How to Keep a Secret

“Yes. I remember you telling us he picked up some big investors from Russia and the Arab states.”

“That’s right. Well, the fund grew pretty fast, and that was when he decided to take a different path. He acquired a few private companies, including a leisure company. They got themselves into debt.” She stared into space, the jug forgotten. “James told me that investors started asking for their money back, and that’s when it all fell apart. Almost all the money was tied up and Ed hadn’t drawn income for more than a year, something he failed to tell me. He extended the mortgage on our house. James thinks he really did believe he’d figure it all out without having to tell me—” She roused herself and looked at Jenna. “So I need a job.”

“What about your plans to start your interior design business? It’s all you’ve talked about for the past couple of years.”

“That was a dream. Real life isn’t built on dreams.”

“Don’t say that. Without dreams, where would we be?”

“Living in the land of reality.”

Jenna thought about the baby she wanted so badly. “Sometimes a dream can become reality.”

“That’s in books and movies.” Lauren’s tone was bleak and Jenna felt as if someone had wrenched her heart out of her chest.

If her sister wouldn’t come to her, then she’d go to her sister.

Pushing the pans out of the way, she sat down on the floor next to Lauren and put her arms round her.

“I’m not going to be one of those annoying people who says ‘I know how you feel.’ I can’t possibly know how you feel. All I’m going to say is that I’m here and I love you. We’ll get through this somehow.”

“How?” Lauren leaned her head on Jenna’s shoulder. “I need a job, Jenna. That has to be the first thing. And I can’t be picky.”

“You are the smartest woman I know. We’ll find a way you can still start your business.”

“To do that, I’d need money. Also clients. I always knew it would take time. In England I had contacts and a network. Here, I don’t know anyone.”

“But I do. And Mom does. Mom knows everyone.”

“No one is going to take on an interior designer whose work they haven’t seen. My house in London was my showroom.”

“Maybe you can use my house as a showroom. It could use the attention. God, this floor is hard. How long have you been sitting here?” Jenna stood up and pulled Lauren to her feet. “Sit at the table. I’ll put the kettle on. What time is Mom home?”

“I don’t know. She has a conservation committee meeting.” Lauren stacked saucepans. “Is she on every committee?”

“Pretty much. Could you eat eggs? I make great scrambled eggs. If it’s the conservation committee we have plenty of time.” She cracked eggs into a bowl, beat them with a whisk and sizzled some butter in the skillet. “One of Greg’s clients has started a yoga class. I thought we could go together.”

Lauren started to laugh. “Yoga? You hate yoga.”

“But you love it.” Jenna tipped eggs into the pan. “The fact that I’m willing to contort myself into uncomfortable shapes is a measure of my love for you. There is no one else in this world who could persuade me to sign up for a yoga class.”

Lauren shook her head. “You don’t need to go to yoga for me.”

“If we did it together, it would be fun. We could giggle in the back row like teenagers and generally be disruptive.” She stirred the eggs and lowered the heat. “We could start some serious gossip. I can imagine it now. Those Stewart sisters.”

Lauren looked wistful. “It’s been a while since anyone called us that.”

Too long, Jenna thought.

Nostalgia: a yearning for the return of past circumstances.

“When you texted me, you said you wanted to talk about Mom.”

“Yes. I want to talk to her about everything and I thought it would be good if we did it together.”

“By ‘everything’ do you mean the house, or—” Jenna hesitated. There were some things even they didn’t discuss. “Other stuff?”

“What? No! The house. That’s it.” The look of alarm on her sister’s face answered her question.