Chapter 3
Athena
“Just a spoonful of sugar . . . well, you know the rest.”
—Eloisa Hobby
Final round. Eighteenth green. All eyes focused on the Dempsey sisters, each three under par, squaring off in the biggest sibling rivalry since Venus and Serena Williams. One putt could decide the Chevron Championship and a place in LPGA history.
If Calista sank the shot, she would win. Game over.
A solemn hush fell over the crowd. Which sister would snag the coveted Chevron Championship? Who would emerge as the victor?
This moment felt like that nerve-racking incident. A mental replay of the event that sealed Athena’s reputation as the undisputed queen of women’s golf and caused the irrevocable final split between her and her sister.
Not just the tournament caused hurt feelings but rather a lifetime of their father pitting them against each other. Athena, the golden child, and Calista, the scapegoat, the roles he’d assigned decades ago, trapping them in an endless sand bunker neither could chip shot their way out of.
Thirty-one years of guilt settled in Athena’s stomach, thick as silt in a water trap.
She smoothed her white pencil skirt down to the hem at her tanned knees.
To the world, she was the picture of poise and confidence—a successful woman at the top of her game—but beneath the polished veneer, she was a bundle of insecurity.
Over the years, she searched for Calista online, heartened to see her sister had found a new path as an event planner specializing in unique children’s parties.
That was Calista—creative, unique, expressive.
The novel path looked as if it suited her sister more than golf ever had, even though Calista possessed a natural talent for the sport.
More than Athena, if she were honest, but Athena was competitive. Once she set her mind on something, she achieved her goal, no matter what.
Her motto? Win or die trying.
Even if it meant throwing her younger sister hard underneath an oncoming Greyhound.
She leaned forward, peering through the limo’s tinted window at the busy harbor. Somewhere among the tourist throng and locals was the one person she had both longed for and feared seeing for the past five years.
Now, as she prepared to face her sister again, uncertainty gnawed at her.
So many complex emotions. What if Calista couldn’t forgive her?
What if the damage was too deep to repair?
She hoped something as monumental as Demetra’s death would change things, and they could build a bridge back to each other, no matter how shaky the beginning.
Athena crossed her fingers against her thigh. Please.
After the mess at Chevron, Athena tried to reach out to her sister in the months that followed, but Calista shut her out, blocking her calls, texts, and emails, leaving all social media. Total ghostville.
Athena didn’t blame her. She deserved it.
After several failed attempts, Athena stopped trying, telling herself her sister needed space to heal. Still, the truth was, she’d been terrified of facing the role she’d played in Calista’s downfall, petrified of acknowledging what their father had done to her sister.
Now, with their ostracized mother gone, Athena felt a renewed sense of purpose. She would be the one to bring their family back together, heal the wounds of the past, and build a brighter future. She would be the perfect daughter and sister, the one who had everything under control.
She spotted Calista near the ferry landing, and her heart jumped.
God, her sister was even more beautiful at twenty-nine than she’d been at twenty-four, her long dark hair whipping in the breeze. The last time she’d seen her, Calista had kept her hair cut shorter than Athena’s stylish bob, but the loose flowing curls suited her far better.
When they were kids, Dad forced Calista to wear her hair in a pixie that she hated while he encouraged Athena to grow her hair to her butt. Benjamin said the short style was easier since Calista’s hair was so thick and curly, but it was the absolute wrong cut for her sister’s sweet, rounded face.
Athena winced at the cruel memory and bit down on her tongue. Dad had just been pushing her to do her best, and Calista’s hair got in the way. She could just hear her father in her head. Your sister looks like Cousin It with all that hair.
Tears burned her eyes, and Athena slumped back against the seat. This reunion was already much more complicated than she ever thought, and she’d imagined a damned bumpy road, chock-full of potholes.
She took another look. Her sister wasn’t alone. A handsome man stood beside Calista, and even from this fifty-yard distance, Athena saw tension running through her younger sister’s stiff posture.
Who was he?
Athena put her hand on the chrome door handle and hesitated. Part of her wanted to rush out and intervene, but another part held her in check, afraid of peeling back the years and slicing open the wounds.
“We’ve arrived,” said Cantu, her father’s longtime chauffeur, stating the obvious.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’ll retrieve your luggage, Miss Athena.” Cantu popped the trunk, but before he could get out, his cell phone rang. He glanced down at the screen.
