Authors: Tara McTiernan
Everything came to a head the day after Lucie's accident when Erin dropped by the apartment. Lucie had been in enormous pain that day, feeling as if her hip was comprised of broken shards of glass that pierced her with every step. Ryan had just left for work, pushed out the door by Lucie who insisted that at least one of them had to hold down a job. After swinging herself across the living room on her crutches, she dropped gently as she could onto the couch. It didn't matter: the shards dug into her hip, making tears well in Lucie's eyes. She let herself whine a little now that she didn't have to worry about Ryan hearing her.
The doorbell rang just as the pain was easing off. Another visitor or a delivery, probably. It was wonderful, the flowers and the cards and the kindness of friends. It was also exhausting. Lucie sighed heavily and launched herself up again and across the room as the bell rang a second time.
"Coming!" Lucie called. She stopped in front of the door and looked through the peephole. It was Erin, looking glum.
Lucie opened the door. "Hey there, partner!"
"Hey," Erin said mournfully and slumping more. "Look at you. Crutches suck."
"Oh, it's not so bad. Thanks for stopping by and visiting me. Come in."
"Okay. Here," Erin said, handing Lucie a bright yellow envelope and then walking into the apartment and falling dramatically into one of the armchairs in the living room.
"That's sweet. Thanks," Lucie said, trying to hold the envelope without crushing it as she crossed back to the couch on her crutches. She clenched her teeth as she inched down, pain stabbing again. After taking a breath, Lucie opened the card. It was a get-well card and inside Erin had written "hurry up and get better! Love, Erin" under the printed greeting.
Lucie looked up at Erin. "I'll try," she said, trying to smile and only half-succeeding.
"You have to!" Erin wailed. "What are we going to do? We're ruined! It's over. We're done."
"Stop it. Don't say that. It's not over until we quit."
Erin's eyebrows came together and she leaned forward. "You stop it! You're always...so fake and smiley! We're ruined. Why don't you just admit it? Why do you have to act all holier than thou all the time?"
"What? I'm not fake? I'm just trying to be positive!" Lucie said, feeling as if she'd been slapped out of the blue.
"Positive-schmositive. It's all part of your good girl thing. It's why Flo and Dad worship you. They lap that up. And you know it."
"No. And they do not worship me. I wish!"
"Stop with the act. You know they do. Why would they give you all this money, help you like they do if they didn't? If I was more like you, all fake, they'd do it for me too. Then I'd have my own business and I wouldn't have to come crawling to you."
"Is that really what you think? And crawling to me? I can't believe you're saying this," Lucie said, feeling a whirlwind of fury swirling up inside of her, remembering all the times she had reached out a helping hand to her stepsister, how many times she'd bitten her tongue over the last three months as they worked together and Erin made mistake after mistake, all the while nursing her rotten poor-me attitude. Lucie leaned forward, wincing from the renewed stabbing pain in her hip. "You know what? There is a reason they won't help you, no one will. And it's not what you think. You want to know the real reason?"
"Yeah? What? What's the real reason?" Erin said, narrowing her eyes, her lips tightening.
"It's because of your shitty attitude. It's always what's wrong, what's terrible. Oh, woe is me! The world is coming to an end! And the way you talk to our clients! It's amazing! You sit there and point out every problem or you whine to them about whatever went wrong for you that day. As if they care! As if they want to hear that crap!"
Erin shook her head, her face reddening. "They do? They want to talk about real stuff?"
"No, they don't, Erin. In fact, many of them complained to me about you, back before they understood you were my sister. Well, back when we actually had clients."
"Are you blaming me for all the clients we lost? That's not my fault!"
"No, I'm blaming you for constantly being negative. And I'm telling you, if you don't want to work with me anymore be my guest," Lucie said, throwing her hands up. There, she'd said it.
Erin jerked back, eyes widening. "No! No! I'm not saying that!"
"Well, something's got to change. You can't go on like this. Not with me. And, honestly, your bad attitude is your biggest handicap. Because you can do things, do them well. I've seen you. And you're smart. But you get in your own way."
Erin looked down at her hands resting on her lap and was silent for a moment. Finally, she said, "Really?"
"Really."
"I'm sorry," Erin said in a soft voice, looking back up at Lucie. "Do you hate me?"
"Of course not. I love you. You crazy nut. Come here," Lucie said, and bore the pain as Erin clumsily stumbled over, fell on the couch beside her, and grabbed Lucie in a tight bear hug.
And, from that moment on, Erin made a valiant effort to be positive, sometimes to a comic effect, and it had made all the difference. There had been no complaints from the new clients and Erin had actually started bringing in clients on her own.
Now, as she and Erin finished loading the food into the tray racks in the van, she appreciated Erin's cheerful excitement all the more. Lucie had to admit it. She was nervous. This wasn't just any dinner party, it was her big chance to impress Chelsea's old boss, Edie, and at the end of the meal, when Bianca would call Lucie out to take a bow and accept their applause, Lucie would hand her book proposal to Edie and cross her fingers.
Of course, the odds were stacked in her favor. Not only was Chelsea a good friend of Edie's who had already been raving about Lucie while also helping her put together the book proposal, the menu was, with the exception of the bouillabaisse, comprised entirely of Edie's favorite French dishes. After the soup course, there would be watercress and roasted red beet salad with a delicate lemon vinaigrette followed by crisp roasted duck breasts with pomegranate sauce, potato gratin, and lightly steamed and sauced haricort vert. The grand finale would be Lucie's luscious creme brulee with fresh seasonal berries.
