Authors: Tara McTiernan
"Phew," Lucie said and blew out a breath of relief. She turned to Kate. "Thanks for telling us all of this. It puts all the last pieces of the puzzle together, particularly why Bianca would take a chance on there being witnesses. She's smart and she's killed before - thanks, Chelsea, for telling us the whole story with that. Bianca knows that witnesses are a big problem, but when she didn't get what she wanted with Grant, it enraged her so much she didn't take enough precautions to make sure I was gone. She was probably planning to kill John and Chelsea, just not that night, but after Grant's rejection she wanted to even the score, so she decided it was time to confront Chelsea and John, let them have it. The whole thing confirms what I was thinking."
"What?" The three girls said at the same time, all leaning forward now.
Lucie said, "When I went to college, I kept switching my major. Couldn't decide on what I wanted to do. For awhile, I thought I might be a psychologist."
"You'd be great at that," Sharon said.
"Maybe. I prefer the culinary arts," Lucie said. "Anyway, one of the courses I took was Abnormal Psychology and my professor, who was brilliant and funny, was also a top expert on sociopaths. The lessons and reading he assigned on that subject were fascinating. So much so, I kept my notes. Well, after that horrible night at Bianca's, I was reminded of those lessons. I dug through my boxes in storage and found my notes. Everything he said describes Bianca exactly. Especially one thing in particular - when they're backed into a corner, sociopaths use their favorite manipulation: pity. It's a telltale sign, the pity play, because they know it's so effective. Who can blame the pathetic downtrodden person whimpering in front of you? Well, remember how she acted when we confronted her? That whole poor-me-I'm-just-an-innocent-wife bit? Trust me; I heard every horrible word she said earlier in that library. She is no innocent. That, along with everything else that matched, convinced me: Bianca's a sociopath."
Sharon and Chelsea murmured and shook their heads in shock, but Kate said, "That may be the official term, but what my dad calls them is 'mean dogs', someone who only bites. She may smile and wag her tail at you, but watch out. The problem is most people don't even know to watch out, can't protect themselves, like my little brother, David. Did I tell you about him?"
"No?" the girls chorused.
"David's special," Kate said. "Mentally disabled, but he's worked hard to overcome his challenges: he got a job, a place in a group home, was doing great when Grant and I moved down here. Little did we know that a mean dog was about to be move into the group home, a ex-drug-addict who hadn't been able to get a spot in the local group home for substance abusers, which has been overcrowded for years. He said he didn't 'mind' being in the home for the developmentally challenged, that he'd be at work most of the time anyway, and they gave him a private room. No one knew what he was doing to the other residents, the bullying. They only noticed more and more of them having problems, regressing, acting out."
"The staff assumed that they were all individual cases, never linked them together. That is, not until I went to the home after visiting my brother who finally told me what was happening after I spent a full week with him at the farm. David said his name and I wrote it down. When I made my complaint, the staff didn't believe me but said they would look into it. They admitted later that they were wrong. That was once they caught him at it, the whispered threats, the stealing, the hitting. No wonder David holed up in his room, wouldn't leave, even to go to work. Afraid to even use the shared bathroom."
"That's terrible!" Lucie said. "I'm so sorry." Chelsea and Sharon nodded and agreed.
"He's okay now, but David's definitely one of the reasons we're moving back," Kate said.
Sharon said, "Back to Vermont?"
Kate nodded. "Yes. It didn't work out for us here."
"Oh, no!" Chelsea said. "I'm going to miss you! Do you have to?"
"I know! Was it Bianca that made you want to move?" Sharon said. "She's in jail now? She can't hurt you anymore?"
"Well, she's in a psychiatric hospital now, not prison," Lucie reminded them.
Sharon shook her head at Lucie. "Same thing. It's maximum security. She's not going anywhere."
Lucie shrugged and nodded assent.
"I'm going to miss you, too," Kate said, smiling at Chelsea and then at all of them. "I'll miss all of you. I'll come back to visit, though. I promise. But our home's in Vermont, for better or worse. I need my family and they need me."
"That's so true," Lucie said, looking sad.
Sharon reached over and squeezed Lucie's shoulder. "Don't worry. He'll come around."
"What?" Chelsea asked.
Lucie shrugged, her lips tight, trying to hold back her emotions. "My father is barely speaking to me."
All the girls made sympathetic sounds. Then Chelsea said, "Parents can be hard. My mom and I never really got along. Honestly, I never tried. But lately I have been and, it's crazy, even after all these years, but I think we're becoming friends?"
"But?" Sharon said, wrinkling her forehead. "I thought... your mother-"
"That wasn't my mother. I was faking."
"I told you!" Lucie crowed to Sharon.
"I did call her though, I felt guilty," Chelsea said and seeing Kate's confused expression, explained what had happened after Kate left that night at O'Malley's, their argument about Bianca and her effort to extricate herself from the conversation. She said finally, "Then, stupid idiot that I was, I messaged John to meet me after."
Lucie shook her head. "You could never learn when it came to him, huh?"
"No," Chelsea said, but then straightened. "Well, I have now. You know he's still calling me? Even offered to buy me a townhouse. I told him where he could stick it."
Sharon put her hands together and clapped. "Awesome! It's about time."
