The Sisters Weiss by Naomi Ragen

Author:Naomi Ragen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

23

When she opened her eyes, the living room was dark, shadows playing tricks on her mind as they floated around her, the whispered words and sights of the past flitting through her like fireflies. She made herself a light supper and sat alone in the kitchen eating without appetite. Hannah hadn’t said exactly when she was bringing Rivka over, but she might as well get the room ready, she thought, putting her dishes in the sink, suddenly filled with a new energy.

She took freshly ironed linens out of the closet, making up the bed, the scent of the lavender water the maid put in the iron rising to her nostrils as she stretched over the bed, smoothing down the sheet and duvet.

Provence. Their honeymoon. The lavender fields of the high plateau in Sault at the base of Mont Ventoux. That photo he’d taken of her standing there, knee deep in purple blooms. Afterward, hiding from view, making love, their skin drenched in the intoxicating scent.

She plumped up the pillows, looking at the lavender walls of her daughter’s old bedroom, smiling. Nine months later, Hannah had been born. The color had been their private joke as they put together her nursery. No matter how many times they’d repainted it, they never changed the hue.

She took some flowers from the living room, transferring them into small crystal vases, which she filled with fresh water and then arranged on the dresser. On the nightstand, she placed a selection of magazines and books she hoped might interest her niece.

As an afterthought, she went into her own bedroom, opening the closet and reaching toward the top shelf. She took down a small yellowing box. The brittle tissue paper flaked in her hands as she unwrapped the silver-backed comb and matching brush.

Heathrow, about to board the plane back to New York, while Henry was off to another assignment. He handed her the box. “Start looking for an apartment for us in New York. And don’t use these until I get there,” he’d whispered tenderly, smoothing back her hair with his hand.

She brought the brush to her temple, running it through her hair, just as he used to. Tears stung her eyes. She took the set into the guest room, laying it down on the silver tray of the antique vanity.

It was time to share it, to let it live again.

For years, she’d guarded her home and her privacy with the ferocity of a jungle animal, rejecting all well-meaning advice that she be practical and sell (apartments on Park and Seventy-third were worth a small fortune), or at least find someone with whom she could share it. Over the years, there had been no shortage of men eager to apply for that position. But even though she’d tried, it just never felt right.

This was her home, hers and Henry’s. She’d sealed it off in the vain hope of keeping what was left of their life together from seeping out and evaporating. It was her bulwark against the

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