Page 88 of The Manor of Dreams

The phone rang again after dinner. This time Vivian went to get it. Sophie watched her stand over the phone while it rang. She picked up the receiver and let it fall. And then she went into the library.

Sophie followed her. A Yí looked up when she entered. Sophie closed the door behind her. “What do they want?”

A Yí’s voice was calm. “His mother wants an autopsy.”

“They’ll find out,” Sophie choked out in terror.

“Lower your voice,” Vivian said sharply. She sat and shifted her papers. “He’s not getting one.”

“Why not?”

“Because only the next of kin can authorize it. And I’m the next of kin.”

“You can’t—” Sophie balled her hands into fists. “She must already suspect something.”

“She shouldn’t. My husband died of an overdose. Everyone knows that. He was no stranger to that possibility. You mix sleeping pills and alcohol and you take that risk.”

“But they don’t believe you.”

Finally A Yí looked up but said nothing.

“What if the police get involved? What if we get put on trial?”

Vivian slammed her palm against the table. “We won’t.” Sophie jumped. There was a dangerous look in the older woman’s eyes. Her hair was disheveled; her clothes hung off her too-thin frame. “You need to calm down.???.”

“A Yí,” Sophie said. Her whole body was shivering now as tears fell down her cheeks. “Please.”

“Stop crying. You can’t lose your mind.” Her voice dropped. “You put us all at risk.” Vivian straightened up. “Everything will be fine. Just do as I say.” She reached out and held Sophie by the shoulders. “We keep this to ourselves. All right?”

Sophie nodded. She swallowed. At the door, she swore she heard footsteps. “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

But when Sophie opened the door, the foyer was empty.

That night she went for a walk in the garden. She stopped in front of the roses and looked down at their perfect blooms. Bà had clipped the tops where they’d grown too tall.

If only she hadn’t kissed Ada in the library, if only they’d stopped there, if only they’d never tried to—

She had seen that vision so clearly. She and Ada in a house of their own. In a garden of their own. A part of her still clung to the possibility and she hated herself for it. Her insides contracted in searing pain and her head spun. Sophie fell forward, her palms braced against the ground, and vomited into the dirt. She knelt there, her stomach heaving, as a final, horrible thought entered her mind.

Vomiting. Lips numb. She’d been feeling ill for days.

You can’t lose your mind. You put us all at risk.

What if—

Her pulse thudded wildly. She remembered Vivian’s cold eyes on her, judging her, but now Sophie realized Vivian had not been judging. She had been calculating.

Could Vivian be poisoning her, too? What if it was slow this time? Little by little, until Sophie dropped dead?

She would never, Sophie thought in a panic. She was paranoid. But she didn’t know what Vivian was capable of anymore. What if this was her way of making sure that Sophie could never testify? Could she make this look like another accident?

Sophie was the daughter of a gardener and a housekeeper. Her name would disappear and no one would care. Vivian would explainit away to her parents. After all, hadn’t they been in debt to her their whole lives? Hadn’t Vivian shown them nothing but kindness?

The clouds above her started to swirl. Sophie clutched her stomach and staggered forward. There was only one way out. She had to escape. Now.

thirty-three

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