Part I
Prologue
Thea
Richmond, Virginia, two years ago
My sister’s voice echoed up the stairs from the foyer.
“Thea, let’s go.”
“Coming,” I shouted back from my old bedroom in my parents’ house.
I’d turned it into a temporary art studio while I stayed for the summer, with a tarp on the floor and an oversized canvas on an easel by the window. Delia bitched I’d only been home for three days and could I not make a mess of myself for her graduation? But not painting for three days was like asking me not to eat or breathe.
Behind me, I had Netflix running through episodes of The Office, the World’s Best TV Show. I’d seen every one a hundred times. Mom said I was probably obsessed with it because it was like me: funny and honest and prone to cringe-worthy jokes at the worst times. Guilty on all counts.
I brushed a lock of blond hair out of my eyes and wiped my hands on my linen smock. Purple and orange smears joined streaks of yellow and midnight blue. I used my fingers as well as brushes to manipulate the paint. Dad liked to tease I began finger painting as a toddler and never grew out of it.
The tarp shuffled under my bare feet as I stepped back to study the canvas. An Egyptian pyramid cast a dark shadow across gold desert sand as the sun set in swathes of twilight color.
My gaze jumped to the photo I’d taken of the real deal on our family trip to Giza last summer. I didn’t know what it was about those damn pyramids—or all of Egyptian history for that matter—that fascinated me so much, but I couldn’t leave the subject alone. Tombs that huge were mind-boggling to me. The Egyptians packed the pyramid’s inner chambers with all the things the dead pharaoh would need for the next life.
As if they weren’t dead forever but just going away for a little while.
“Like on a trip,” I murmured.
“Althea, get down here right now,” Delia shouted. “We’re going to be late.”
“It’s not possible to be late if you insist we leave three hours early!” I shouted back.
I cocked my head at my work and a slow smile spread over my lips. I always let the painting decide when it was finished, and this one was done. Its colors and shapes evoked the majesty of the pyramid, the beauty of the desert, and the vastness of the sky above, exactly the way I wanted.
I took off my smock. Beneath it, I wore a silky pink dress that swirled around my knees. A quick inspection showed only a few spatters of paint at the hem.
Delia’s voice whipped up at me again. “I know my graduation doesn’t mean anything to you—”
“Thea, dear,” my mother called up, smoothly interjecting. “Please come down now.”
I gave my painting a final glance and grinned. “Not too shabby, Hughes,” I murmured.
“Thea, I swear to God…”
“I’m coming,” I said. I shut off the TV and bounded down the stairs. “By all means, let’s hurry, or else we won’t be able to sit around and wait for hours.”
My parents—Sandra and Linden—were smartly dressed, waiting with Delia, who was in her navy-blue graduation gown that she wore like a uniform. She smoothed an errant strand of her shoulder-length dark hair and gave me the stink-eye as I forced my feet into the low-heeled pumps she urged me to wear for the occasion.
“It’s my graduation and I say when we leave,” Delia said. “And what are you wearing?”
“Heels,” I said. “But only because you’re forcing me.”
“I meant your dress. There’s paint all over it.”
“It’s only a few drops. Gives it character.”
Delia rolled her eyes. “You’re a mess. As usual. I’m surprised you brushed your hair.”
“It’s a Saturday, isn’t it?” I shot my dad a wink.
He winked back. “Let’s go, my dears. It’s an hour drive, and if we leave now, we’ll be…” He pretended to check his watch. “Yes, quite early.”
Delia sucked in a breath, switching on her infamous Business Mode.
“I know you think I’m crazy, but you’ll thank me when we don’t have to hunt for parking. It’s going to be crowded and I get anxious if we run late.”
“You? Anxious?” I said. “Get out of town.”
“God, can you take anything seriously for once in your life?” Delia said, rounding on me. “Stop with the jokes. And when the ceremony starts, you are not to cause a scene and embarrass me.”
I blinked my eyes innocently. “Whatever do you mean?”
She gave me a Delia Death Glare. “You know exactly what I mean. Nothing inappropriate.”
“You’re no fun.”
“You’re enough fun for the both of us.”
“Truth.”
My big sister was the most by-the-book gal you could hope to meet whereas I lived for the moment. Dad liked to joke that he had to take Mom’s word that we were blood-related.
“We have time for a few photos,” Mom said, readying her cell phone. “Squish together, girls. You too, Linden.”
“You gotta get in here, Mom,” I said. “Use my phone. It has a timer.”
I bounced forward, opened the timer app in my phone and set it on the ledge across from our stairway. Then I bunched up with my favorite people in the world.
“We have ten seconds,” I said through a smile. “Say cheese doodles.”
The phone made a clicking sound. Mom took it off the shelf and checked the image.
“Perfect. You both look beautiful.” Her eyes filled as she turned the camera to our dad. “Don’t they look beautiful?”
Dad nodded. He hugged Delia around the shoulders. “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart.” He looked to me and shot me a wink. “You too, sweet pea.”
Twenty-one years old and he was still calling me sweet pea. I hoped he’d never stop.
I slung an arm around Delia. “I’m proud of you too, sis. University of Virginia’s salutatorian. You’re kind of a big deal.”
“Thank you, Thea,” Delia said with the warm smile she saved for special occasions. Then she cleared her throat. Business Mode. “Can we please go now?”
“Yes, yes.” Dad took his car keys off the hook on the wall and opened the front door with a flourish. “Ladies.”
We shuffled toward the door, my feet already pinched in those silly shoes. A phone chimed in someone’s bag or pocket.
“Mine,” Delia said, rummaging in her purse. She read a text and clenched her teeth. “Roger’s parents flaked on him. Again. He needs a ride to graduation.”
“They’re not going to his graduation?” I asked. “God, they are the worst.”
The Nyes lived a few blocks down, in a house like ours, on a street as nice as ours, and yet they may as well have lived on the moon, they were so different from Mom and Dad. My parents’ unfailing love and support for Delia and me made it impossible to understand how the Nyes consistently treated their son like an afterthought.
“No problem,” Dad said. “We can swing by and pick him up.”
Delia took her car keys off the hook now. “No, I’ll drive him. You guys go.”