Sybil at Sixteen Read online

  “Maybe I’m wrong,” she said, almost shyly. “But I thought things went bad when I had the accident. The way you’re telling it, there were problems before then.”

  “Of course there were problems,” Nick said. “We had our share of problems before you were hurt.”

  “It never seemed that way to me,” Sybil said. “Oh, I know sometimes we had less money than others. I remember a couple of middle-of-the-night moves when I was a kid. But it all seemed like a game to me. Was that because I was so young?”

  “A little bit,” Nick replied. “And a little bit because no matter how bad things were then, it never seemed real. It certainly never seemed important. We could live in a dump for a year or so, and our first dinner there was almost always champagne and caviar, frequently courtesy of Clark, to give him his due, and we knew, at least Daisy and I did, that the dump was temporary, and the next place would be a castle. So what difference did it make that it was a dump. And of course while we were waiting for a change of fortunes, Daisy would turn the dump into something so special it might as well have been a castle. And she would laugh, and you girls would join her, and I couldn’t help laughing myself then, and soon things would be better again and deals would get made and I’d be paying for the champagne and caviar. I think sometimes I preferred life that way, uncertain, with the ever possible risk of failure, to a life like Clark had, all wealthy and secure. In that way, Claire is like me. She loves risk. You can see it excites her.”

  “Maybe now you can start taking risks again,” Sybil said. “Now that you have Aunt Grace’s house to live in. And Evvie’ll be married soon, and Claire’s already earning good money. You’ll just have Thea and me to worry about.”

  “I’ll worry about all of you until the day I die,” Nick declared. “But you’re right. If I could only get a stake, I might make something of myself yet. The problem is raising the money. This is Boston. In some ways it’s a big city, and in others it’s a very small town. Daisy has position, or at least she had in her days as a Winslow. Grace, Clark, they represent the old money, the right clubs, the places that never accepted me. My only ins are there, and they don’t do me any good. I’ll always be the upstart that stole Grace Winslow’s niece away from her, away from Clark. And I don’t have the money or the connections to get in with the new crowd. So I’m stuck with a mansion that costs a fortune in taxes, and if I can’t think of something soon, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  “You must have some ideas,” Sybil said. Even at the worst times, Nick always had something cooking.

  “We can’t sell the house,” Nick said. “Grace saw to that. But we could probably rent it for a good amount. More than enough to cover taxes at least. Then we could scrape up some money somehow, and go to a more open community. I had good luck in Pennsylvania. Maybe we could try there.”

  “When?” Sybil asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. Nick was very sensitive to her moods, and this was one time she didn’t want him to know what she was feeling.

  “During the summer, I think,” Nick said. “I haven’t spoken to Daisy about it yet, because I know how happy she is to be in Boston. It’s funny. She hated the house when she was growing up here. The summer house in Eastgate she loved, which is probably why Grace didn’t leave that to her instead. But she was miserable in Boston. So you’d think it would be easy for me to convince her to move. But it won’t be. She finally has some security, and God knows she’s entitled to it after all we’ve been through. She thought we were getting that back in Briarton when we bought the house. But that didn’t work out, and we’ve been on the move ever since.”

  Briarton was where Sybil had had her accident. They’d been on the move ever since because of her. Nick wasn’t even being kind not mentioning that. They both knew it so well there was no point.

  “I’d like for us to stay in Boston, too,” Sybil said. “At least for another year. Until I finish high school.”

  “You’ve certainly been to more than your share of schools,” Nick said. “Do you like the one you’re going to that much?”

  Sybil didn’t like the school she was going to at all. It was old and filled with stairs and kids that pushed against her because they were late and she was slow. She didn’t have any friends there. She hadn’t made any real friends since Briarton. There’d been too many hospitals and rehab centers and schools since then to make friends. “I like Boston,” she said, choosing not to lie. “I like Aunt Grace’s house. I like feeling like I belong someplace.”

  “That’s how Daisy feels,” Nick said. “But there’s no point in living someplace where I can’t make money.”

