The Sister (The Boss 6)

I came out and headed to the dining room to check out the setup. The housekeepers from the agency always did a great job with things, but maybe they’d gone a little overboard for our dinner. I shouldn’t have stressed that it was an important occasion. They’d used the Versace Byzantine Dreams china and Baccarat water glasses, and placed a whole goddamn flowering apple branch in the center of the table in lieu of a floral arrangement. Beside each plate, a small crystal bowl of apple blossom petals sat there doing absolutely nothing useful.

“Neil!” I called, hurrying through the living room to find him. “Seriously, we need to have a talk with the housekeepers, because I might have to fire the agen—”

As I stepped through the wide doorway from the living room into the foyer, I practically skidded to a halt. Susan and Travis stood there, beside Neil, who looked as though he’d swallowed something horizontally.

“Sophie. I thought you would have heard the doorbell,” he said, his smile tense.

“No, I didn’t, I was just—” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “There’s a…tree. On our dining room table. It’s weird.”

Susan and Travis’s eyebrows went up in unison, and they nodded as though they understood. Which was kind of them to pretend.

“I swear, I don’t run around threatening to fire people all the time.” Why are you still talking? Why are you still talking!

“Only on Thursdays,” Neil interjected smoothly. He motioned ahead of him. “Shall we go into the living room? Dinner isn’t quite ready, I’m afraid.”

“Sorry we’re so early,” Travis said, coming to shake my hand. “We didn’t know how long the subway would take.”

“You took the subway?” Neil asked, and I winced internally. “When you leave, you must let us hire you a car. I know how tiring trade conferences can be.”

Did he? I supposed he must have gone to some kinds of expos or conventions in his line of work, but never since I’d known him. It might have just been an off-the-cuff remark to try to break the ice.

“That’s great, man, thanks,” Travis said, and nudged Susan. “Isn’t that nice?”

“Yes, thank you.” Susan’s eyes met mine, and a silent understanding passed between us. In working so hard to make this less awkward, our husbands had succeeded in making it far more uncomfortable than it might have been.

“The living room is this way,” I said motioning for them to follow us.

Everything, from the thick dark wood beams across the stark white ceiling to the designer rug beneath our feet, seemed more pretentious than usual. I almost apologized, but thankfully, I realized how fucking terrible an apology like that would sound. Sorry our things are so impressive and expensive.

“Wow, you have a beautiful home,” Susan said, her expression brightening.

“Susan is a realtor,” Travis said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Well, I got my license. I’m not putting my pictures on any signs, yet.” Her eyes were everywhere, scaling the walls and sliding over the fireplace. “I wouldn’t be able to sell this place, though. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well, it’s pre-war, renovated ten years ago,” Neil rattled off. “Three bedrooms, three and a half baths, service quarters, home gym, home theatre, steam showers in the master and en-suites…”

Susan laughed. She laughed, like she wasn’t the same person I’d met on Monday. “Half of that is way above my pay grade.”

Susan and Travis sat on the sofa. Her posture was stiff, his “business casual”, like he was trying to be relatable and warm to a client. Neil and I took the chairs.

“So, Sophie,” Travis began. “We didn’t have much time to catch up at the reunion. Sunny says you work for a magazine?”

“Yeah, well, I own it,” I corrected him. “I don’t know how much work I actually do, compared to some of our employees.”

“I know that feeling. I see some of our guys are out there unloading trusses or driving the forklift in November, and I’m sitting in my nice warm office.” He laughed. “Sophie knows all about the winters there.”

I nodded and gestured toward Neil. “He’s pretty familiar with bad winters, himself. He spent most of his childhood in Iceland.”

“I read that in your book,” Susan said, then, a little more subdued, “I’m sorry if it’s strange to say that.”

“I told her she shouldn’t have,” Travis added quickly. “Now, she knows more about you than you know about her.”

A lump stuck in my throat. I cleared it and tried not to dwell on that stolen familial relationship. “No, it’s okay. So many strangers have read it, I don’t think I have any secrets, anymore.”

“Did anyone in your family read it?” Travis seemed genuinely interested, not like he was just making small talk. And that was nice and all, but he’d just cleanly carved a line between Susan and I. Did anyone in your family read it? Because your biological half-sister did. But you’re not our family.