Chapter 7
Athena
“Family are the people who stand by you when the rest of the world turns its back.”
—Eloisa Hobby
Athena’s eyes snapped open, her mind a hazy mush. The ornate ceiling of her room at the Lavender Lark swam into focus, its painted seahorses galloping across her vision. She blinked, disoriented.
Why was she on the floor?
Her gaze landed on the putter lying beside her, and suddenly, like a wave crashing over her, the memories flooded back. She was no longer in the Lavender Lark. She was back in that room, back with him . . .
Benjamin stormed into their bedroom, yanking Calista from Athena’s desperate grip. Her father hauled Calista over his knee, his hand coming down with a sickening thud.
“This.” Smack. “Is.” Smack. “How.” Smack. “A.” Smack. “Good.” Smack. “Father.” Smack. “Shows.” Smack. “His.” Smack. “Love.”
Each strike a brutal punctuation, each cry from Calista cutting deeper into Athena’s paralyzed heart. Why hadn’t he ever hit her? Didn’t he love her too?
Bitter bile rose in her throat now. She pressed a hand to her mouth, forcing the nausea back. No wonder she’d buried the memory so deep.
Athena scrambled to her feet, urgency coursing through her. She had to find Calista. Had to tell her . . . What? That she remembered? That she was sorry? Words felt woefully inadequate, but she had to do something.
In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face. The mirror reflected wide, haunted eyes that bore no resemblance to the polished, professional golfer the world knew. Here, stripped of her cultivated image, she was just a scared little girl again, desperate to make things right.
She slipped into her shoes and rushed from her room, nearly colliding with Luna on the landing.
“Whoa there!” Luna’s laughter rang out, her paintbrush-adorned bun bobbing. “Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Calista?” Athena’s voice came out rough. “Has she arrived yet?”
“Hmm, no. Your sister hasn’t checked in, but maybe she went straight to Crafters’ Corner. Orientation starts at four, and it’s . . .” Luna glanced at her watch. “Three forty-five.”
“I’ll try there. Thank you. When Calista shows up, can you tell her I’m looking for her?”
“Will do.” Luna’s smile faltered as she studied Athena. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Not in the least. Athena forced a smile anyway. “I’m fine.”
“Do you need a scooter?” Luna asked, leading the way down the staircase. “Or do you prefer to walk?”
Athena glanced down at her high heels—utterly impractical. Luna followed her gaze.
“We sell flip-flops.” Luna pulled a cellophane-wrapped pair from behind the desk. “Would you like a pair?”
Athena considered the alternative footwear, but they wouldn’t go with her outfit. “Do you know when my luggage will arrive?”
“Artie should be here soon, but I’d hate for you to miss orientation. Tell you what . . .” Luna fished in her pocket for a key. “You can take the Lavender Lark’s golf cart parked out front.”
“You won’t need it?”
“Nah.” She waved her off with a grin. “Go ahead.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Athena took the key and walked out the front door into the late-afternoon sun. Its warmth pressed down on her skin, but it did nothing to thaw the chill that had settled deep within her bones.
She found the purple golf cart wrapped with Lavender Lark branding, hopped inside, and took off toward Crafters’ Corner.
She motored past the row of stately B&Bs built in various replica Victorian styles, their flower gardens a riot of blooms. The breeze carried the grape soda scent of jacaranda blossoms and sea salt.
On any other day, Athena might have found the scene idyllic, but now it felt like a facade hiding darker truths.
She rounded a bend, and Crafters’ Corner came into view. The place was so darn cute that Athena almost laughed. Calista would say it looked like Pinterest exploded and birthed a town square.
The thought made her long for her sister and the close relationship they once had before their father pitted them against each other.
A yeasty perfume wafted from Breaking Bread, the bakery that looked as if plucked straight from a Hallmark movie. Across the way, an outdoor bistro flaunted colorful umbrellas. Its chalkboard menu promised interesting seafood dishes.
Flowers spilled from planters, painting the cobblestones with splashes of color that shouted Summer! Overhead, string lights crisscrossed the village in a layout that suggested either artistic genius or a spider on caffeine.
In the quad, a temporary stage had been set up, with people already seated in neat rows of folding chairs facing the stage. This gathering must be orientation.
Athena parked the golf cart alongside scooters, bikes, and skateboards.
Music drifted from hidden speakers, the kind of soft, breezy tunes that belonged in an old seaside movie.
