Amber cranes her neck as I close the door behind me. I’d be curious, too, if I were outside Sharon Keller-Yakub’s spectacular home, a jewel box of light waterfalling down the side of a ravine. It’s very California; Sharon said some famous architect designed it in the seventies. That’s when this neighborhood was developed by investors who, hoping to win a bid for the Winter Olympics, turned Grey Tusk Mountain from a backcountry secret into what would become the top-rated ski resort on the continent.
There’s a lot of money in Grey Tusk, but this street is where people live when they have the outrageous funds required to commission one-of-a-kind houses and maintain them as they age. It’s Downton Abbey, mountain edition.
“Hi, Amber. This needs to be quick. I’m going out.”
“Mom and Dad are asking why you haven’t been over.”
Amber’s subdued. She uncharacteristically has said nothing about my outfit. Yesterday, she left a bunch of messages on my phone, at first ecstatic with relief and gratitude, then confused after my sole reply was a brief request for Eleanor updates. Then businesslike:Please call, we need to talk.
“I bet.”
She blows out a breath. “Thank you. For Eleanor. You were the last person I expected to find her.”
“Amber…” I turn to go, not up for any of her backhanded compliments.
“I wasn’t a good sister to you, back then.”
“What?” My rush of surprise feels like a dream where I’m looking up at the ocean’s surface, running out of air, and suddenly I discover I can breathe underwater.
Her lips tremble, squeeze, tremble again. Amber’s a nurse. She’s seen it all, and shenevercracks. “I hated Mark for bailing after Eleanor’s diagnosis. But I was glad, too. El didn’t need anyonewho wouldn’t love her and advocate for her unconditionally. So, we came home.
“One day, Mom dug out some old photo albums, and Eleanor got so excited about this one picture.That me, that me,over and over. It was you and me, outside the art classroom at the community center. You know how El smiles when she’s stressed, but still trying to do what people expect? You were doing that, too.”
I know the photo she means. We were five and eight, maybe. Amber’s giving the camera a saucy smirk. I’m showing lots of teeth, less like a smile than an animal backed into a corner.
“That night, I looked through the albums. That time you were so into your book, you didn’t notice Dad had built a fort of kitchen chairs around the couch. You on your first solo canoe, frowning until Mom told you to smile. Your first day of high school…” She takes a breath. “And I’m pretending I don’t know you because I don’t want to be seen with my weird little sister.”
“Not helpful, Amber.”
She spreads her hands wide. “What do you want, you were a weird little kid. But I didn’t have to be a shit about it. There’s all these pictures at my birthday parties, and you’re hiding in the background, on the outside looking in. It’s like a Lewis familyWhere’s Waldo,except Waldo needs her sister to get her head out of her ass. You needed someone to love you unconditionally. I wish that would’ve been me, when we were kids. I wish that would’ve been me on your wedding day, too. I’m sorry it wasn’t.”
“Oh, Am-bam.” I reach for her hand. I don’t remember the last time I called her that nickname, but it feels right.
“After I figured it out, I way overcompensated. I had no right to think I knew better than you how to run your life. As you showed me,” she says, rueful. “You have a way with solving problems. It’s a gift.” She pins me with a direct look. “And it’s why you’re going to kick ass at your new job.”
Well. Maybe. I haven’t answered Craig’s emails yet.
“Can you make it for dinner tonight? Eleanor would love to see you.” There’s a note in her voice I haven’t heard before. The respect grown siblings show each other, maybe?
“I’ll come tonight. But after that, you and I need time and distance to make a fresh start, without the pressure of Mom and Dad’s expectations. We both need to take responsibility for our share of the damage.”
I should know. I only hope it’s not too late to repair the damage I’ve done to the one I love. We’re alike in that way, Amber and I—we both had to lose people to find out how much we needed them.
A subtle crease pops up between her eyebrows. “Not too much distance. Eleanor still needs you.”
Somehow it’s reassuring that Amber’s still Amber, bossing me around—or trying. “I know. I need her, too. See you tonight.”
I step back inside. My hand stings; when I unclench it, gold gleams from my palm. I’m going to lose these if I don’t put them in right now.
The left one winks at me from the mahogany-framed foyer mirror as I slide the hook through my earlobe. The tangle of golden lines looks kind of like a horse.
I pause, the other earring halfway to my right ear.
That’s it.
I clump down to the kitchen, jingling in double time. “Sharon—huge favor. Did you keep any of your kids’ old toys?”
She laughs. “They’re nineteen and twenty-one and they still flip when I threaten to throw out a single comic book. Bins are in the basement; it’s all yours.”
