“I’m so sorry,” Adalia cried into her shoulder.
“Hey,” Georgie said as she pulled back and smoothed the hair off Adalia’s cheek. “We’re gonna fix this, okay?”
Adalia looked up at her with hazel eyes so wide with hope Georgie couldn’t help but wonder what it was she’d done.
They collected her two large suitcases and wrestled them into the back of Georgie’s Lexus—which had been delivered a few days prior—then headed back to Beau’s house.
Five minutes of silence ticked away before Georgie asked the obligatory How was your flight? question, and Adalia announced she’d sat next to someone with terrible B.O. Finally, her sister asked, “Aren’t you going to grill me about what happened?”
Georgie started to answer, then stopped, darting a quick glance at Adalia before returning her attention to the road. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
They got home, and each of them rolled one of the suitcases to the house. Georgie had learned her lesson after the disaster with Josie. Thank God, River had saved so much of her stuff. A smile came to her lips.
“Who is he?” Adalia asked with narrowed eyes.
Georgie’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest, but she managed to hide it, she thought.
“What are you talking about?” she asked as she unlocked the front door.
“Okay, I’ll let it go for now,” Adalia said as she followed her in. “But expect an interrogation later. Just like I’m waiting for mine.”
Georgie stopped and turned to her sister. “There will be no interrogation from me later. I meant it, Addy. You tell me when you’re ready. I’m just glad you’re here.”
They carted the bags upstairs, and Georgie showed her the bedroom she’d picked out for her, a room whose windows looked out onto the backyard. River had turned on a lamp on the bedside table, giving it an inviting look.
“It reminded me of a tree house. I remembered how you always wanted one when we were kids,” Georgie said, now feeling foolish—then horrified when Adalia’s eyes filled with tears. “We can exchange rooms, if you like. Or you can have one of the other two.”
Adalia shook her head. “No. I love it.”
Relief rushed through Georgie’s body and she sagged against a dresser. At least she’d gotten this one thing right. “Okay. Good.”
Adalia set her suitcase down at the end of the bed and stared out the window. “Why aren’t you yelling at me? Or telling me what a screwup I am?”
“Because you are not a screwup,” Georgie said insistently. “You made a mistake. We’ll fix it.”
“Dad would be furious. And Lee…” She released a sob and sat on the bed, still looking out the windows. “He knew what was happening, but he would never understand this.”
Georgie bit back the urge to ask why Adalia hadn’t come to her before, but she must have had her reasons and Georgie’s hurt feelings had no place here. Besides, River was right—when it had mattered, Adalia had come to her. “Well, I’m glad you noticed I’m not like Dad or Lee,” she said with a small laugh. “We may all be in business, but I handle things very differently than they do.”
Adalia turned back to face her with bloodshot eyes. “I know. I realized that when the three of us had breakfast. You were so passionate about the brewery. Dad and Lee might be good at what they do, but they’re never passionate about it. But you…” She cringed and her gaze lowered to the vintage white chenille bedspread, her fingertips rubbing absentmindedly over the bumps. “I figured you were like Dad, all cold and businessy. I guess I was wrong.”
Georgie couldn’t suppress her laugh. “Businessy?”
Adalia looked up with a grin. “You know. Like you have a stick up your ass.”
Georgie nodded, still laughing. “Okay.” She sat on the bed next to her sister. “You usually see me when I’m with Dad and/or Lee, and I guess I’m different when I’m with them. I act like I think they want me to act. That’s not the real me. It’s maybe who they want me to be.”
As she said the words, she knew they were true. How had she never realized that before?
Adalia reached over and took her sister’s hand. “That’s sad, Georgie.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“Seeing the light in your eyes when you talked about the brewery made me realize you were much more like Mom and me than I gave you credit for.”
Georgie’s eyes flew wide. “You think I’m like Mom?”
The thought made her equally elated and terrified. Her mother had been warm and open, the kind of person people gravitated toward. She’d also become their father’s doormat.
Adalia nodded. “More than I realized. I’m sorry.”
Georgie shook her head. “No. I tried to be the kind of person Dad would find impressive, but it doesn’t fit me well.”
“So maybe you should stop trying,” Adalia said. “Just be you and to hell with what anyone thinks.”
Didn’t she know it. She was getting there, but it was so much easier said than done.
Adalia turned serious. “You’re still not going to ask me what happened?”
Georgie rubbed the back of Adalia’s hand with her thumb. “No. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” she whispered.
“I’m listening.”
Adalia poured her heart out. Alan Stansworth, her mentor from art school, had invited her to work in his large studio since she had limited space in her small apartment. Soon after she started working in his studio, he started taking a special interest in her mixed media sculptures. They worked together and eventually slept together, and the closer they got, the more controlling he became.
It was then some of her pieces started disappearing. He told her that space was so limited in the studio, he’d had them moved to his storage unit. He was doing her a favor. Why was she picking a fight when he was just trying to help her? It continued for a couple of months, until Adalia was missing over twenty pieces of art. She’d sought advice from Lee, who had been helpful and encouraging, but he’d told her that he couldn’t really help unless she ended things with Alan. She’d tried, but their relationship had become a vicious cycle, just like their parents’ marriage had been. Alan would fall all over himself to apologize to her, then he’d shower her with gifts and attention, until a few days later he’d shift to being berating and controlling. He’d cut her off from her friends in New York and had pitched a fit when she’d come to Asheville for the funeral, saying she was losing precious time she should spend focusing on her art.
“Oh, Addy,” Georgie said through her tears. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
Adalia shook her head, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Alan had gotten a showing at Michael Roe, a very coveted gallery. He was so secretive about the whole thing, and I had no idea what he was showing. I hadn’t seen him work on anything of note in months. So on a whim, I stopped by to visit the gallery yesterday evening while they were setting up for the opening tomorrow night.” She choked on a sob as she looked up at her sister. “They were my sculptures, Georgie. He’d stolen my art and put his name on it.”