Lucie knew it would be spectacular; she had slaved over each dish, making sure everything was perfect. If only Sharon would be there to enjoy the meal along with everyone else. If only Sharon could be more comfortable with Bianca. When Sharon had called to tell Lucie, right after she'd called Bianca with her regrets three days ago, she'd come clean right away.
"I just can't take Bianca teasing me and Dean. And she would," Sharon said. "She'd totally lord it over us, that she knew all along that we'd be a couple. Especially after having to cancel on the guy she'd set me up with, which has got to be a pain for her. It's just easier to say I've got the flu."
Lucie said, "But I was so counting on you being there. Moral support, you know?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't think you needed me to be there. But you'll be fine? You're a pro at this. And you've got Chelsea giving the old rah-rah. But...I can suddenly get better if you want? I don't want to let you down."
"No, don't worry. I was just excited about having you there. And I still don't understand the whole Bianca thing. She's really a nice person - look what she's doing for me! This is huge. If I can impress Edie and get her on my side, I might actually have a cookbook. And who knows where it will lead? It could be the beginning of Lucie Scott Omnimedia!"
"It will be. I'm sure of it."
Lucie sighed and then gave her head a little shake, carrying a tray filled with the prepared ingredients for the salads that she would assemble on-site. Sharon had meant it when she said that she was certain of Lucie's future success, was one of the most staunchly supportive friends she'd ever had and the reason she didn't have a Molly-problem any longer. Lucie would miss her tonight.
The tray racks in the van full and secured, Lucie and Erin did one last review of their event checklist to make sure everything was there, including the tin foil "wings" Erin had suggested for roasting the marinated duck breasts, duck being a fatty bird that tended to crackle and splatter in an oven.
"That was a brilliant idea, Erin. What would I do without you?" Lucie said, patting the tray that contained the pre-formed "wings" that Erin had fashioned that morning which would protect the oven but allow the oven's heat to crisp the skin perfectly.
Erin twisted her neck and shrugged, smiling shyly. "No big deal. Are you sure you don't need me to come and help?"
"No, it'll be easy. Only eight tonight and it's all plated. Thanks, though."
"Okay, I admit it, I have selfish reasons. I'm dying to see Bianca's house. I mean, the kitchen alone sounds amazing!"
"Actually, it sounds tragic - all that fabulous expensive stuff, even my fantasy-come-true stainless steel Wolf range, and she doesn't even cook!" Lucie said and, hearing a car coming around the corner, stepped out of the way with her clipboard.
Erin craned her neck to see who it was and then blanched, ducking. "Uh, oh. Dad."
Lucie looked around. Donald Scott was pulling into a parking spot in his dark blue Mercedes sedan. What was he doing here? She tried to think, but her mind simply scrambled wildly. Before she knew it, he was out of the car and striding towards them.
"Erin," her father said as he approached. "What are you doing here?"
"Just helping!" Erin squeaked, cringing a little, her earlier confidence disappearing into thin air.
"Helping? Why? Lucie? Didn't you hire someone yet?"
Seeing Erin undergo such a sudden and demeaning transformation aggravated Lucie. Why? Why did he have to push Erin down? Her sister needed a helping hand, not a crushing fist. Lucie raised her head and looked at her father levelly. "I did hire someone. You're looking at her."
"Erin? Are you kidding me? What did I tell you? No, you cannot hire your sister."
"It's already done. And by the way, she's great, Dad. In fact, she's fantastic. She's bringing in new clients every day."
Her father blinked and shook his head. "I don't really care. I've already given you instructions about this. No. Erin? You're done. Hang up that apron and go home. I need to talk to Lucie. I'll deal with you later."
Erin started to turn away, red-faced and shaking. Lucie's hand shot out and grabbed her sister's arm, pulling her back. Erin turned around, but her head was down. Lucie said, "No. She works for me. You don't have the right to fire her."
"I do if you're taking my money to run this business," her father said, his eyes flashing with challenge.
"Why, Dad? What's wrong with hiring Erin?"
Donald Scott put up his fist and started counting off the reasons using his fingers. "One, she has never repaid even one of our loans. She owes us over fifty thousand dollars and I doubt we'll ever see a penny of it. Two, no matter what advice we've given her over the years, she consistently ignores it. Three-"
"Well, she took my advice," Lucie said. "You should see the turnaround she's made. I can't-"
"I was speaking. Don't interrupt me. Three, she and her mother have been fighting for the last year. Your hiring Erin is taking sides against Flo. After all Flo has done for you! Do you know it was her idea to back your venture? Honestly, I was reluctant at first. It was Flo who convinced me. And now you do this. Go behind our backs, against our wishes, when we're the ones helping you. What kind of payback is that? Is that what a good daughter does?"
Lucie felt a cold hard anger steel her. So her father had to be convinced to help her. Was it that difficult for him to have faith in his own daughter? And now to summarily reject Erin, never giving her another chance, not ever? She loved her father, but she didn't want his reluctant help with all its unfair rules and expectations anymore. "I'm sorry I've disappointed you, Dad. I guess I'm just not worthy of your support. Please withdraw it. I'll figure out how to make this business work on my own."