Chapter 2

2

Rose Cutter has done something stupid. And the thought of what she’s done, and what she must do now, is always on her mind. She thinks about it late at night, when she should be sleeping. She thinks about it in the office, when she should be working. She thinks about it when she’s trying to numb herself by watching TV.

The prospect of sitting through Easter dinner with her mother and her aunt Barbara, pretending everything is fine, seems almost more than she can manage. Her mother will see that something is wrong. She notices everything. She’s remarked often enough that Rose looks tired lately, that she’s lost weight. Rose always brushes the concern away, tries to deflect the conversation to something else, but it’s getting harder and harder to do. She has actually started to visit her mother less often, but she can’t skip Easter dinner. She studies herself in the mirror. It’s true that her jeans, once snug, seem to hang on her. She decides to compensate by putting on a bulky red sweater over her shirt. It will have to do. She brushes her long brown hair, puts on some lipstick to brighten up her wan face, and attempts a smile. It looks forced, but it’s the best she can do.

When she arrives at her mom’s house, it begins right away, the motherly concern, the questions. But her mother can’t help her. And she can never know the truth. Rose got herself into this mess all by herself. And she will have to get herself out.

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•   •   •ellen cutter takes one look at her daughter and shakes her head. “Look at you,” she says, receiving her daughter’s coat. “You’re so pale. Barbara, doesn’t she look a bit pale to you? And honestly, Rose, you’re getting so thin.”

Barbara rolls her eyes at her and smiles at Rose. “I think you look great,” she says. “Don’t listen to your mother. She’s such a worrywart.”

Rose smiles at her aunt and says, “Thank you, Barbara. I don’t think I look that bad, do I?” She turns to look at herself in the hallway mirror and fluffs up her bangs a little.

Ellen smiles, too, but inwardly she’s dismayed. And her sister sends her a quick glance that confirms she’s noticed the changes in her niece, despite what she just said. Ellen’s not imagining things—Rose does look worn out. She’s lost her sparkle lately. She tries not to worry, but who else is she going to worry about? She’s a widow, and Rose is her only child. Barbara doesn’t have any kids, so there aren’t any nieces or nephews for her to fuss over. Ellen is really rather alone in the world, except for these two, and her friend Audrey. “Well, we’re going to have a lovely dinner,” Ellen says. “Come into the kitchen, I’m just about to baste the turkey.”

“What have you been up to?” Ellen hears Barbara ask Rose as they make their way into the other room.

“Not much,” Rose says. “Just work.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Barbara says. “What do you do for fun? Do you have a boyfriend these days?”

Ellen furtively watches her daughter’s face as she tends to the turkey, the smell of the roasting meat familiar and comforting. Rose used to be so popular, but she doesn’t talk about friends or boyfriends anymore. It’s all just work, work, work.

“No one at the moment,” Rose says.

“I guess running your own law practice is pretty demanding,” Barbara acknowledges with a smile.

“You’ve no idea,” Rose agrees.

“There’s such a thing as work-life balance,” Ellen suggests gently.

“Not if you’re a young attorney,” Rose says.

But Ellen wonders if there’s more to it than that.

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•   •   •audrey stancik has been knocked sideways by a nasty spring flu. She didn’t bother to get the flu shot this year and she heartily regrets it now. Inside her modest home, she sits in bed in her most comfortable, faded pajamas. Her hair is tucked back in a headband, but, even ill, her manicure is perfect. She’s propped up by pillows, the television on in the background, but she’s not really watching. There’s a wastebasket full of soiled tissues next to the bed and a box of fresh tissues on her nightstand, beside the framed photograph of her daughter, Holly. She feels utterly miserable—her nose is running like a tap and she’s achy all over. Audrey was supposed to be celebrating Easter dinner at her brother Fred’s place with the family, and she had been particularly looking forward to it this year. She would have enjoyed it much more than usual, knowing what she knows. She’s going to miss that delicious meal with all the fixings, and her favorite, Irena’s lemon pie. It’s really a shame; Audrey enjoys her food.

But other than having the flu, Audrey is quite happy these days. She’s expecting a windfall soon. A significant windfall. It’s too bad someone has to die for her to get it.

She’s going to be rich. It’s about time.