So here Effie was, on one of her rare days away from the library.
‘Effie!’ came a familiar fluting voice. The voice wavered as its owner hurried down the wide, Spanish-tiled steps that led up to the hotel’s wraparound porch.
Sabine embraced Effie, who found herself pressed against a dangly earring made of tiered bells and long greying waves of hair. As kids, Effie and Bonnie had always joked about drowning in the Sabine hair tsunami. Effie wasn’t much of a hugger, but exceptions could be made for Sabine.
Sabine pulled back, looking at Effie with her gold-flecked eyes. As always, she wore a flowing outfit: a floral kaftan with a patterned shawl draped around her shoulders. Shimmery and rippling, her attire always reminded Effie of a gentle breeze. She dressed like a less self-conscious version of Bonnie’s friend Alana.
‘No Bonnie today?’ Sabine adjusted her shawl, something she did when she was trying to ward off bad energy.
Ah. Of course, she’d figured that something was wrong. Sabine had spent a lifetime working with the public, and could instantly read someone’s body language. It was a skill you quickly perfected if you wanted to stay ahead of angry calls to the manager.
Effie hesitated, not sure how to respond. How could she tell Mom’s lifelong best friend that the two daughters who represented all that was left of the Chalmers family line (if you took a matrilineal approach, Uncle Oswald didn’t count) were scarcely talking to each other?
‘We’ll see,’ said Effie cagily. ‘You know what Bonnie’s like.’
Arrogant. Know-it-all. And willing to entertain the business ideas of Oswald of all people!
Sabine nodded. ‘I’m sure she’s busy with the bar. It’s good to see that she’s found a passion for something. Community building.’
Effie’s immediate inclination was to retort that running a bar wasn’t about community building at all. Now a library,thatwas doing something for the community. A free space where all were welcome, where you could expand your understanding of the world and hone new skills. As opposed to a bar, where people were plied with alcohol, unleashing their worst selves upon the town square at closing time.
But Sabine’s gentle presence always brought out the best in everyone around her. Instead of giving in to her natural defensiveness – a protective mechanism honed over years of living in Bonnie’s shadow – Effie simply nodded.
Running a hand over the porch railing, Sabine stared down the hill at the town, with its red rooftops and autumnal trees. She smiled gently, drinking in the crisp air of the season, which beckoned with promises of pumpkin patches and chrysanthemum planters.
‘I suppose we can wait for her a little longer. Let’s get some lemonade and sandwiches, for old times’ sake. Ham and yellow pickles?’
Now it was Effie’s time to smile. Sabine knew her too well. Effie might have switched to peanut butter and jelly in her day-to-day life, but at the hotel, ham and pickles reigned.
Sabine put in the order with the kitchen, then pulled out a black-and-white patterned chair for Effie to take a seat. She followed, taking the opposite seat. Lost in memory, the two of them sat quietly for a moment, watching a finch flick its tail atop the railing.
Maureen, one of the kitchen staff, hurried up with a silvery platter, dropping off their sandwiches and drinks, together with a bud vase of flowers.
‘You’re looking good,’ said Maureen, shrewdly regarding Effie as she adjusted the barrette in her salt-and-pepper hair. ‘I know that colour in the cheeks. What’s their name, this new person in your life?’
Maureen had an incredible knack for spotting the lovesick in a crowd. But this was the first time she’d levelled it at Effie – usually Bonnie was the one she was quizzing about crushes and dates and matrimonial intent.
Effie blinked. ‘No name. It’s—’
Thankfully, Bonnie’s Cadillac roared up the driveway just then, creating a rumbling distraction from Effie’s non-existent love life. Crookedly parking the car in the widest spot, Bonnie strutted up to Effie and Sabine – Maureen had apologetically raced back inside to deal with a guest. She wore a skirt so short that Effie was sure her legs must have got stuck to the leather seats of her car, and boots that, no matter what Nancy Sinatra might have said, definitely weren’t made for walking.
Bonnie waggled her fingers at Sabine, ignoring Effie.
‘Love the spread,’ she said, flicking her perfect blonde tresses and propping her sunglasses up on her head. ‘Sabine, you look stunning, as usual. The shawl is giving me life. I brought you these.’
She set down a small box of brownies and a bouquet ofchrysanthemums on the table, deliberately blocking Effie’s view.
Oblivious to the tension between the two sisters, Sabine embraced Bonnie, who hugged right back, rocking Mom’s friend back and forth on the spot. Effie nibbled a sandwich, feeling instantly cast aside. Bonnie had arrived full of compliments and gifts, her sunniness overshadowing Effie’s own reserved presence. And punctuality.
‘Oh, it’s so good to see you girls,’ said Sabine gently. She pulled back to regard them both. ‘You both remind me so much of Lyra. It’s like you were both spun off her, in your own ways.’
‘So, what’s the surprise?’ asked Bonnie, dropping into a chair and propping her booted feet up on the last remaining seat. Sabine had mentioned something in her messages about a surprise, but she’d been coy.
‘It’s something we at the hotel have been talking about for a long while. Come on.’
Sabine stood, leading the sisters off the porch and down into the manicured hotel gardens, which in their perfection rivalled the yard of the sisters’ lawn-proud neighbour Freddie Noonan. Asters and geraniums brightened the walkways, their flowers vivid pinks and lilacs. Ducks waddled about, plumage shimmering green and purple.
Effie drank it all in. She’d made this same walk a thousand times, and before Mom’s death, had assumed she’d make it a thousand times more.
