Chapter 15
“Jane, it’s so good to see you. Please, come in,” Caroline Stratton said, holding the enormous front door open for Stick and me.
Speechless, I shot a look at Stick. A “there will be hell to pay later” look that he totally understood.
He nudged me inside, following me. “I’ll explain later,” he whispered in my ear.
What Stick would need to be explaining, and what had me so shocked that I could barely walk into the grand foyer, was Caroline’s appearance.
The woman, whom I had just seen at Betsy’s wedding six or seven weeks earlier, had dropped at least thirty pounds since then.
And not in a good way.
The cancer was back. And if I had to guess (and that was all it would be, given my very limited knowledge of the disease), I’d say it was pretty advanced.
Caroline and Stick exchanged a look, and I knew it was about my reaction.
“Sorry for the intrusion, Caroline,” I said. Meaning it even more so now that I’d seen her. She was dressed in a comfy-looking designer tracksuit that hung on her, but not as much as it should have. She’d obviously bought some newer clothes recently.
Or had someone buy them for her. There was no way she could have gone out looking like this and it not be all over the news.
So she had decided not to tell the public.
And why did I think that had something to do with my father running for governor?
“Let’s go into the kitchen, shall we? I was just looking at the proofs the wedding photographer emailed. You look absolutely beautiful in them, Jane.”
I followed her through the foyer, taking surreptitious glances into the rooms that we passed.
A great room done in taupe and deep blue.
A study, walls lined with bookshelves and a huge, but feminine, desk in the middle of the room, lots of comfy chairs with soft-looking throws laid over their corners.
A formal dining room with heavy, dark furniture and floor-length windows that looked out onto the rolling grounds of the estate, bare and frozen.
And then the kitchen, which I entered behind Caroline. She went through the room and stood by the long granite counters, then waved me toward the sunny nook, where she had a laptop open, a cup of something by its side.
“We’ve disturbed you,” I said, wishing I was anywhere but here. Curious as I was to see the inside of the house I’d stared at so many times, I felt like an intruder.
Which was exactly what I was. Exactly what I’d always been to this woman—an intruder who broke up her family.
“Nonsense. Like I said, I was just looking at photos. Sit. What can I get you to drink? Are you a coffee drinker like Stick? Or would you prefer some herbal tea with me?”
“Um…neither. Just a water, if that’s okay,” I said, making my way to the table. Stick, I noticed, placed his phone and Yvette’s keys on a place on the counter that looked like it was made for just such a purpose. And that he’d done it many times.
Which would not have been the case if he was always in the garage.
“Sit down, Caro,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
She didn’t protest, and made her way over to sit at the table, across from me. He followed her over and took her cup after glancing in it. “How about a refill?”
“Yes, please,” she said. Her body seemed to deflate then, once she was seated and Stick was taking over hosting duties. Like she had expended all her energy just answering the door and leading us to the kitchen.
She probably had.
We sat in silence while Stick puttered in the kitchen. He put the kettle on to boil, grabbed a mug from a cabinet and set it under the Keurig, which sat on the counter. No guessing where anything was. No fumbling through drawers or cupboards.
The guy knew his way around this kitchen.
“Take a look,” Caroline said to me, turning her laptop around. The wedding photos were on the screen, and I scrolled through them. “Didn’t he do a lovely job? I think he really captured Betsy’s and Jason’s…excitement, don’t you?” she asked.
“They’re really nice,” I said honestly. Betsy looked beautiful, and Jason looked like a man in love.
I felt a pang somewhere in my throat, and I had to swallow before I spoke. “You look great,” I added, a bit less honestly.
The Caroline in the photos looked tired now that I knew. Stylish and totally put together, but a bit ragged if you were looking for it, which no one was at the time. All eyes were on Betsy and Jason, and to a lesser degree…me. Or at least how the Stratton family interacted with me.
“It was a great dress. The shoes were killing me by the end of the night, though,” she said, and I nodded my agreement.
“Mine too.”
She turned the laptop back to face her, then patted the seat next to her. “Come sit here so we can look at them together.”
I jumped at the opportunity to not have to face her. To not have to look at the loose skin and lined face.
She wore her hair pulled back into one of her famed chignons, but her hair was dull and listless and looked like it would be brittle to the touch. And much thinner than it had been at the wedding.
But not chemo thin. Not like it was falling out in handfuls. Not like it had years ago when she’d been doing major treatments.
She wasn’t undergoing treatment. At least not chemo.
Sitting side by side, we scrolled through the shots. Stick put a bottle of water down next to me.
“A glass too, Stick,” Caroline gently said, and he nodded and got a glass for me. He refilled her tea cup once the kettle whistled, placing a new bag in it. And he made himself a cup of coffee and then joined us at the table.
“I know some bridesmaid’s dresses can be hideous, but I think Betsy picked out a beautiful dress. Did you like it, Jane? You certainly looked exquisite in it.”
“I’d hardly say exquisite,” I said.
“Know when to take a compliment,” she said with a smidgen of teacher in her voice. The same tone she’d used on Stick about getting the glass.
I nodded. “Thank you. And yes, I did like the dresses.” I thought about how the peach skirt of the dress twirled when I danced, and how much I’d liked how I’d looked in it.
I looked over at Stick, who was taking a sip from his coffee mug. It was as if he was remembering dancing too. A small, soft smile played at the corner of his lips, and he quickly covered it up with another sip of coffee.
“I’m glad you liked the dress. I can’t tell you the number of weddings I stood in when I was younger where I absolutely hated the dress.” She waved a frail hand. “Too many to remember, that’s for sure.”
“This was the first wedding I’d been in,” I said, trying not to stare at the tininess of her wrist.
“I know it wasn’t easy for you to even be there, Jane. But it meant so much to Betsy to have you be a part of it.”
I knew the woman was sick, but… “Oh, come on,” I said. “Let’s not go that far.”
She looked taken aback, and I regretted that I’d said anything.
Then she burst into laughter. “God, you’re right. And what does it matter now, anyway? You’re a smart girl. You always were.” She looked at me and gave me what seemed like a nod of respect. “You’re right, it meant nothing to Betsy. But it did mean something to your father.”
I refrained this time from saying exactly what I thought it had meant to my father. But she knew that I knew.
“Well, it meant something to me. Something real. I know you’re not my child, but you are my children’s sister, my daughter’s only sister. It meant something to me to see you standing up at that altar beside Betsy. And Joey.”
She placed a finger on the screen of the laptop, tracing around Betsy, and then Joey, and then dragging her finger down the line to me. “Especially now,” she whispered.
“How long do you have?” I said quietly.
She shrugged. The movement seemed so odd on her, so…un-Caroline. “Not long.”
Stick stood up, his cup in hand. “I think I’ll go check the garage.”
“What’s wrong in the garage?” Caroline asked, but she didn’t look up at Stick—she was still looking at the photo of her kids. And me, their sister.
“Nothing, I think. But I just want to check on the cars.” He looked at me pointedly. My earlier crack about his competitors stealing Caroline’s cars must have gotten to him.
Good.