Josie laughed. “Classic Helen.”
“Well, honey, you weren’t much better,” Alice said, as the memories rolled over her. She smiled at Josie. An easy smile. And Josie smiled back and hope blinked on in Alice’s chest like the Christmas lights in her hand. “I swear the two of you and that school lunch program. The way you manipulated everyone in charge. And Cameron…”
And just saying his name ended it. The moment dissolved and Josie was still smiling, but her eyes were cold.
Alice took a deep breath, prepared to bite the bullet.
“Colored lights this year?” Josie asked, cutting in before Alice could say anything. The girl had been raised at the foot of Delia, a butter-wouldn’t-melt master of nonconfrontation who Alice loved like a sister, and it was obvious Josie wasn’t going to be finessed into a conversation.
Alice was going to have run right at her.
“I thought we’d change it up,” Alice said and dropped the lights she’d pulled out of the box. “We need to talk, Josie.”
“Sure,” Josie said, looking up at Alice with a bright smile. “I suppose we need to plan some kind of baby shower for Helen. Here, or even in the city. I could host for change. That might be fun for you, right? I mean, not that I would be hosting, that’s not…you know…fun for you. But being a guest. Not having to always be the one cooking and everything.”
Josie was winding herself up good and Alice put her hands on her hips.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“We could do a high tea,” Josie said as if Alice hadn’t even spoken. “Oh! At The Plaza, wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Stop.”
“We could rent a suite—“
“Josie, for God’s sake, stop!” Alice cried and pulled the lights Josie was playing with out of her hands. Josie let the lights go but didn’t look up. “It’s not your fault. What happened—”
“You didn’t believe that then,” Josie said, and Alice winced. “I mean, you said that but… you didn’t believe it.”
“I was hurt, too,” Alice said, lifting her arms out to the sides. It wasn’t fair; she’d been supposed to be the adult in that situation. But it was the truth. And Josie deserved the truth.
Josie tried to smile, but it was a flat grimace of pain. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”
Josie shook her head and stood up straight, the little girl Alice always saw when she looked at Josie. The troubled eleven-year-old, the smart and passionate and clever teenager who kept her eye on everything. Like she was waiting for this new life she’d stepped into to be yanked away. That beautiful young woman, that girl, had grown into the woman who was walking the world with such confidence and smarts.
And the woman now—so in control. So polished and careful with a slick surface you couldn’t get hold of.
Everyone was always surprised that Josie had gone into the television the way she had. Reality TV, drifting away from writing and into producing. But Alice understood. That job combo gave the girl total control. And total control over a terrible reality television show was at least total control over something.
“I do have to keep apologizing,” Josie said. “Every time I step into this place I’m reminded of everything I need to apologize for.”
“No.” Alice rushed to the girl, arms outstretched, desperate to hug her, but Josie flinched away so powerfully that she nearly fell over a box and Alice stopped, horrified by how wide the chasm was between them.
I can’t believe I let it get this bad.
“I made Cameron leave,” Josie said.
“No. Cameron made a choice—”
“Because of what I did.”
“Because of what we did. Max and me.” And that was really the truth. Alice could tell herself all day long that Cameron made the choice—and that it was the right choice looking back. But she knew the truth. She and Max hadn’t given him a choice at all.
They’d made him leave.
Josie shook her head, not buying any of this.
“I want to make this right,” Alice whispered.
Josie laughed, a harsh bark. “You know how you can make it right?”
“Tell me,” Alice said.
“Don’t pretend anymore. Don’t pretend you’re not mad. That you don’t blame me. Everyone here pretends like I didn’t ruin everything that night. You be the person who doesn’t.”
“Honey,” Alice whispered, her voice dripping with all the sympathy she felt.
Josie shook her head. “Nope. That’s not what I need from you, Alice.”
“You want me to be the thing that punishes you while you’re here?” Oh god, Alice thought, her hands shaking at her sides. Her lips trembling. “I won’t be the sword you fall on, Josie. I love you too much—”
“You know, forget it. Forget it. Sorry, I can’t help you decorate the tree,” Josie said and turned right around.
Alice sighed so hard her knees actually gave out, and she put her hand against the back of the couch and then just sat down on the arm. Her eyes burned and her heart ached and she’d done this to the poor girl.