Chelsea lifted her chin at Sharon and pointedly looked at Sharon's left hand. "I just wanted what you have. A ring, a wedding to plan, love."
Sharon stopped clapping and stretched out her hand to look at her engagement ring. "You know, I still can't believe it. The evidence is right here on my finger: Dean wants to marry me, the girl with the biggest chip ever on her shoulder when it comes to love. The one who was happy alone at home with her cat and a cup of tea."
"Well, maybe that's the answer," Chelsea said. "Being happy on your own. I know I never was and, now, that's how I've ended up. I'm not even dating anyone."
Kate reached over and put her hand on Chelsea's arm, "Don't worry-"
The rest of them, even Chelsea, chorused the rest of the now well-known refrain, "You'll meet your Prince Charming?"
Kate laughed loudly at herself and said, "I'm that bad, huh? Well, it's true! And I'm sticking by it!"
Then they all laughed and raised their glasses in a toast to love and life and second chances, the sea breeze blowing gently over them and bringing with it the ting-tanging of halyards against the masts of the boats in the marina below, the bright sound making the moment seem to shimmer with clarity and freshness, everything new again.
Strawberry Daiquiri
Chelsea unlocked the door to her apartment, picked up her small bag of groceries and the potted pink fairy-rose plant that she hadn't been able to resist in the grocery store's florist department, and walked into her apartment. She put away the groceries and placed the plant on the dining room table with a flourish before turning to survey the living space. It stared back, bland and tired-looking as usual. She had never gotten around to decorating while she was living large with John's credit card, had been more caught up with decorating herself for his pleasure. She owned more lingerie now than she would ever need.
Thinking of the lingerie packed away in drawers along with her love life, her lip quivered before she controlled it. She would stop feeling sorry for herself. She would stop thinking that a man was the answer to every problem. It was harder tonight, though, after seeing Sharon's emerald-cut diamond engagement ring sparkling away on her finger. Sharon didn't even have the decency to show off, was ridiculously off-hand and casual about it as far as Chelsea was concerned.
Glowing dreams of her wedding day still haunted Chelsea, fantasies of a big Cinderella-like wedding gown and a horse-drawn carriage taking her to the church and orchids everywhere. Her unruly heart continued to yearn to be swept away - ripped apart and then made whole by love - knights in white satin and lights in the turrets and a cry of aching passion piercing the inky night. She wanted something so big that it would be a choice of ruin or rapture, never the humdrum middle for her. Yet it continued to elude Chelsea - even with John, whose love had been an illusion.
She sighed, the air shuddering out with sadness as it all hit her again. At least it has been a good cocktail hour with the girls at The Lobster Pot. It had helped to talk about Bianca and finally feel as if things made sense. Ever since that terrible night two months ago, it was as if the world had been turned upside down and shaken, knocking every one of her bone-deep beliefs loose. Chelsea rarely slept through the night since, startled awake by a gun pointing at her, Bianca's cold eyes over the barrel, a horrible smile twisting her lips. At least the echo of John's cruel words had left Chelsea's head at last, but in their absence there was a new hollowness to every day.
Sitting down at her laptop to turn it on and check her email, hoping for something to distract her, her cell rang. She checked it, dreading John, but it was her friend Amanda, an admin at TMB she used to go out with all the time until Amanda got a boyfriend a year ago and lost interest in the bar scene to Chelsea's annoyed frustration.
"Hey Amanda! What's up?"
"What's up? What's up with
you
? You barely answer my texts anymore!"
"Yeah, I know. I've been so tired lately - I have to commute to the city now. Back at Crescent House, as an admin?"
"I just don't get it. Why do you keep doing it? You're, like, a natural with computers. You should have a career in that, that's where the money is. Not admin."
"You always say that," Chelsea said, laughing a little. She had forgotten Amanda's obsession with Chelsea's knack for computers. When they worked together, Amanda would call Chelsea when she had a problem with her computer, not the help desk.
"I say it because it's true! You even know programming. Like, you're good at it! I could never do that."
"Ah, it's easy."
"For you! You're not ever going to listen to me, are you? Well, anyway, you want to go out tonight? There's this new bar in Stamford, Gotham? It's supposed to be really hot - have you been there?"
"Wait, you want to go out? What about Zach?"
"Oh, Zach. We broke up."
"I'm sorry? That sucks!"
"For him, maybe. I was ready to be single again, tired of staying home every night. I'm too young for all that boring homebody stuff. Plus, he wanted to get married and I'm so not ready."
Chelsea shook her head. Amanda had just thrown away what Chelsea wanted most. Amanda had met Zach, who was gorgeous and successful and madly in love with her, the kind of guy who knew how to be romantic with impromptu getaways, loving notes hidden around the apartment, and surprise picnics on beautiful evenings. Chelsea said, "I can't believe it. You two seemed so perfect for each other."
"Yeah...no...I don't want to think about it. So, are you in or are you in? I know you, you love the bar scene!"
"Um," Chelsea said, hesitating. Did she love it still? Did she want to start all over again, the posing and the hoping and the flirting that often went nowhere? In that moment she knew, not only what she didn't want, but what she did. It was a whole new direction that flared bright in her imagination, making her feel a flutter of energy for the first time in months. "You know, thanks for inviting me, but...I'm going to pass. I've got some stuff to do at home tonight."