Chapter Five
FIVE
Maggie checked her reflection in the mirrored windows at the front of Cora’s building.
The crease between her brows was no good, and she practiced consciously relaxing her facial muscles until the visible tension eased.
Better. She smiled, making sure it reached her eyes.
Nothing to worry about. Maintaining that thought, she rang the bell to Cora’s apartment and got buzzed in.
Cora was opening the door when Maggie reached the top of the third-floor stairs, and she wrapped her sister in a hug. “Mags! How are you?”
“Good, I’m good.” Maggie returned Cora’s hug before holding her sister at arm’s length for inspection.
Cora’s baby face made her look younger than twenty-three, and her pajama pants and slippers exaggerated the effect.
With her blonde hair escaping its messy bun in long wisps, she could almost pass for a teenager, although she wore the weary look of someone who’d put in too many long days in a row.
Maggie frowned. “You’re working too hard.
Are you eating? You can’t live on hospital cafeteria food, you know. ”
Cora rolled her eyes, which didn’t do much for reminding Maggie she wasn’t a teenager.
“You literally can live on hospital cafeteria food, but I swear I’ve been eating more than that.
Stop mothering me and come inside.” She led Maggie into her apartment.
“Sorry it’s a mess. I got in late last night and slept late today. ” Cora stifled a yawn behind her hand.
Maggie raised her eyebrows. Cora’s apartment was never a mess.
Cora organized her clothes by multiple metrics.
(Season, style, color.) She had a four-person dish set but washed each dish immediately after use.
She was a minimalist through and through, and there generally wasn’t enough in the apartment to actually get messy.
Maggie scanned the room: apparently messy meant Cora hadn’t made the bed to her usual high standards. “No hospital corners, huh?”
Cora followed Maggie’s gaze to the bed and smiled. “Couldn’t be bothered. I know, shocking.” She went to peer in the fridge as Maggie settled down on the couch. Her voice was muffled by the fridge. “What do you want to drink? I’ve got water, Coke, grape juice … and beer.”
“You have beer? You hate beer.”
Cora emerged from the fridge to answer. “I had some work people over and they brought beer.” She held up a green bottle. “This is pretty good. It doesn’t taste as much like feet as the others I’ve tried.”
“I’ll take one.” Maggie tried not to let the surprise show in her voice. “I thought you hated having people over.” Back when they lived together, Cora had always resisted when Maggie wanted to invite friends to the house, preferring to meet at a restaurant instead. Of course, that was years ago.
Cora shrugged. “Maybe I’m mellowing out.” She handed her a cold bottle of beer.
Maggie knew Cora better than she knew anyone: her habits, her likes and dislikes, the way she took her coffee and her bedtime routine.
Having Cora surprise her was … unsettling.
It rubbed against her like a pebble in her shoe.
She drank some of the beer to wash down that feeling as Cora joined her with a handful of takeout menus.
While they chose what to order, Maggie surreptitiously watched her sister.
At first glance, Cora had looked young, but now that she took time to observe more closely, Cora seemed older than when Maggie visited last month.
It was most likely the disconnect between the Cora in Maggie’s mind and the girl in front of her.
She didn’t really look like a teenager, even with her baby face.
In Maggie’s mind, Cora was frozen in time, but in reality, she was an independent young woman with an excellent career in medical research … no matter how often Maggie forgot.
While they waited for dinner to arrive, Maggie kept the conversation on Cora as much as she could, prying her for highlights from her research—most of which Maggie could barely understand—and stories about her colleagues.
But Cora turned on her as soon as there was a lull in her narrative.
“Enough about me. You met with Arnold Chauvel, right? How did that go?”
“It went well.” Maggie kept her voice as casual as she could. “He was interested in my writing and wanted to hire me for a special project.”
“Ooh.” Cora leaned in closer, resting her forearms on her knees. “A special project. Is he paying you well?”
Maggie could at least answer that truthfully. “Yes.”
“Not that you need it.” Cora took her beer from the coffee table and swigged from it. Her nonchalance made Maggie’s stomach twist. “What’s he like? We reached out to him for lab funding, but we reached out to a lot of people. Things are a little desperate.” She chuckled without humor.
“I know.” Maggie wished she didn’t know. “Did you get any bites?”
