“I don’t care. If he wants to come back for anything after this, he has to call first to let us know. It’s either this or I call the police and have you talk to them.”
Of course, she was right to be in a rage. I was still more frightened than angry about it. Jordan looked at my face.
“Don’t you get like some of these women who find a reason to blame themselves. You did nothing to encourage this, Sasha. I had a bad feeling about his attitude toward you when he bought you that expensive necklace and talked about taking you places. As it turns out, he was unable, if I’m to believe him, to get three tickets to the concert he wanted to take us to. Remember that? Turns out that there were only two tickets, and guess who would be left home?”
She looked toward the stairway.
“It’s his way,” she said. “He often cut me out of things after Alena’s death. He was always taking Kiera here and there and coming up with reasons why I couldn’t or shouldn’t go along. He gave Kiera plenty of expensive presents, too.”
What was she saying?
“But surely, you don’t think . . .”
“I don’t put anything past him,” she said. “I’ll send Mrs. Duval up with your breakfast.”
“No. I’d rather get dressed and go down,” I said.
“Good. Neither of us will be sickly, pathetic, and weak now.”
She walked off with a determined gait, the anger, grit, and fortitude so evident that I thought I could see it floating down through her legs to strengthen each step she took. My mind was spinning because of the speed with which everything was happening. It was as if I was in a real California earthquake, only in this one, the trembling was coming out of my heart, where the fault line had always been.
I closed the door and hurried to shower and dress. Just before I went down to breakfast, I paused at my computer. Maybe I did have Mrs. Caro’s sixth sense. I turned it on and waited for my e-mail to show. There were a number of messages from the girls at school, three from Jessica alone, of course, but there it was, Kiera’s.
I highlighted it and went to it.
Like before, it was short and nasty.
I bet you’re happy now.
20
Recovery
One of the first things Jordan decided to do was literally take over Donald’s office. She was in there first thing in the morning to begin her education. She wanted to be as intelligent as she could be whenever it came to any aspect of their fortune. I went in to watch her after breakfast. She had papers piled on the desk and was sorting them out in separate piles on one of the tables. As she worked, she mumbled to herself. Finally, she realized I was there, too.
“Oh. Did you have breakfast?”
“Yes.”
She looked around. “I can tell you this, Sasha. I am not going to be one of those weak, pathetic women who look like terrified, injured kittens when the whole thing is over. And if one more of my so-called friends tells me how sorry she is for me, I’ll scream so loudly in the phone that it will break her eardrum. Feel sorry for Donald, I’ll tell her. He’s the pathetic creature, not me.”
She paused, seeing the look of shock on my face. I had never seen her this intense. I hoped her anger wasn’t making her so crazy that Donald would get the better of her.
“Sorry I’m shouting,” she said, and sat hard in the desk chair. “You know, I actually found some names and numbers of the girls he was seeing in different parts of the country. They were right here in his top drawer. How’s that for chutzpah? You know what that is?”
“Bold, nervy?”
She smiled and took a deep breath, finally calming herself a bit. “Seems like you’re in the middle of a hurricane, I know. I am sorry about that,” she said. “I really am.”
“I don’t see how you could be blamed for anything.” I hesitated and then decided to say it. “Besides, Kiera is already blaming me.”
“What do you mean?”
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“She sent me a one-sentence e-mail this morning.”
“Which was?”