A Tangled Web (2 page)

But she had been Stephanie Andersen for a year of love and discoveries, and most of the time she missed her other life simply as a child misses a bedtime fairy tale: something dreamlike and perfect, not real. Not real, Sabrina told herself. Not real. Below, on the dark grass, she spotted Cliff's T-shirt, tossed to the side that afternoon in the heat of an impromptu soccer match. That's what is real: all the little things and the big ones that make a family. That was my wish, a year ago, when I wanted to live Stephanie's life. And it came true.

But it came true with a terrible dark side.

Because Stephanie died. And because she was murdered.

“You're not responsible,” Garth said from the doorway. “You couldn't know what would happen, and there
was nothing in your life that led her inevitably to her death.”

“I tell myself that,” Sabrina said, her voice low. “But I keep wondering . . . How did the police know that the bomb was put on the ship just to kill Max? What if it was to kill Stephanie, too? Because to them she was Sabrina and she might have gotten involved in something. Once, when I was at Ambassadors after the funeral, I was sure that was what happened, that she had said something that made them feel threatened. I don't know, I just don't know. But if I hadn't been so happy here, I might have pushed her to tell me what she was doing, what Max was doing, and whether she knew anything about it. Maybe I could have warned her. I
knew
those people and she'd just met them. But all those months I was living her life. happier than I'd ever been and turning my back on everything over there.
I never asked
.”

Garth sat behind her on the window seat, his arms around her, and Sabrina rested against him. “Maybe couldn't have done anything. I don't know. But I do know that all I really cared about was you and the children—”

“Listen to me, my love.” His voice was patient; they had gone over this so many times, but still he went through it each time as if it were the first. “You told me you'd talked to her about the forged artworks and she handled the whole thing brilliantly. She kept Ambassadors out of that scandal; she protected its reputation as if it were her own shop. You did warn her to stay away from Max, not because he was the head of a smuggling operation—none of us knew that until it was too late—but because you'd never liked him or trusted him. She had plenty of information from you, and she probably had learned a lot more that you didn't know. She was a smart, grown-up woman who chose her own path. You can't hold yourself responsible for the choices she made.”

“I know, I know. But”—she looked around the room—“I have all this, I have everything, and she—”

“Yes, I think of that.” Garth turned her in his arms and
kissed her. “My dear love, I think of that more than you know. But I cannot feel guilty for what we have found.”

“Mommy, don't you want to open your presents?” Penny stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and worried. “Are you sick or something? Everybody's worried about you.”

Sabrina smiled. “Everybody?”

“Well, Cliff and me. 'Cause if you forgot about your presents . . .”

“I must be sick.” She laughed and hugged Penny. her somberness lifting.

Garth gazed at her beauty and thought of all she had been to him since last Christmas, when he had brought her back from London. She had played the shabbiest trick that could be played on someone close and vulnerable, but it had not been done from malice, and in the end, she had been trapped by her love for them and theirs for her. And who could have foreseen that? he mused. We'd never even liked each other very much.

But she had changed in the years since he had first met her, and she changed again, living with them, so that, after a while, she truly was not always sure which sister she was, and that was another way she was trapped. Once Garth realized that, he let himself love her with a passion greater than any he had ever known with Stephanie or anyone else.

“So can we go?” Penny asked. “We've been waiting and waiting . . .”

“You're right, it's time,” Sabrina said. “But where are the presents?”

“We hid them in the best place! Guess where!”

“Oh, Penny, can we play guessing games later? Why don't you just put them in the living room? Then Mrs. Thirkell can clear the table.”

“Okay. On the coffee table or the couch or . . . ?”

“You decide,” Garth said firmly. “We'll be down in a minute.”

Penny gave them both a swift look, seeking reassurance,
then gave a little nod and dashed out. Sabrina turned again to Garth and kissed him. “I love you. I'm sorry I get so . . . lost, sometimes.”

“It's not something you choose. But it is getting better, isn't it?”

