Pris tangled her hands in her lap. Various emotions flickered over her delicate features, and Dev was once again struck by her innate beauty. She still reminded Dev of a doll, graceful and willowy and trapped in her own snow globe. It was as if she looked out at the world through a pane of glass, sometimes wishing she could be out there, but content to dance within the constraints of her entrapment.
Some kind of energy shifted between them. Pris seemed poised for a breakthrough, and suddenly, Dev held her breath, almost wished her sister wouldn’t say anything.
Because it would shatter the image Dev had clung to for her entire life.
The practiced smile curved her sister’s lips. “Nothing. Really, everything’s good.” She glanced at her watch. “We better get going. We’ll be late for the real estate agent.”
No one pushed and Dev was relieved. So much had already happened in the past two days. She needed time to process.
They paid the bill, took their shopping bags, and headed to the house.
With each step they climbed, Dev thought about not only her mother’s secrets, but her sisters’ as well. And she wondered if any of them would finally be revealed.
chapter eighteen
Olivia
When I began my junior year, I was slammed with the pressure of achieving high grades, taking on more credits, and still keeping my part-time job in order to go to Italy next summer. Sonya and I managed to remain roommates for another year, and I was consistently battling between my responsibility and my burgeoning need to be with my friends. Work usually won. I tried to save my socializing for weekends, but as my daily hours seemed to shrink, something more alarming began to occur.
I began to think less and less of Rafe.
Of course I still loved him. The plan hadn’t changed at all. But as we’d miss each other’s phone calls due to the time zone differences, and he’d send me three letters to every one of mine, I realized I was under serious pressure. I could tell his tone was a bit sharper when he asked why I hadn’t written to him. I tried to explain, but even to my own ears, my explanations seemed like excuses.
My heart remained loyal and committed. But being away from him, stuck in this world with the goal to graduate, began to feel stressful. I noticed we’d fight more often, with differing opinions setting us off. We always made up, and then I’d stay up late writing to him, my fingers gripping the pen as I spilled out all my emotions on the paper and right into his heart.
He mentioned trying to come see me for the holidays, but I knew my parents would flip and shut my travel down for next summer. The goal was to keep them believing my trips weren’t focused on Rafe. The moment they believed I’d be giving up my life for a boy, they’d try to stop us. I didn’t have enough money to support myself right now, and neither did Rafe. Aunt Silvia was honest about what she’d do for us. I’d spoken to her at length to confess my feelings and was surprised when she seemed to understand and not try to talk me out of my plan to move. Instead, she informed me she wouldn’t tell my mother yet, because it was my responsibility as a grown adult. I was twenty-one, old enough to make my own decisions. Unfortunately, she also let me know she wouldn’t be able to help me financially because she knew my mom would never forgive her. Basically, I had Aunt Silvia’s emotional support, and full use of the cottage, but I was pretty much on my own.
One dreary winter afternoon, I attended a recruitment seminar for a company called International Business Machines—IBM. It was a cutting-edge computer business that was rapidly expanding, especially with the rise of floppy disks. To satisfy the minor in business, our professor encouraged us to attend to get an idea of what opportunities were out there for graduates. I was desperate for a change of pace outside the classroom and gladly went.
The guy who ran it was young—definitely midtwenties—and dressed in jeans, a button-down blue shirt, and a striped tie. I pegged him for a nerd at first, with his glasses and goatee, but then I spotted the sneakers as he walked up to the stage and addressed the small crowd.
“Hi. I’m Adam Clayton, I’ve worked for IBM since I graduated from this college, and I’m here to make sure I recruit the best. By the time I’m done, every single one of you will be applying to work and get in on the ground floor of something amazing.” His voice was deep and commanding, and suddenly I was listening intensely, fascinated by his powered confidence and broad smile.
The time flew by as he dazzled us with statistics, employment benefits, and the goal for the company. By the end, I think he’d won over the whole audience, and there was a line to talk to him when he finished his presentation.
I fiddled with my bag, ready to go, but something stopped me. Of course, I wouldn’t be working here. I was an art student going to Italy. But a gut instinct guided my feet toward the front, and I took my place at the end so I could get my time.
“Hi. I’m Adam. Nice to meet you—”
“Olivia Moretti.” Up close, his eyes were a beautiful shade of brown-gold and gleamed with a sharp intelligence that intrigued me. “I enjoyed your presentation.”
He rocked back on his sneakered heels and regarded me over the gold wire rims. “Good, because I have a quota to reach. If I don’t get enough applications . . .” He trailed off, doing an imitation of slicing his hand over his throat.
My eyes must have widened because he laughed and shook his head. “Just kidding. Tell me about yourself, Olivia Moretti. Majoring in business?”
“No, minor in business.”
“Concentration in marketing, management, or finance?”
“Marketing.”
“And why a minor not major?” He tilted his head as if he was seriously interested in my answer.
“I’m majoring in art history. I’m hoping to work for a curator, or private art gallery, or museum. Any place that will hire me. As for marketing, I find it more creative than management. I think I’d be a poor manager.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to ask why again. I sound like a parrot.”
I smiled. “I’m not good at telling people what to do. Plus, marketing has some artwork involved, so it’s more my speed.”
He nodded. “I like your answer. Knowing your own strengths is key. Just make sure when you interview, you act like if they don’t hire you, it will be a big mistake. Leave the weaknesses at the door.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“Welcome. Want an application?”
I laughed. “No. I just wanted to let you know I enjoyed the presentation. Definitely more interesting than sitting in class.”
His eyes glinted with pleasure. “Appreciate it. Hey, are you done for the day? I’ve got the rest of the afternoon free and I’d love to get a cup of coffee with you. Chat a bit.”