She canted her head, identifying the familiar croon—Frank Sinatra’s “Sand and Sea.” The charm of the town distracted her for a moment, but she couldn’t forget why she was there.
She had to find Calista. She swept her gaze around the quadrangle, searching.
No little sister.
She pulled her purse off her shoulder, went for her cell phone, and realized the island’s poor service. She sent Calista a text, anyway.
Hey! Orientation is about to start. I’ll save you a seat.
Immediately, her phone informed her that the message had gone unsent. Well, shoot.
Not knowing what else to do, she stood in the middle of the quad. Eloisa appeared beside the stage. The woman had changed into a rainbow-colored island-print muumuu with a tangerine bird-of-paradise plume tucked into a yellow pillbox hat.
Eloisa spied Athena and waved her over.
Athena pressed a palm to her chest. Me? she mouthed silently.
Eyes and smile beaming, Eloisa nodded and motioned her forward.
What was the woman up to? Athena didn’t want to go onstage, but perhaps the older woman had seen her sister.
Heads turned as Athena threaded her way up the aisle.
Despite her career in the public eye, she felt self-conscious, ducking her head and letting a sheaf of hair fall over her face as murmurs ran throughout the crowd.
She caught snatches of conversations as she passed by—not gossip, but definitely attention.
“That’s Demetra’s girl.”
“The oldest.”
“The champion golfer.”
“Isn’t she beautiful? Like a Greek goddess.”
At the stage, Eloisa motioned for Athena to bend down. Athena leaned over and she got another unfortunate blast from the past.
Her father, whenever he triangulated her against Calista, would pull her aside, lean down, and whisper in her ear, “You’re much, much better than she is. Never forget, you’re the princess. She’s just sooty Cinderella.”
The image flashing through her brain shot her head up. Not since Calista walked away had Athena felt her father’s papery, ice-cold fingers plucking at her shirtsleeve or his bourbon-soaked breath brushing hot against her ear.
“Dear?” Eloisa’s voice jolted Athena back into the present.
“Huh?” Athena flipped her sunglasses up on her head to get a better look at the woman.
“Where did you go?” Eloisa asked, her tone gentle.
Athena shook her head, clearing it. “Sorry, woolgathering. Have you seen Calista?”
“Why, no, my dear, not since I left her at the dock.” Concern creased Eloisa’s brow. “She should have arrived by now. I certainly hope she just took a brief detour to see the island, and nothing untoward has happened.”
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Athena said, trying to convince herself. She darted her gaze around, a rising sense of urgency gnawing at her.
“Introverts need time to ourselves.” Eloisa rubbed a palm along Athena’s upper arm. “Give her space.”
Hell, she’d given Calista five years. When did space become estrangement?
“Would you mind coming to the mic when I introduce you?” Eloisa waved at the gathered crowd. “Our community would like the opportunity to know Demetra’s daughters. Your mother was much beloved here on Hobby Island, and we’d like to acknowledge you and your sister.”
Athena glanced at the audience, who were studying her with curious gazes.
She did not want to do this, but Benjamin Dempsey, who was all about “the Brand,” had raised her.
“Success is 99 percent appearance,” he was fond of saying.
“It’s why you rise, and Calista sinks. She doesn’t get the importance of the public mask. ”
“It’s all right. I’ve asked at an inconvenient time.” Eloisa gave a gentle smile. “No worries.”
Eloisa had done so much for her mother. What would it hurt to give the woman a few minutes of her time?
“I’ll do it,” Athena said.
“Are you sure?” Eloisa’s voice softened, her eyes narrowing as if she could see the cracks forming beneath Athena’s polished surface.
Athena pasted her mask back in place and glued it down with a forced smile. Was she sure about anything anymore? “Yes.”
“That’s lovely. Thank you.” Eloisa’s eyes were as kind as Mrs. Santa Claus’s, then she turned and climbed the stage to the podium.
“Good afternoon, dear friends,” Eloisa said into the microphone, her voice spreading throughout the quadrangle.
“We’ve gathered not only for our usual orientation but to begin our summerlong journey in honoring our beloved Demetra Sarris.
Every single one of you received a gold ticket to the island for this purpose.
If you’re here, Demetra changed your life in some significant way. ”
Athena stood off to the side, one hand clasped around the handle of her purse, the other fisted against her thigh. Indeed, Demetra’s absence in their lives had changed her and Calista’s destinies in immeasurable ways.