“Not yet, but we’re hopeful.” Cora returned the bottle to its coaster. “Vanessa thinks Chauvel’s the best bet. He’s one of the richest guys in Boston.”
Maggie didn’t miss the new name. “Who’s Vanessa?”
Cora shrugged one shoulder. “One of the other researchers. We’ve gotten to be pretty good friends lately. Work most of the same shifts.” She looked away, her voice too casual.
“Cora, are you blushing?”
“What?” Cora looked to Maggie, then away again, and the color deepened. “No. Stop it.”
Maggie’s grin widened. Sometimes it was fun to be the big sister. “You gonna ask her out?”
“Stop it.” Cora grabbed her beer again and took another swig. “What about you? What about that guy you’re living with? When do I get to meet him?” Her quick questions held a hint of desperation.
“You’re not changing the subject on me.” Maggie had never seen Cora blush over someone before.
She’d had one or two girlfriends, and a couple of boyfriends, but no one serious.
Cora’s passion had always been her education and her career.
Maggie had figured she might not want a relationship at all.
But here was Cora, blushing over some girl, and Maggie had to put another tick mark in the column of things she had gotten wrong about her sister.
Cora sighed the long-suffering sigh of the aggrieved younger sibling. “She’s nice, and I like her, and I asked her out for dinner tomorrow. And that’s all you get.”
“Oh, come on!” Maggie leaned in. “Can I meet her?”
Cora winced. “We haven’t even gone out yet. Let me see if there’s anything there, OK?”
Maggie held up her hands in a peace gesture. “OK, fair.”
“Back to you.” Cora leaned in. “Are you seeing anyone?”
The door buzzer blissfully saved Maggie from that conversation, and by the time they got settled to eat, Cora had forgotten her line of questioning or had chosen to let the subject drop.
Maggie got her talking about a show they’d both been following and was saved from further discussion of her love life.
What was she supposed to say? Her most exciting encounter in recent memory had been with an anonymous stranger she was supposed to be investigating for an exposé article, and they hadn’t even done anything together? She cringed.
No. She wasn’t going to talk to Cora about the Scarlet Pimpernel, and she also wasn’t going to share information about any forensic accountants or financial investigations. Her sister had enough on her mind.
Besides, some things were better not shared.
She got through the evening without any of her forbidden topics coming to the surface.
She hated thinking of her time with Cora as “getting through the evening,” and she hated lying to Cora even more, but she’d made peace with the decision.
Ever since their parents’ death, she’d done what she could to protect Cora from whatever she could.
And if that meant keeping the truth from her, then Maggie would do so, and she would live with her guilt.
Maggie loved getting into a good writing flow.
She was in her favorite spot on the couch, basking in the ample sunlight like a contented cat, deeply focused on the task at hand.
She had finished two articles, and because she was terrible at turning down work, she’d also picked up a book edit with a tight turnaround deadline.
That had consumed most of her work time over the last few days, but she was hoping to finish by Friday and not have to carry it over into the weekend.
She was distantly aware of Blake, but he didn’t bother her.
She and Blake had gotten used to each other’s routines over their two months together.
She’d never had a roommate so easy to get along with.
Maybe they were still in the honeymoon period, but she generally preferred him around versus absent; an unending surprise.
He wasn’t silent: he puttered around, humming to himself and sometimes quietly murmuring to the plants when he thought she wasn’t listening.
Usually, the plants in his bedroom got the most conversation, probably because of the sense of privacy.
With walls as thin as theirs, though, there wasn’t as much privacy as either of them liked to believe.
If Blake had heard her last weekend, he hadn’t said anything, and she wasn’t going to mention her own accidental eavesdropping to him. She had enough on her mind.
Maggie was deep in thought when a hand waved in front of her face and made her jump.
“Shit, Blake.” She blinked to refocus from the screen. “What was that all about?”
“I’ve been calling your name.” He took a step back, out of her space, looking down at where she sat on the couch. This was a surprisingly sexy angle, making him look imposing in a good way. “I’m headed to the garden today.”
The old T-shirt stretched across his chest looked well-worn and soft, and he’d paired it with some Carhartt heavy duty work pants, completing the image of Guy Headed to Work Outside.