“I’m…disappointed.”
“Why? I thought you and Catherine weren’t that close or anything.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
Amandine blew out a breath. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. In some ways I’m grateful for having her as my cousin. But she has a way of making me feel incredibly inadequate.”
“Sounds dysfunctional.”
“It wasn’t easy growing up in her shadow.”
“Did she do things to make you feel bad? Dirty looks, catty comments, anything like that?”
“No, nothing. It’s just…she’s always been so perfect and beautiful.”
Brooke snorted. “Perfect? Have you ever seen her open a book?”
“Well, she’s never been academically inclined. But she has great taste, and—”
“Amandine, stop.” Brooke was shaking her head. “A perfect woman doesn’t marry for money. No matter what she looks like, or how great her taste in table china is.”
Amandine sighed. Brooke didn’t understand how practical Catherine was. “She’s still my cousin, and I should’ve been there for her.”
“Then make sure to get her some money.”
Amandine folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, that’s just cold.”
“No, what I mean is: if the money problem vanishes, maybe next time she’ll marry for love.”
Amandine frowned. Maybe Brooke had a point. Her head hurt too much to think straight.
“You did what you could by visiting her,” Brooke said as the plane hit the runway with a gentle bump. “Well, tried to, anyway. I don’t understand what you think you can do for her. She’s a big girl. She’ll be fine.”
“You’re probably right.” But she couldn’t shake off the apprehension. Catherine was the most talkative, social person Amandine knew. For her to refuse phone calls was like…Lou refusing a handful of bananas. Hard to imagine under any normal circumstances.
Amandine put her hand on a temple, massaging it. Her skull felt like it’d split in half.
As they rose to deplane, Brooke frowned. “You okay? You look pale.”
“I’m fine. Just a little hungry.”
“If you want, we can stop by a supermarket and get you something to munch on.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
Amandine started down the steps to the tarmac. The sunlight seemed to pierce her head like an ice pick, and her grip on the railing tightened as dark spots swam before her.
She leaned back, grasping for something—anything—to keep her steady. Everything seemed to be spinning. She distantly heard Brooke say, “Hey!”
Then darkness consumed her and she collapsed.
* * *
When Amandine opened her eyes, she was in a tasteful ivory room. Her bed had some kind of large remote control attached to a thick cord that vanished behind her head. A flat-screen TV and a stereo occupied the wall opposite her, and two more remotes rested on a table on her right. The room smelled faintly of bleach and something medicinal underneath the scent of pine and lemon.
“You’re awake, thank god.”