  “Couldn’t you get a job?” Sybil asked.

  “Not the kind that would pay me enough money,” Nick said. “I need to make a quick killing, get us out of debt for a while. We left friends back in Briarton. Harrison, too. That whole section of Pennsylvania was very hospitable. You could finish high school there, and then if you want, you could go to college in Boston. Evvie would be happy to keep an eye on you.”

  Sybil looked at Nick. He wasn’t pleading yet, so the idea was still fairly new to him. That meant there was time to talk him out of it, to come up with some scheme that would keep them in Boston. It was too soon to panic.

  “We’d better get the milk,” she said. “My legs are starting to hurt.”

  “Fair enough,” Nick said. “Milk and eggs and a short walk home it is.”

  Sybil nodded. It was home, too. Nick might hate it, but she wasn’t about to give it up without a fight.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Ah, the hallowed grounds,” Claire said as she and Sybil walked to Evvie’s apartment. “See that little grocery on the corner? I used to meet Scotty there for our secret assignations.”

  “How many did you have?” Sybil asked. She had gone to Evvie’s apartment several times since the move to Boston, but this was her first guided tour with Claire.

  “One, I think,” Claire said. “Maybe two. It’s all so long ago, and it was so really unimportant. That streetlight over there, right by their house, that’s where I got him to kiss me.”

  “Was it hard?” Sybil asked.

  “For him or me?” Claire replied. “Actually, Scotty was a very good kisser. The moment would have been romantic, if I’d been in it for romance.”

  “Instead of money?” Sybil said.

  “Not money,” Claire said. “Not then. I wanted him to kiss me because Thea was there. I didn’t work out the money angle until later.”

  “How much later?” Sybil asked. The sky had turned overcast, and the conversation was keeping her mind from the ache in her legs.

  “I don’t know what you’re asking me,” Claire said. “But if you want to know if Scotty was in on it with me, then yes, he was. I never would have gotten him to marry me if he hadn’t understood my plan. He did it to make Thea jealous.”

  “Poor Thea,” Sybil said.

  “She deserved it,” Claire said, walking up to Evvie’s door and ringing the bell. “The way she was carrying on about Kip. She didn’t care how much she hurt Scotty. Thea can be incredibly insensitive when she wants to be.”

  Sybil sighed. There was no getting through to Claire about her own insensitivities. Sybil was just glad she could be friends with them both.

  And things had worked out reasonably well. Thea and Scotty remained close, although no romance had ever developed. Sybil had gotten the time in the rehab center she needed. Claire had a beautiful portfolio. And the Hugheses still had plenty of money. Sybil suspected there was a lot she could learn from Claire’s techniques.

  They walked up the flight of stairs to Evvie’s apartment, and Claire knocked on the door. Evvie opened it, and Sybil noted instantly that Evvie had been crying.

  “What’s the matter?” Claire asked. “Evvie, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered. “This is just a bad time.”

  Claire and Sybil walked into the apartment. Everything looked the
same as it had the last time Sybil had been there, and Sybil found that comforting somehow. She couldn’t remember ever having seen Evvie cry.

  “Is somebody sick?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Evvie said. “No. Not in the way you think. Look, it’s an awful mess. I’m sorry. I know we invited you for lunch, and I should have called to cancel, but this morning has been awful, and I wasn’t thinking straight.” Sybil noticed that Evvie was keeping her voice low. She looked around the apartment for signs of Sam, and saw the bedroom door was closed.

  “Is Sam okay?” Sybil asked. She’d grown to love Sam over the years. As far as she was concerned, he was a perfect big brother. “You’re still getting married, aren’t you?”

  Evvie managed a half laugh. “We’re fine,” she said. “He’s fine. Look, it’s very complicated.” She paused, and began to cry again.

  Claire gave Evvie a hug. “It’s okay,” she said. “Whatever it is, you’ll work it out.”

  Sybil heard some noises in the bedroom, and turned around to see Sam opening the door. He looked even worse than Evvie, tearstained and red with some emotion Sybil couldn’t define. “Get your damn sisters out of here!” he shouted. “They don’t belong. Get them the hell out, already!”