In the rearview mirror, Athena saw him wince.
“Excuse me a moment, Miss Athena, but I need to take this,” Cantu said, remorse in his voice. Her father would have scolded him for even looking at his phone while on the job.
“Of course, please, take your call.” Athena gave him a kind smile.
“Thank you, miss.” He bobbed his head and answered.
She tried not to eavesdrop as she gathered her things, but she couldn’t help noticing the strain in his voice, his staccato answers to the person on the other end.
“Yes . . . No . . . I don’t know.” Cantu ended the call and stuffed the phone in his pocket, his shoulders stiffened.
“I don’t mean to pry,” Athena said, leaning forward, “but you’re upset. I’ve known you a long time, Cantu. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He gave an abrupt nod. “No, but thank you.”
“Family?”
A deep sigh escaped him, shaking his entire body. “Your father would skin my hide if I unburdened to you.”
“My father isn’t here,” she said, injecting a soothing tone into her voice. “Cone of silence.”
She hadn’t always been so cautious. When she was younger, she’d been a tattletale, running to Benjamin to spill her guts whenever she had the goods on anyone—almost always Calista. Damn, but she’d been a terrible sister. A fresh round of remorse dug into her.
“It’s my son,” Cantu said.
“Mateo?” Cantu’s young adult son had once been Athena’s caddie before he injured his back in a waterskiing accident.
Cantu bobbed his head. “He’s in trouble again.”
“Oh dear.”
“He got arrested last night for shoplifting. His mother and I had such hopes that he would kick his opioid habit, but he just can’t seem to do it on his own.
We just don’t have the money to send him to one of those expensive facilities—” He broke off and straightened his spine as if suddenly realizing he’d said too much to the boss’s daughter.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to you. ”
“No,” she said. “I’m glad you told me. I can help.”
He turned and looked her in the face, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Really?”
“I have a friend who runs a rehab facility. Here . . .” She opened her purse, dug through her business cards, and took out the one for the recovery center where her friend worked.
“Call him and tell him I’ll cover everything.
You should be able to get Mateo into inpatient treatment after his release from jail. ”
“No, no, I can’t let you do that. If your father found out—”
“What Dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Please, Cantu, let me help.”
With trembling fingers, Cantu took the card. “I can’t thank you enough, Miss Athena.”
“Helping Mateo get better is all the thanks I need. He was an exceptional caddie.”
Cantu nodded, tears brimming in his eyes as he pocketed the card. “You are an angel.”
Calista would have a contradictory opinion. “You’re so welcome,” she said.
“How kind you are to worry about me when you have just lost your mother.” Cantu swiped at his eyes with the back of a hand.
“I’m not grief-stricken. I hadn’t seen my mother in twenty years. That was when I did all my grieving.”
“It was wrong of your father to eradicate her from your lives.”
“He tells a different story.”
“Doesn’t he always?” Cantu asked, and it was the first time she’d ever heard him say a negative word about her dad.
“I know Mateo can beat his addiction,” she said. “He has a loving family on his side.”
“Good luck on your voyage,” Cantu said, fingering the Saint Christopher medal at his throat. “I’ll be praying for you and Calista.”
“Thank you.”
Cantu got out and hurried to the trunk.
Exhaling, Athena stepped from the vehicle. A thousand-mile journey begins with a single step, right?
And she took that step toward her sister.
She ironed a perfect smile onto her face that belied the turmoil churning in her belly.
Cantu deposited her luggage at the curb, pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his jacket pocket—cash her father gave him to cover her travel expenses—and motioned for a dockworker to load her suitcases onto the ferry.
Chin up, shoulders straight. You got this.
She headed toward her sister, preparing herself for the moment Calista looked up and met her gaze. Would she smile in return? Would she come toward her? Would she back away?
Drawing nearer, Athena recognized the man with her sister, and dread closed in. Reid Thornton, the sports vlogger who’d been relentless in his coverage of Calista’s breakdown at the Chevron Championship.
What was that son of a bitch doing here? He must have learned about Demetra’s passing and come to ambush them. Athena groaned. She hadn’t even considered media vultures. She widened her smile to show her teeth and quickened her stride.
“Calista!” she called with a cheery wave, as if their five years of radio silence wasn’t a thing.