Chapter 6 - The Sister's Desperation
On Wednesday afternoon, I was finishing a cup of tea at a small cafe near Lily’s art school when the door clicked open, spilling cold air and the sound of street traffic inside.
I didn't need to turn around to know who had walked in. The sharp, frantic clicking of high heels against the hardwood floor was a rhythm I had memorized over a lifetime.
Diane dropped into the wooden chair opposite me without asking for permission.
She looked terrible. The polished, superior suburban princess who had smirked over the sweet potato casserole four nights ago was completely gone. She wore no makeup, her hair was tied back in a messy knot, and her designer coat was missing two buttons.
"Vivien," she breathed out, her hands trembling as she set a crumpled leather purse on the table. "Please. Don't turn away. Just listen to me for five minutes."
I signaled to the barista that I was fine, then looked at my sister with calm, distant eyes. "You have four minutes, Diane. I have to pick up Lily at three."
"Greg left the house this morning," Diane whispered, her voice cracking as tears filled her bloodshot eyes. "He spent the last three days screaming at me, Vivien! He blamed me! He said if I hadn't opened my big mouth at Christmas dinner, we would have the money right now! He told me he's filing for divorce if the company goes under on Friday!"
I didn't say anything. I simply watched her.
"Do you hear what I'm saying?!" Diane pleaded, reaching across the small table to grab my hand. I pulled my hand back smoothly, leaving her fingers clutching cold air. "My marriage is ending, Vivien! Greg is going to leave me! We're going to lose our house in Oak Park! Everything I've built for the last five years is disappearing!"
"You didn't build anything, Diane," I said, my voice steady and quiet. "Greg built a company on borrowed money and fake arrogance, and you built a lifestyle on my sweat and Arthur's memory."
"I apologized!" Diane cried, pulling a handful of tissues from her bag to dab at her nose. "I text you twenty times a day! I told you I was wrong! What more do you want from me?!"
"I wanted a sister," I said, leaning forward slightly. "I wanted a sister who, when she saw my six-year-old daughter sitting quietly at a holiday table, would offer her a piece of pie or ask her about her drawing. Instead, you looked at my father, saw an opportunity to show off, and decided to kick a widow and her child out into a snowstorm."
"It was just words, Vivien!" Diane sobbed. "People say stupid things when they're stressed! Families fight! You can't ruin our lives over a few harsh words!"
"Words have weight, Diane," I replied. "When you told me to leave and never come back, you made a contract. I simply signed it."
I pulled out a small piece of paper from my coat pocket and placed it on the table between us. It was a cashier's check for ten thousand dollars, drawn from my personal account.
Diane looked down at the check, her eyes flashing with a sudden, desperate hope. "Vivien... is this...?"
"That is a personal gift to you," I said flatly. "It is enough to hire a good divorce lawyer and pay three months' rent on an apartment for yourself. It is not for Greg. It is not for his business. And if you hand a single dollar of it to him, I will have Marcus enforce a gift tax lien on your personal credit."
Diane stared at the check, then up at me, realization finally dawning in her eyes.
I was not going to save her marriage. I was not going to save her husband's fake company. I was giving her a lifeboat for her, but she had to leave the luxury yacht behind.
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"I have to get Lily now," I said, standing up and zipping my coat. "Have a nice afternoon, Diane."
I walked out of the cafe, leaving my sister sitting alone at the corner table, clutching a ten-thousand-dollar check while her gilded world burned around her.