  “We’re going,” Claire said. “Evvie, give us a call.”

  “Thea,” Evvie said. “She can’t come here.”

  “I’ll call her at Scotty’s,” Claire said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thank you,” Evvie whispered. “I love you both.”

  “We love you, too,” Claire said. “Come on home if you need to. No one else is there right now.”

  “Maybe,” Evvie said, and half pushed them out of the apartment. Sybil followed Claire down the stairs. She felt like weeping, although she couldn’t be sure why.

  “Happy Easter,” Claire said as they left the building.

  “Do you think that was what was bothering Sam?” Sybil asked. “That it was Easter?”

  “I don’t think so,” Claire said.

  “Then what was it?” Sybil asked. “It had to be something terrible. Have you ever seen Evvie crying?”

  “Once,” Claire replied. “After your accident. Evvie cried for days after that.”

  “But not since then,” Sybil said. “And Sam was so angry. Did we do something wrong?”

  “Calm down,” Claire said. “It was probably just a fight. Couples have them. Nicky and Megs don’t have them like the rest of the world, but everybody else does. Evvie probably wanted to put hot sauce in the soup or something, and Sam didn’t like it hot and one thing led to another and they both got upset. Hot sauce will do that.”

  “You can’t believe that,” Sybil declared. “That was not a frivolous fight.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Claire replied. “It isn’t my crisis. Now, do you want to go back to Aunt Grace’s or should we find a place to eat here?”

  “Home,” Sybil said. “And don’t call it Aunt Grace’s.”

  “Pardon me,” Claire said. “How’re your legs holding up?”

  “They’re fine,” Sybil said. “There’s no need to baby me, Claire.”

  “I love the holidays,” Claire said. “Happy family gatherings. They make me wish I was an orphan.”

  “Sam’s an orphan,” Sybil said. “So are Nicky and Megs. They all seem to love it.”

  “There are orphans and there are orphans,” Claire said. “But if I were an orphan, I might not have you, and where would I be then?”

  “Can we take a cab back?” Sybil asked. Cabs were such an extravagance she was loath to request one, but her legs were starting to ache, and she didn’t think she could manage all the walking mass transit would involve.

  “We’ll find one,” Claire promised, and indeed soon they were being driven back to Beacon Hill. Claire didn’t seem to mind paying, and Sybil was grateful that one Sebastian at least had a good-paying job.

  Claire called Thea, and then made sandwiches for their lunch. Sybil gave herself some medication, and hoped the pain would vanish. She knew she was tired from the excitement of having her sisters home, and her legs always bothered her more when she was tired. That and the weather, and she might find herself spending the evening lying on the living room sofa with everybody hovering about. “I think I’ll take a hot bath,” she told Claire. “Soak in hot sauce for a while. That might help.”

  “Fair enough,” Claire said. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

  “I won’t,” Sybil said, but it was hard just climbing up the stairs. She was glad Nick and Meg weren’t there to see her. She could feel their eyes on her sometimes, feel Nick’s body strain with her effort.

  The bath helped both her legs and her spirits. What she couldn’t get over, she decided as she toweled herself, was the way Sam had spoken. She thought he loved her, Claire, and Thea. She thought Sam felt like a member of the family. She hadn’t realized he could think of her as Evvie’s damn sister. Not even a name. Just a title. Nick was right. Blood really was all that counted. Everything else was window dressing.

  She straightened up the bathroom, not wanting to leave any clues of a midday bath that would cause Nick or Meg alarm, and joined Claire downstairs. They were both reading when the doorbell rang. Claire got up and answered it, and when she returned, Evvie was with her. Evvie didn’t look much better than she had in her apartment.

  “I needed to explain,” Evvie said.

  “Sit down,” Claire said. “Can I get you something?”

  “No thanks,” Evvie said. “I couldn’t possibly eat. I’m much too upset.”

  “About what?” Sybil asked. “What was going on? Why was Sam so angry at us?”

