It offered lovely light, plenty of space, and now had a charming little powder room.

As she liked to say, CiCi was a little bit psychic. She’d imagined Simone working in that space, staying in the rambling house until she found her place.

CiCi, a little bit psychic, had no doubt where that place was, but the girl had to find it for herself.

Meanwhile, whenever Simone came back to Maine, she always came back to CiCi.

Despite two artistic temperaments, they lived together easily. Each had their own work and their own habits, and they might go for days barely see ing each other. Or they might spend hours sitting together on the patio, biking into the village, walking the narrow strip of sand by the water, or just sitting on the coastline rocks in comfortable silence.

After Simone returned from the west, they spent hours with CiCi looking through Simone’s photos and sketches. CiCi borrowed a couple of the photos—a street fair in Santa Fe, a stark shot of buttes in Canyon de Chelly—to use in her own work.

When Ward came to visit, CiCi slipped away to light candles and incense and meditate, pleased father and daughter were making an effort to reconcile.

For ten days, while the summer people thronged the island, they lived happily enough in their own world, with their art, the water, and cocktails at sunset.

Then the storm came.

Natalie whirled into the house like a force of nature. CiCi, still on her first cup of coffee (she still preferred seeing a sunrise as the last thing before bed instead of the first out of it), blinked owlishly.

“Hi, honey. What flew up your ass?”

“Where is she?”

“I’d offer you coffee, but you seem pretty hyped already. Why don’t you sit down, catch your breath, my cutie?”

“I don’t want to sit down. Simone! Goddamn it!” She shouted, raging as she stormed through the house, swirling negative energy CiCi already accepted she’d have to white sage away. “Is she upstairs?”

“I wouldn’t know,” CiCi said coolly. “I just got up. And while I’m all for self-expression, you’re going to want to watch your tone with me.”

“I’m sick of it, sick of all of it. She can do whatever she wants, whenever she wants, and you’re just fine with it. I work my butt off, I graduate in the top five percent of my class—top five—and the two of you can hardly be bothered to show up.”

Sincerely stunned, CiCi lowered her coffee mug. “Have you lost your mind? We were both there, with fucking bells on, young lady. And I can’t believe you just pissed me into saying ‘young lady.’ I sounded like my mother! Simone worked weeks on your gift, and—”

“Simone, Simone, Si-fucking-mone.”

“Now you’re the X-rated Jan Brady. Get a grip, Natalie.”

“What’s going on?” Simone came in, in a fast trot. “I could hear you yelling all the way up in my studio.”

“Your studio. Yours, your, you!” Natalie whirled, shoved Simone three steps back.

“Hold it!” Stepping forward, CiCi snapped out the order. “There will be no physical violence in my house. Shouting, foul language, fine, but no physical violence. Don’t cross my lines.”

“What the hell, Natalie?” Shifting, Simone laid a hand on CiCi’s shoulder.

“Look at you! Always the two of you.” Face bright pink with fury, blue eyes molten with it, Natalie jabbed out with a finger from each hand. “I’m sick of that, too. It’s not right, it’s not fair that you love her more than me.”

“First, there’s no ‘fair’ about love. And second, I love you just as much, even when you’re being a crazy person. In fact, I might love you more when you’re being a crazy person. It’s an interesting change of pace.”

“Just stop it.” Tears spurted, hot with rage. “It’s always been her. She’s always been your favorite.”

“If you’re going to accuse me of things, be specific, because I can’t remember ever slighting you.”

“You didn’t convert an attic for me.”

Close to fed up, CiCi gulped down coffee. It didn’t help. “Did you want me to?”

“That’s not the point!”

“It is the goddamn point. I didn’t take Simone to D.C. after her high school graduation and arrange for tours of Congress because she didn’t want me to. You did, so I did. Get over yourself.”

“I can’t even come out here anymore because she lives here.”