“Yes. Oh, yes, of course. Time, and so much love, and wonderful kids who demand a lot of attention . . . Do you know, I find myself thinking about Stephanie and then I tell myself, ‘I'll think about her later, after I have my conference with Cliff's teacher or take Penny shopping or help Linda with an estate sale . . .' and I do, in snatched minutes, but then you come home and everything seems wonderful because you're here . . .”

Garth's arms tightened around her. “Everything is wonderful. And I won't allow us to deny what we've found, and that it gets more astonishingly wonderful all the time.”

“Do you know what I wished when I blew out the candles?”

“Penny says you're not supposed to tell anyone.”

“You're not ‘anyone,' you're my love, and I can tell you anything. I wished that everything would stay the same. You, the children, this house, our friends. I want it all to stay just as it is.” She gave a small laugh. “Dolores would say that's because no woman wants to have any more birthdays past thirty.”

“But the truth is, you wished it because it took us so long to find what we have. I wish it, too, you know, every night when I'm falling asleep with you in my arms. I'd hold back the clock for you, my love, but that's not my branch of science. Come on, now, we'd better get to those presents. Mine isn't there, by the way. I'll give it to you later, when we're alone.”

“Is it so private? The children will be disappointed. Remember when I tried that with your birthday present.”

“Oh, Lord, I suppose you're right. Where do children get these ironclad ideas about appropriate family behavior?
Well, okay, but it is private and special; you'll understand when you see it.”

“How mysterious.” Sabrina took Garth's hand and they walked down the stairs and into the living room, where the others waited.

“Thirteen years married and still holding hands,” said Marty Talvia. “We should drink a toast to that. And it so happens that I brought a special port for the occasion.” He reached over the back of the couch and retrieved the bottle he had hidden there. “And the admirable Mrs. Thirkell has provided glasses, so I shall pour while Stephanie opens presents. You'd better start, Stephanie, or your kids will explode with waiting.”

Penny had placed three packages on the coffee table, and Sabrina removed the wrapping paper from the two top ones, opening them at the same time. “Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed. “I've been wanting a new necklace. Penny, how did you know? And is this candleholder made of walnut. Cliff? It's perfect with our new tablecloth; we'll use it tomorrow night.”

“We made them in school,” Cliff said. “Dad said it was better to make things than buy them.”

“Of course it is. I love whatever you give me, but it's special when you make something yourself. And I love you. More than anybody in the whole—”

“Except for Dad,” said Cliff.

“Always except for Dad.” Over their heads, Sabrina met Garth's eyes. “Always.”

“Port,” said Marty Talvia, handing small glasses to the six of them. “Penny and Cliff, you'll have to wait a few years.”

“Mom lets us take a sip,” Cliff said. “She never used to, but all of a sudden, you know, lately she started—”

“It's because you're twelve,” Garth said.

“But I'm only eleven and I get a sip, too,” said Penny.

“Those are the magic ages: eleven and twelve,” Sabrina said lightly, sliding past another observation—one of so many in the past year—that she did things differently
from the way Stephanie had done them. “Now, what's going to happen to that large, elegantly wrapped gift still sitting on the coffee table?”

“Open it!” cried Cliff.

“Please open it,” Linda Talvia said. “I'm going crazy, waiting.”

“So am I,” Dolores said. “We bought it together. Of course you can buy any of these things for yourself now, but we thought—”

“Not necessary,” said Nat, his hand on her arm.

Sabrina pretended to be absorbed in working open the gilt wrapping paper. There had been difficult moments among the six of them when the others became aware of how much money and property the Andersens now had, since Sabrina's will had left everything to her sister.
I've left everything to myself,
Sabrina had thought, frantic with despair and bitter humor the previous October, in those awful weeks after Stephanie's funeral. But she and Garth were careful to keep their life much as it had been except for a few changes. They had had the house painted, and she had gradually brought in some fine antiques from London and from Collectibles, the shop in Evanston where she had become a partner. She had linked Collectibles to Ambassadors, and occasionally she went to London to buy at auction and to watch over her shop. She and Garth took more short trips together, and of course Mrs. Thirkell was there, the perfect housekeeper, the envy of everyone.

