Sway

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The walls of my bedroom at Kellynch have been six different colors. For the first three years of my life, they were a cheery yellow. I don’t remember it but I’ve seen pictures of my tiny baby-self asleep in a bassinet, the walls like lemon meringue. Like most girls, I developed a love of pink and princesses and all things sparkly. Mom had my room repainted to my exact specifications, complete with a filmy canopy over the bed and unicorns in every corner. Then came my lavender phase around age ten. I was too old for pink and thought that pale purple was much more mature. At twelve, I was all about pistachio.

Two years later, Mom died and my walls went through transformation number five. I painted them myself, changing the pale green to stark white. I didn’t cry while I painted, or slap it on in a fit of rage. I painted because I had to. My room became blank and cold. A symbol of my feelings, though I didn’t realize it at the time.

A light knock sounded on the door and Aunt Rose popped her head in. “May I?”

She never used to ask to come in, even when I became a teenager and guarded my privacy like I guarded my mother’s Cartier necklace.

“Sure.” I looked away from the blue paint—transformation number 6—to my Aunt. She sat next to me on the bed and folded her hands in her lap.

“I’m sorry you had to come home to all this.”

So was I. Although, I suppose I couldn’t blame them entirely. I’d always taken the money for granted, almost as much as Beth and Dad. Not once had I protested about my paid-for tuition at Juilliard or my apartment near campus. I always accepted the monthly checks Dad sent, and spent them, though I’d never gone into debt myself. The only difference between them and me: I’d earned a little of my own teaching piano.

“What happened?” I asked. “Did Beth buy the entire Hermes fall collection?”

She ignored that. “I’ve tried to curb their extravagances. I’m afraid I pushed too hard and they went underground.”

I wanted to laugh. It was easy to imagine the lengths they would go, all in the name of shopping. But this wasn’t funny. “Dad’s an adult. He should be able to handle himself.”

She sighed. “Your father has never been very good with money. Your mother was the one who handled financial matters.”

I fiddled with the hem of my shorts. “I’m sure you did the best you could.”

Aunt Rose put her arm around me but I didn’t return the gesture.

“Isn’t there something else we could do? What if he sold the beach house? Or the villa?” It was ridiculous that Dad owned three properties but was in so much debt. He had to think smaller. Losing Kellynch would be unbearable, but surely he could sell our Malibu beach house, at least.

“I suggested that, but Walter won’t let go of his properties.” She dropped her arm from my shoulders. “If I can find a renter here, I’m hoping he and Elizabeth will move to Malibu. He owns the beach house outright and the utility costs are much lower than Kellynch. After a few years, the rent should be enough to pull him out.”

I bit my lip. Looking for my own place had just become priority number one.

“It will be hard to say goodbye to Kellynch.” Aunt Rose glanced over the inches of my bedroom. “It’s not even mine but I feel a part of it. And there is so much of Julianne here. Your mother loved this house.”

Just after Mom died, I would wait in the kitchen for my aunt to visit after work, eager to tell her about my day while secretly wishing it was my mom instead. We used to talk of my mom—her sister—and what we thought she’d be doing at the time if she was still alive. But we both knew that it didn’t matter what Mom would do if she was there, only things would be better.

I tried to picture my mom here at this moment, sitting on the stuffed leather chair by the window, a solution to the money problem ready at her lips. Mom had never been in my room when it was blue so it was hard for me to see her here. But then, if she was around, Dad wouldn’t have been in this mess to begin with.

“What’s the deal with Beth’s friend?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Shelby Clay?” Aunt Rose’s face darkened. “I’ve warned Elizabeth about bringing that woman around, but you know how she can be.”

Willful? Stubborn? Incapable of thinking about anyone other than herself? Shame pricked my conscience. That wasn’t true. Beth was never selfish when it came to Dad. I was the one who ran away. Beth had never left his side.

“How did they even become friends?” Beth cared a lot about appearances and Shelby Clay was a few steps below her usual crowd.

“I have no idea.”

I don’t know why I bothered asking, Beth never confided in Aunt Rose. “It’s pretty clear what she’s after.”

Aunt Rose gave me a sharp look. “I think you’re right. She’s in her early thirties, divorced three times already. Your father is a magnet for someone like her, even with his financial difficulties.”

It wasn’t like Beth to be so oblivious. My older sister had her faults, but there was no way she’d want that girl to become her new mom.

“I spoke to Walter,” Aunt Rose continued. My eyebrows rose. “He wouldn’t listen either. Shelby is Elizabeth’s friend and he didn’t want to hear any more about it. Perhaps I should have been blunter.”

Good luck with that. Beth’s stubbornness was an inherited trait.

“But enough of this. I want to hear about you.” She put her hand on my knee. I didn’t know what to say or what I felt comfortable talking about, and yet it was nice that she wanted to know. I’d missed that.

“I’m fine. Looking forward to a fresh start.” Another fresh start. Or maybe restart was a better word.

“What about Juilliard?”

I walked to the window. “I didn’t get accepted into the DMA program.” I stared down at the pool below, the empty lounge chairs that would soon have strangers lazing in them. “Since I can’t get my doctoral, there wasn’t much to stay for.” I turned away from the window and faced her, a corner of my mouth lifting. “But I have my Master’s. That’s something.”

“It’s more than something. It’s remarkable.” Aunt Rose smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Ava.”

I looked down at my feet. “Thanks.”

“What now?”

“Oh, you know. Get a job. Find my own place.” Go anywhere but Malibu. “Lexi said something about an audition with her orchestra. I’ll find out tomorrow when I see her.”

“That’s wonderful. You have so many opportunities. I’m sure orchestras around the world would be glad to have you.”

Maybe. There was only so much I could do with a Master’s from Juilliard. Most of my classmates who hadn’t gone on to the DMA program were touring or recording CDs, but I had never wanted to take that path. Notoriety and fame weren’t things I longed for. My fingers tapped a silent tune on my leg.

Aunt Rose smoothed the creases of her pants. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with—”

“It’s no big deal.”

She studied my face. “You were together a long time. You must be heartbroken.”

“It was mutual.” It had been eight years since I felt comfortable talking to my aunt about my relationships, I wasn’t about to start now.

“Are you sure? I mean…”

“It wasn’t right between Kaz and I anymore. We both knew it.” I shrugged. “That’s all.”

“Well, if you need someone to talk to.” Her fingers fiddled with the pearls around her neck, the second time today her nerves were showing. We both knew I wouldn’t be going to her for relationship advice again.

She got up from the bed. “I’m so happy you’re home. I hope that we can…”

I couldn’t imagine an ending to that sentence that wouldn’t sound forced. Obviously she couldn’t either.

“Dinner should be ready in half an hour,” she said and left the room.

My eyes roamed back to the blue walls. I ran a hand over the smooth paint. Two years of stark white before a deep ocean blue had taken over. I’d chosen the color, but I couldn’t take responsibility for my room coming alive again. I hadn’t been the one to beat down the starkness in my bedroom, or within myself. Someone else had the credit for all that. But I wasn’t ready to think about him either.