“That’s on you, and it sure looks like you’re here now. And one more thing before I trade this coffee in for the Bloody Mary I now crave, Simone can and will live here as long as she wants. It’s not up to you who lives in my fucking house. If you wanted to move in, you’d be welcome, but it’s not what you want.”

CiCi went to the refrigerator. “Anybody else want a Bloody Mary?”

“As a matter of fact,” Simone began.

“There it is.” Natalie sneered. “Just like Mom says. Two peas in a snarky pod.”

“So what?” Simone threw up her hands. “So we have things in common. You and Mom have things in common. So what?”

“You have no respect for my mother.”

“Our mother, Nat the Brat, and I certainly do.”

“Bull. You barely spend any time with her. You didn’t even bother to spend any with her on Mother’s Day.”

“I was in New Mexico, for God’s sake, Nat. I called her, I sent flowers.”

Natalie’s eyes, the same searing blue as their mother’s, burned. “Do you think that means anything? Clicking on some flowers on the Internet?”

Simone angled her head. “You should tell Mom and Dad that, since that’s what they’ve done for every one of my openings.”

“That’s different, and don’t try to shift the blame. You don’t care about her, or any of us, whatever you’ve convinced Dad to think. They’ve been arguing because of you. Because of you, Harry and I had a terrible fight on the night of our engagement party.”

“Jesus Christ. Don’t spare the vodka,” Simone told CiCi.

“Believe me.”

“The two of you,” Natalie spat out. “All smug out here in your alternate reality. Well, I live in the real world. A world you barged into, uninvited, looking like something that just stumbled off the trail. But you managed to play up to Harry and Dad, didn’t you, playing the victim.”

“I didn’t play up to anyone, or play anything. Maybe if you hadn’t lied to both of them about contacting me, you wouldn’t have had a problem.”

“I didn’t want you there!”

It ripped, ripped a jagged hole in Simone even though she already knew. “Clearly. But you weren’t honest about it, and that’s not on me.”

“You’re selfish, hateful, and don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“I might be selfish by your gauge, but I don’t have a lot of hate. And if I didn’t care about anyone, I wouldn’t have stopped off at Mom’s and Dad’s and ended up embarrassing both of us. You, on the other hand, you nasty little bitch, are a liar and a coward, and in your real world you don’t take responsibility for being either. Fuck that, Natalie, and you along with it. I’m not going to be your punching bag or Mom’s.”

Though her heart thudded, and her hands wanted to shake, Simone picked up the drink CiCi had set on the counter, lifted it in a nasty toasting gesture. “Enjoy your version of reality, Nat. I’ll stick with mine.”

Tears, fired by rage, fumed in Natalie’s eyes. “You disgust me. Do you know that?”

“I’m fairly astute, so yeah, I picked up on that.”

“Okay, girls.” CiCi stepped in. “That’s enough now.”

“You always take her side, don’t you?”

Her own heart aching, CiCi forced herself to speak calm and clear. “I’ve been working hard over here not to take any side, but you’re pushing it, Natalie. Now, you’ve blown off considerable steam, so—”

“I don’t mean anything to either of you. You’ve turned her against me, too,” she shouted at Simone. “I hate you. You’re welcome to each other.”

She turned to storm out, and blind and bitter, shoved the statue of Emergence from the stand CiCi had had made for it. Even as Simone cried out in grief, it fell, smashed to the floor. The lovely, serene face, that birth of joy, the face of a lost friend, broke into four pieces.

“Oh God, oh God.” The sound, the sight of the destruction slapped Natalie’s rage into horrified shock. “I’m sorry. Oh, Simone, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You get out.” Simone could barely whisper the words over the wound so deep it screamed inside her. She managed to put the drink in her hand down before she heaved it, because she knew if she struck out, she might never stop.

“Simone, CiCi, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t—”

As Natalie stepped forward, hand out, Simone’s head snapped up. “Don’t come near me. Don’t. Get out. Get out!” With rage and grief choking her, Simone rushed out the back doors before she used fists instead of words.

Sobbing, Natalie covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. CiCi, I didn’t mean to.”