills them with water. Her movements are fluid, graceful. Alice is exactly the sort of woman Gina knew Nick would marry: tall, lithe, impossible to please. A woman with impeccable taste and lightweight clothes that never seem to wrinkle. Beautiful in a way that is bloodless, flawless. Even her hair is perfect: like spun gold. If they were close, Gina would ask Alice to wear it down.