Those had been the only changes, and as the months went by, everyone seemed to forget that Garth and Stephanie Andersen had become wealthy, at least compared with other academics in Evanston.

But now Linda said, “We think about it, though, buying you things. It used to be so different. Remember when we bought you that bathrobe? Dolores thought it was too loud, but I said you'd been wearing brighter colors since you got back from China, so we bought it and you loved—”

“Oh, wonderful,” Sabrina breathed, lifting from its
cushioned box a Penrose Waterford decanter. From the early nineteenth century, it was etched with eight-pointed stars, its stopper shaped like a small umbrella above three doughnut-like rings. “It's absolutely perfect. Where did you find it?”

“The Charteris estate sale. I knew you liked Waterford.”

“Oh, I do. And I've never had a Penrose.”

“You've never had Waterford, period. Until lately, that is.”

“That's true.” Sabrina barely noticed her small slip; no one else did, either. By now she did not guard her tongue as she had in the beginning; if she spoke occasionally from Sabrina's background and experience, or did not know what they were talking about when they reminisced together, the others found ways to explain it away. They explained everything away; they always had, from her first night home when they were in the kitchen and she'd asked Garth and the children where they kept the pot holders. After that there had been dozens of mistakes and slips of the tongue, but no one was suspicious or even curious because, Sabrina realized, people see what they expect to see and they find reasons for oddities to protect the comfortable order and predictability of their lives.

Now, in her living room, she set the decanter on the coffee table and stretched her arms wide. “What a wonderful birthday. The best I've ever had. It's so perfect, being here with all of you, knowing this is where I belong . . .”

“Dad, you didn't give Mom a present,” Cliff said accusingly.

“Where is it?” Penny demanded. “You told us you got it.”

Garth grinned at Sabrina. “Right again.” He pulled a small velvet box from his shirt pocket and put it in her hand. “With all my love. For now, for always.”

Sabrina kissed him, then opened the box. A long sigh broke from her.

“What is it? What is it?” Penny cried.

“Hold it up, Mom!” said Cliff.

“It's a ring,” Nat said, looking into the box over Sabrina's shoulder. “Stunning. A star sapphire, yes?” he asked Garth.

“Yes,” Garth murmured, his eyes holding Sabrina's.

She put her hand along his face. “My engagement ring.”

“But you're already married,” Penny protested.

“I never had an engagement ring,” Sabrina said.

“Neither did I,” said Dolores. “Probably for the same reason: Nat couldn't afford it.”

“Neither could Marty,” Linda said. “Garth, what a nice idea.”

Garth pulled off Sabrina's gold wedding band and slipped the engagement ring and wedding band together onto her finger. Sabrina closed her eyes. This ring was for a wedding the others knew nothing about. This was for a rainy December day when Garth had come to London to say he loved her and wanted her and it no longer mattered what she and her sister had done; and for another rainy day two days later, when they took the train to Canterbury, where no one knew them, and bought two gold wedding bands and found a magistrate to marry them. The narrow streets and stones of that ancient town were dark gray, streaked and dripping in the steady downpour, but Sabrina wore a red raincoat and rain hat and she bought Garth a red carnation for his lapel, and when their eyes met as each slipped a ring onto the other's finger and the magistrate said “husband and wife,” they saw in each other the sun, and spring, and hope.

“Thank you,” Sabrina said, her lips close to Garth's. “It's the most wonderful gift I could have imagined. And the most private; you were right about that. So when we're alone . . .”

The telephone rang, and abruptly she began to tremble. She knew Penny and Cliff were watching, but she could not stop. She could not hear a late night ring without
recalling in terrible detail the night last October when Brooks had called from London, crying, to say that Max Stuyvesant's yacht had gone down and everyone on board . . . everyone on board . . . everyone on board—