ChapterTwenty-Two
Forty-three-year-old Agnes Larker greeted them at the doorway at three-forty-two in a white linen two-piece leisure outfit, suggesting that she’d done little more than drink white wine and read books on the beach all morning and afternoon. Her confused face formed a tight smile, one that Mallory didn’t believe for a second.This woman does not want us here.
“What a surprise,” Agnes began. “The Steel Ladies.”
Agnes hovered on the other side of the door, not inviting them in. Her toenails had been painted a cherry-blossom pink.
Elsa lifted the blueberry pie forward, presenting a smile that could have won any beauty pageant across the east coast. “Agnes. It’s been so long since we met properly. I know that I’m partially to blame.”
“No, no.” Agnes waved a perfectly manicured hand forward. “There’s no reason to put the blame on yourself. So much has happened since we all, well. Since Aiden…”
Elsa’s smile remained plastered on. Mallory made a mental note to compliment her mother’s acting skills, at least when the two of them got out of this mess.
“We also managed to bring a bottle of champagne from my stepmother’s gorgeous collection,” Elsa said hurriedly. “We’d love to share a bit of pie and a bit of bubbly with an old friend.”
It was clear that Elsa wouldn’t take no for an answer. Mallory watched as Agnes bounced the thoughts around in her mind, trying to add up what she needed to say in order to get out of this as quickly as she could.
“It does look like a beautiful pie, Elsa. You were always so talented,” Agnes cooed. Slowly, she inched the door of their multi-million-dollar mansion open, bit-by-bit showing off the iconic portrait of Agnes on the far wall, plus a series of sculptures of Greek goddesses, something that Mallory thought was totally tacky.
Elsa burst through the door, her eyes scanning the foyer. “I really forgot just how individualistic your decor is.”
“It’s changed quite a bit over the years,” Agnes said, clearly pleased with the compliment. “Peter and I have traveled extensively and been inspired by the magnificent world of art and history.”
Mallory’s stomach crumpled. She suddenly thought back to Alexie’s horrible art friends. This was the result of them: entirely pretentious, speaking words that meant nothing at all. Elsa pretended to be impressed, still nodding along.
“Aiden and I had so many plans for places we wanted to go,” Elsa said. “I’m glad to see that you and Peter made it.”
Agnes blushed, guiding them toward the white-washed kitchen with its canary yellow curtains. Throughout the walk, Mallory forced herself to analyze every single item in every nook and cranny, hungry to spot something she recognized from the Remington House. She sensed that her mother did the same.
When they reached the kitchen, Agnes gestured toward the table and scrambled for a knife to cut the pie. Mallory’s heart flipped over.A murder weapon.Ah, but she’d read too many court cases over the past month. Agnes wasn’t going to kill them, was she? Well, if she did, it would probably stain her perfect linen outfit. Nobody wanted that.
With three china plates of blueberry pie before them, the three women set about performing the rituals of “catching up.” Elsa pushed Agnes to tell her what she and Peter had been up to that summer. Her answer of, “Oh, not much,” forced her eyes downward.
“We’ve had a particularly trying time,” Elsa continued, her nostrils flared. “Most of our worldly possessions, things my father collected over the years, were stolen from our house.”
Notably, Agnes nearly dropped her fork. Her hand shook side-to-side.
“I heard about that,” Agnes breathed. “Such a tragedy. I’m so sorry to hear.”
Elsa waved a hand. “They’re just things, right?”
Agnes stared down at her slice of pie as though it fully captivated her. “I don’t know if I can finish this,” she said, stretching a hand over her stomach. “I haven’t been eating sugar lately. Or carbs.”
“Oh, but Agnes. Isn’t wine all sugar?” Elsa said with an easy laugh.
Agnes’s laughter joined hers. The two women sounded menacing, as though they planned to laugh the other one to death. A laugh-off. Mallory cringed.
“I’m sure it’s awkward that we dropped in like this,” Mallory began.
“Oh, there she goes again,” Elsa said, mid-laugh. “Young people are always using this word ‘awkward.’”
“You’re so right!” Agnes cried, her thin eyebrows lifting toward her hair. “Awkward this. Awkward that.”
“Ha ha ha.” Mallory heard her own laughter join theirs. She stabbed her fork through the blissful blueberry pie and chewed, trying to drum up some way to explore the rest of the mansion. After a quick swallow, she said, “Agnes, where is your bathroom again? It’s been so long since I’ve been here.”
Do I really dare to do this? Am I actually strong enough?
Agnes’s finger quivered as she pointed toward the doorway. “Should I take you?”