It was an old conversation but framed in a different way. Margot had money. Noelle didn’t know exactly how much and she didn’t care. Just like she didn’t care about the details of the inheritance account, it was simply enough to know Margot had financial security. Her sister had given up her own childhood to make Noelle comfortable when their parents disappeared for the last time. Noelle was nine. Margot was nineteen. When the disappearance ended with Hugo and Michelle Palmer being found dead on some abandoned farm in the middle of Iowa, the girls breathed a sigh of relief. Not because they were rid of their parents, but because they finally knew where they stood. Alone.
Margot dropped out of college and took over running the Jamaican nightclub, taking care of Noelle every day except for the half a dozen times each year she left the country to check on the club and other businesses she had going. Other than during those disappearances, when Margot left Noelle with a trusted friend of their mother, Margot was there to make her meals, help with homework and provide every material thing they needed. Margot had sacrificed to get the money and financial freedom she had now. But that was not what Noelle wanted for herself. Her small happiness was more important to her than any pair of thousand-dollar shoes or meals that cost a hundred dollars a plate.
The waiter came back to take away empty dishes and bring their entrees, but Noelle didn’t pick up her fork.
“I already told you, Margot, I like my life the way it is. When I’m not at the office, I don’t have to worry about anything there unless I feel like it. Most of the lawyers work through lunch and miss dinner with their families and spend entire weekends at the office instead of being with the people they love. I don’t want that.”
“Even if I pay for the LSATs and law school for you?”
That was a new one. Margot had offered to pay for the LSATs before but never for law school. Noelle took her napkin out of her lap and lay it across the table. Carefully, she rested her hands on either side of her plate and drew a calming breath.
“I don’t want to sound ungrateful about this, Margot. But if you don’t stop harping on this law school thing, I swear to God I’m going to walk out of here and take the bus back to my car.”
Margot sighed and sat back in her chair. “Calm down. I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just—”
“I know what you’re just trying to do, Margot. But we’re not our parents. I’m not completely broke and reliant on a man who takes chances with my life. You’re not a drug-addicted gambler who can’t tell a trap from a score.” She swallowed the sudden tears that threatened the back of her throat. “And we’re not kids anymore and I can make my own decisions about the kind of life that I want.” Noelle took another breath and truly tried to calm herself down. Their parents had done a number on them both, especially Margot, who thought she had to fix everything in Noelle’s life. Hell, she’d wanted to fix her anger at Eric for jilting her by hiring someone to break his legs.
For a moment, it looked like Margot’s carefully constructed facade was going to crack, like she was finally listening to what Noelle was saying and actually understood. But then she picked up her fork and knife as if Noelle hadn’t spoken.
“Fine,” she said. “We’ll let this conversation go for now. Just know that I love you.” Margot swallowed loudly. “And I only want the best for you.”
“I know.” Noelle hooked her bottom lip between her teeth. That was what made it so hard for her to be truly angry at her sister. She did it all out of love and fear that they would both slide to where their parents had been. No matter what Noelle said or did, she couldn’t convince Margot they were okay. She blew out a breath and reached for her fork.
“It’s okay, Mags. Just eat your food before it gets cold.”
Margot gave her a smile that was only a painful stretch of teeth. But it was better than nothing. Noelle drank some of her fruit juice and tried to settle the knots in her stomach. It didn’t quite work, but it was a start.
“I don’t know how you actually grew up in this family and never learned how to cook.” Alice Diallo turned around at the massive kitchen island and passed Lex the platter of fried dumplings she’d made that afternoon.
The entire house buzzed with the presence of thirteen Diallo children, their parents, partners and a few close friends. Dinner was due to start in less than fifteen minutes. Everyone was there and accounted for, the large house humming with music and conversation, laughter from the big verandah, the living room and the dining room. Lex had been drafted to help set the table since he didn’t cook.
“I’m a decent-enough cook,” he told his sister as he left the kitchen, “I just don’t want to cook for your greedy asses. You might get used to it and ask me to do it on the regular.” His sister made a rude noise.
Lex placed the covered platter in the middle of the table along with all the other prepared dishes. Unlike official, quarterly family dinners when their mother either cooked or had the meal catered, this time each of the Diallo children brought a dish to share. Lex brought sorrel from his backyard, a potent mixture he planted, harvested and made himself that had plenty of white rum and was not fit for the children’s consumption. There was already wine, but Lex put the sorrel—stored in Red Label bottles—in champagne buckets on both sides of the table.
“It’s almost time to eat!” he called out. He’d barely finished yelling when his siblings started flooding into the room.
But he noticed that his parents weren’t among them. “Hey, where are Mama and Daddy?”
“You know better than to ask that question,” Kingsley said, sitting next to their youngest sibling, Elia.
Wolfe, the second oldest, gave Lex a laughing look. “Probably in their room. I doubt you want to go find them. They’ll come down when they’re ready.”
But Alice poked him in the side with a naughty grin. “Go get them. Tell them Elia better be the last one. We don’t need another kid running around here.”
“Hey! I’m not a kid.” Elia piped up. “I’ll be eighteen in, like, three weeks.”
“Oh wow...so mature.”
The room exploded in laughter before Lex could see who’d spoken. Most of the seats were already taken. It didn’t seem right for his parents not to be there.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
“Don’t say we didn’t warn you!” Wolfe called out as Lex walked away.
But he knew they weren’t in their room. He’d seen them in the den earlier after giving them their unofficial anniversary present: a digital picture frame with all the kids’ photos preloaded. Upstairs, as he walked closer to the den, he heard their voices, low and intimate. He paused. Maybe Wolfe was right. But the den’s door wasn’t closed. Even in their own house, they wouldn’t fool around with the door wide open for anyone to walk in and see.
“This is really something,” his father was saying.
“Sometimes I can’t believe it’s the same boy.” His mother’s voice was muffled and soft.
When Lex got close enough, he saw them standing near his father’s desk looking at the pictures scrolling by in the digital frame. His mother was resting her head against her husband’s chest.
It was a running joke among the Diallo children that their parents were always screwing like rabbits, that it was a lucky thing they’d only ended up with thirteen kids instead of thirty. Lex started to turn around and leave them to their privacy, but they shifted apart and his mother called out.
“Alexander?”
He turned back toward the den, his fingers resting