Free The Sisters Montclair by Cathy Holton

tailored pants and a white ruffled blouse. She looked very stylish. “I just came by to check on things.” She closed the magazine on her lap. “How is she?”
    “She’s fine.” Stella stood by one of the chairs, not certain whether she should sit or continue standing. Adeline made her nervous. “A little forgetful today.”
    “Aren’t we all sometimes?” Her tone was sharp but her expression was bland, impassive.
    “Yes.” Stella had the feeling that Adeline had stopped by hoping to catch her in some transgression; eating food out of the refrigerator or loading valuables into her purse. Some offense that would lead to a swift and certain firing.
    “The other girl will be here soon?” Adeline said.
    “Yes. At eight o’clock.”
    “So how was your first week?”
    “It was good. I enjoy Alice’s company.”
    Adeline seemed surprised. “Do you?”
    “Yes.”
    “How unusual. She goes through caregivers fairly quickly. Some don’t even last the first day.”
    Stella gave a careless shrug. “I’m tougher than that,” she said.
    “Obviously.”
    Outside the windows, the lights of the valley glimmered in the darkness. Deep within the house, a sound caught Stella’s attention, the soft bang of a closing door. She turned her head to listen.
    Adeline said, “Any problems to relate?”
    “Well.” Stella hesitated, unsure whether she should mention it. Adeline was staring at her, her expression cool, unreadable. Stella took a deep breath and went on. “She has nightmares. When she naps in the afternoons. I heard her on the monitor.” She should just shut up. The woman was looking at her in the same way people in authority often looked at her. Hostility mixed with distrust. Underlying it all, fear. She should just shut up but Adeline’s expression made her bold.
    “Someone named Laura,” she said evenly. “She has nightmares about someone named Laura.”
    Adeline’s expression changed; a flicker of something and then a sphinx-like composure descending. She picked up the magazine on her lap and opened it again.
    “You must be mistaken,” she said coldly.

Four

    O n Friday morning Stella missed her nine o’clock class. She lay in bed long after Josh had left for work, imagining how angry he’d be if he came in and found her still in bed. She was not allowed to sleep in if he wasn’t. It was an unspoken rule in the house. And it was not a class she could afford to miss, either. Stella knew this, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to rise and get dressed and jump on her bike and pedal to campus. She lay in bed with her arms behind her head, watching as the sunlight pushed between the broken slats of the mini-blinds and climbed the walls.
    It was going to be one of her dark days. She could feel despair like a hard lump in her stomach, a lump that would swell and spread gradually through her chest until it nearly choked her. She would carry it around for days, feeling weighed down, oppressed, marked by a secret shame. Josh had no patience with her moods; he took it as a personal affront, an indication he was doing something wrong. Not feeding her enough, not providing a safe roof over her head, not making her cry out in bed. She hid it from him as best she could.
    On Friday night when he came home she had managed to rise and dress herself and mop the kitchen floor. A pot of chili bubbled on the stove.
    “What’s this?” he said, lifting the lid of the pot and sniffing.
    “Cincinnati Chili.”
    “Smells good.” He sat down at the table and waited for her to fix him a bowl. She took a cold beer out of the refrigerator and set it down on the table in front of him.
    He looked at her. “Aren’t you eating?”
    “I’m not hungry.”
    He drank thirstily and then set the beer down and began to eat. She sat across from him with one knee drawn up, smoking a cigarette and staring out the window at the darkening sky.
    “Did you make cornbread?” he said.
    She got up and went to the cupboard and took