A Sister Would Know

Grant took her check, holding it between his thumb and forefinger gingerly, as if it were something he’d rather not touch.

“That’s one of the things I have against your sister.”

CHAPTER THREE

HELENA’S APARTMENT WAS A SHOCK. Amalie stood with her back to the closed door—Grant Thorlow’s final words still echoing in her ears—and surveyed the scene.

“Kind of weird, isn’t it?” Davin said. He’d turned on the television and was manually searching the channels. “I mean, there’s nothing here. Not even a lamp.”

It was true; the only illumination came from a bare bulb in the center of the ceiling. An old sofa—the kind you might see discarded at the side of a curb—was against the long wall of the living room. Opposite was a small TV, sitting directly on the stained, tan carpet.

“I guess Helena didn’t have much money.” Or maybe she hadn’t planned on staying very long.

Amalie set down her purse, then followed the short hallway to the right. Here was the bathroom and two bedrooms. The first was empty; the second was obviously Helena’s. On the floor was an old mattress, the bedding scattered and wrinkled.

An old oak dresser stood in the corner, next to the open doors of a closet. Eager to find something, anything, that would connect this place with the fastidious sister she remembered, Amalie opened the drawers of the bureau, but here, too, all was a jumble.

Automatically, she started sorting and folding, only pausing when the lush wool of one sweater had her peeking at the label. Cashmere, sure enough, from a designer Amalie had seen advertised in fashion magazines.

Intrigued, Amalie checked over the rest of the clothing. Interspersed with regular, department store items, the kind she normally bought for herself, she found a couple more treasures—a beautiful hand-knit sweater, some silk lingerie.

In the closet, the same dichotomy was evident. Mixed in with a beautiful Anne Klein suit and butter-soft leather pants were no-brand jeans and cotton T-shirts.

Probably the less-expensive items had been purchased here in Revelstoke, but it was the high-end clothing that most puzzled Amalie. Presumably, money had once not been a problem for her sister—an hypothesis borne out by the contents of the carved wooden box that sat on top of the bureau. Once opened, it released a delicate scent of sandal-wood and light chimes played “My Favorite Things,” from The Sound of Music.

Amalie smiled, remembering the first time she’d watched the musical with her sister, on an outing to the theater with some friends. Their mother had been livid when she found out. Strictly speaking, dancing was forbidden by their church, and the sight of her daughters whirling and singing around the living room had prompted her to ground them for an extended period.

Their parents’ religious doctrines had been such a confining presence in their lives. Amalie knew that Helena in particular had resented it. She herself, however, still found them a comfort, although in her heart she took significantly more moderate views from those of her parents and their minister.

Inside the carved box were little velvet bags. Amalie selected one and pulled the silk cord gently. Out tumbled a gold ring with a sapphire as big as her thumbnail. Gasping, Amalie put it back in the bag, then checked another.

This time she found a short gold chain strung with diamonds. Where had Helena found the money for this jewelry? Or had they been gifts…?

Amalie shut the lid on the ornate box and was about to turn away, when she noticed a small indentation next to a carved rose at the bottom of the case. She picked the box up and worked the nail of her index finger into the hollow. A small drawer sprang out from the bottom. Inside was a pouch of dried grass and several sheets of thin white paper.

Amalie didn’t have to smell the one rolled cigarette to know what she’d found.

She pulled the drawer out from the case and carried it to the bathroom. One flush, and the marijuana was gone. The papers she threw in the trash.

Amalie returned to the bedroom, pushed the drawer back into the box, then shoved the whole thing underneath a pile of Helena’s lingerie.

As far as she knew, Helena had never used drugs when she’d lived on her own in Toronto. And certainly not when she was still at home with their parents. Alcohol and tobacco had been major taboos. Drugs were unthinkable.

So when had Helena changed, and why hadn’t Amalie sensed the changes from the occasional letters and phone calls that had tenuously linked them over the years?

Amalie closed the bedroom door behind her and went to check on Davin, who remained transfixed in front of the television.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his eyes not leaving the screen.

An open doorway to the left gave access to a small galley kitchen. She was relieved to see the counters and stovetop were clean. Beside the fridge, though, stacks of empty beer and wine bottles brought back Mrs. Eitelbach’s admonishment: “No parties. No loud music.”

After toeing a case of Kootenay Mountain Ale out of the way first, Amalie opened the fridge, then checked the cupboards. Not much to choose from, except boxes of macaroni and cheese.

Amalie smiled. She’d forgotten how Helena had loved these. Just like Davin.

She pulled out a package, then put water on to boil. There was milk in the fridge, but it had gone bad. She would have to mix the dried cheese sauce with water and a little margarine. First thing tomorrow she’d go shopping.

Amalie set the table, picturing yet more dollars flying out from her savings account. This trip was going to cost her much more than she’d expected, putting her goal of owning a house even further into the future.

And yet she couldn’t regret having come. Despite all the disturbing reports she was getting about her sister. Or maybe because of them.

THE NEXT DAY Amalie cleaned the apartment and stocked the cupboards and refrigerator with enough food to last a couple of weeks. She stopped at the local hardware store to pick up a few items, including a foam mattress for Davin’s sleeping bag.

A phone call to her parents, after dinner, confirmed their opinion about this trip.

“You’re wasting your time and money,” her father said, on the upstairs extension.

“And what about your job and Davin’s education?” her mother asked.

“I’ve taken a leave of absence from the hospital and I talked with Davin’s teacher before we left. I’m going to make sure he keeps up with the curriculum.” The sound of shattering glass had her twisting toward the kitchen counter. Davin had been drying the dishes and a bowl had slipped from his fingers to the floor.

She covered the mouthpiece. “That’s okay, hon. I’ll clean it up later. Why don’t you go in the living room. It’s almost time for your program.”

Back on the phone, her parents were wondering how long they’d hold her job at the hospital with the way she was behaving.

“Frankly, I don’t even care right now. You have no idea how Helena was living here, Mom. She had barely anything in her apartment.” Except drugs and beer.

It still didn’t make sense to Amalie. At twenty-nine, she’d assumed her sister had been making something of her life. Although she’d never given specifics, Helena’s letters had hinted at jobs, friends, a normal existence.

“Look, Mom, Dad, I’ve got to go. Davin needs my help. I’ll call back in a few days and tell you what’s happening.”

She hung up from the duty call with relief, then went to the cupboard for the broom and dustpan. Just as she was dumping the smashed glass into the garbage, the phone rang.

No doubt her parents. What had they forgotten to warn her about?

But it was Grant Thorlow on the line. Immediately, she was on her guard. The man’s brusque manner had definitely wounded yesterday. And yet, she couldn’t say she was sorry to hear his voice again.

“I was wondering if Davin would like a tour of the Avalanche Control Center tomorrow. He seemed pretty interested in our program the other day. Plus there’s that video I was telling you about…”

Snow Wars, she remembered, impressed by the offer but slightly suspicious, as well. Why was he suddenly being so nice? “That’s very kind of you.”

“Yeah, well…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to be rude yesterday. Especially in front of the kid.”

Amalie’s opinion of the man went up a notch at his apology. She liked people who had soft spots for children. “I guess you were pretty plainspoken, but I came here wanting the truth about Helena.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then his voice, a little more tentative this time. “Are you sure about that? Maybe you and the boy are better off not knowing….”