  “He wasn’t angry at you,” Evvie said. “We weren’t fighting about you.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” Claire asked. “I could make us some tea if you want.”

  Sybil stared at Claire. Claire was kind to Sybil, but to no one else, as far as Sybil knew. Whatever was going on, Claire obviously knew how serious it was. More unshared secrets? Sybil, who’d always assumed she knew everything in the family, was increasingly disconcerted by how much she didn’t know.

  “No tea,” Evvie said. “I’m fine, really. Furious, but fine. Furious and worried sick. You probably guessed. It’s Sam’s mother.”

  “What mother?” Sybil asked.

  Evvie looked at Claire. “You never told her?” she asked.

  “No,” Claire said.

  “I thought you told her everything,” Evvie said. “You never told anybody?”

  “It wasn’t my secret,” Claire said. “It was Sam’s and yours. I told you that then.”

  “You did,” Evvie said. “Sometimes I forget I don’t really understand you.”

  “That’s okay,” Claire said. “You understand me well enough.”

  “Will the two of you stop it, already!” Sybil demanded. “What’s going on? What mother? Sam’s parents are dead. Why was he so angry?” She realized she was angry, too, at Sam, at Evvie, and at Claire for keeping things from her. She felt as if her life was on constant display. Everybody knew everything about her, but they all kept secrets. They couldn’t possibly be trying to protect her. She was far past the point where they could protect her.

  Evvie closed her eyes for a moment. “This is very hard for me,” she began. “I’m sorry, Sybil. I assumed you knew the basic story. I thought Claire must have told you years ago, after she found out. I even thought Claire might have discussed it with you today, after you left my place. Now I have to explain everything, and I don’t know where to begin or how much to tell you. Give me a moment, all right?”

  “Years ago?” Sybil asked. “You’ve known something for years and you haven’t told me? Does Thea know?”

  Claire shook her head. “Not from me, she doesn’t.”

  “I never told her, either,” Evvie said. “Possibly Scotty has. I’ve never told Nicky and Megs.”

  “How could Scotty
know something Nicky and Megs don’t know?” Sybil asked.

  “Maybe they do know,” Evvie said. “Clark might have told them. What a mess.”

  “Do you want me to explain to Sybil?” Claire asked. “While you calm down?”

  “No, it’s okay,” Evvie said. “Sybil, I’m sorry to ruin your Easter with this situation. I’m sorry if you’re upset to learn that there are things going on you don’t know about. I apologize for Sam, too.” She stopped, rubbed her face with her hand and took a deep breath. “When Sam was very young, his parents were involved with a crime. They were political radicals, and they blew up a bank and people died. His father died in the explosion, but his mother escaped, and she’s been underground ever since. Sam hasn’t seen her since then. He was about two, and he went to live with his grandparents, his mother’s parents, and he had no contact with his mother. None of them did. She might have been dead, and they wouldn’t have known. She was last seen running from the explosion. That was all anybody knew.”

  “But Sam always said his parents were dead,” Sybil said. “He was lying?”

  “He had to,” Evvie replied. “Or at least he felt he had to. He didn’t know the truth himself until he was eleven. Both sets of grandparents agreed to that, but when he was eleven, they finally told him what really had happened. He lived with his mother’s parents, the Greenes, and he was called Sam Greene—they changed his name legally to that—and everybody thought his parents had died in a car crash. No one made the connection between him and his mother because of the different last names. Her name was Linda Steinmetz. When Sam spent his summers at Eastgate, it was different, because there he stayed with his Steinmetz grandparents, and everybody knew the whole story, which is how come Clark knows, and maybe Scotty. Schyler certainly knows. He was the first one to tell me.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Claire said. “That little SOB.”

  “Aunt Grace knew, too,” Evvie said. “Somebody would have told me sooner or later. Sam would have, himself, once we fell in love. It’s just very hard for him, because his life with the Greenes was filled with lies. Nobody at school knew the truth. None of his friends. I was the first person he really cared about who knew the truth.”