Page 76 of The Women of Wild Hill
“Your stepmother told me that you weren’t interested in helping me!”
Brigid snorted. “You spoke to Sienna Laguerre? When?”
“Right after you turned eighteen. I sent you a letter you never answered, so I got the attorney to give me your dad’s phone number, and when I called your stepmom answered.”
“Mystepmom? You mean the monster who tortured me every goddamned day until I got my first movie gig and moved the hell out of her house? The stepmother I haven’t spoken to since that happened? The stepmother who was the inspiration for the life-sucking demon in the first film I wrote?”
Phoebe pulled in a deep breath and held it. “Fuck,” she sighed as she set it free. Sibyl was right. She’d been an idiot to listen to Brigid’s stepmother.
“If I’d known you needed me, I would have been there in an instant.”
Phoebe nodded mutely. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Her sister thought it was a misunderstanding. But it wasn’t. Not really. Over the past thirty years, she’d never once wondered if Sienna Laguerre had been telling the truth. She’d been so quick to believe the worst of her sister. Now Phoebe knew why. She’dwantedto.
Her entire life, Phoebe had defined her place in the world in relation to Brigid. She was the sweet one. The easy one. The healer. She needed Brigid to be the bad sister in order for her to be the good one. But she’d mixed up their roles. She’d been wrong about everything.
Brigid saw her sister start to crumble. “Hey, Phoebe, don’t lose it,” she said. “It’s all in the past now. I just wish I’d killed that bitch when I had the chance. The fire ants would have been the perfect solution. No open casket.”
Her sister’s kindness destroyed the last of Phoebe’s defenses, and the tears finally broke through. “I’m sorry,” she blubbered. “I’m sorry for blaming you for Mom’s death, and I’m sorry for believing your stepmother. I’m fucking awful.”
“Yeah,” Brigid said, pulling Phoebe into her arms. “You’re a real asshole. But you’re also my sister, and I’ll always love you.”
“You don’t hate me?” Phoebe sobbed.
“Just a little.” Brigid laughed and let her go. “No, I don’t hateyou. And I’m sorry for being a whiny bitch about my gift.” That conjured a memory she’d been meaning to share. “Oh shit! I forgot to tell you. I found out today I’m not the only killer witch in the world.”
Phoebe wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. “Yeah? How’d you find out?”
“I met another one on the beach this afternoon. Her name is Harriett Osborne. She and her friends burned down Culling Pointe. Apparently, there are quite a few witches in the hood these days. She believes the Island is drawing them.”
“Those must be the ‘others’ Bessie was talking about.”
“I don’t get it,” Brigid told her
Phoebe rose from her seat. “They’re being drawn to Wild Hill.”
Brigid sat, stunned. “Holy shit, the witches are all cominghere?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s why the mansion’s opened up. Come on.” She held out a hand. “We need to make sure it’s ready for visitors.”
“Hey, wait,” Brigid took her sister’s hand. “Before we go, there’s something I wanted to say. I really missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” Phoebe told her.
THE PARTY AT THE GEDDEShouse threw the next obstacle in the Duncans’ path. Brigid had packed a suitcase for Wild Hill, but she hadn’t brought anything suitable for rubbing shoulders with billionaires. All of Phoebe’s clothes had been swept away by a tornado, and Sibyl’s were back in Brooklyn. Fortunately, the cottage’s closets were filled with clothes left behind by the ancestors (and a few of Sadie’s lovers, both male and female). In the attic, the three discovered an entire rack of evening gowns representing every fashion trend of the twentieth century. Brigid chose a strapless black cocktail dress that Sadie had worn. Phoebe found a flowing whiteHalston that Flora purchased back in the seventies. And Sibyl chose a gold-beaded flapper dress that had belonged to her great-great-grandmother, Rose.
Liam sent a car to fetch them for the party. Gathered in the foyer, it was the first time they saw each other in their formal wear. Brigid’s eyes were smoky and lips scarlet. Her red hair fell over her bare shoulders, where blue veins were just visible beneath violet-tinged skin. Phoebe’s skin glowed with no assistance from makeup, and she wore her hair in a crown of braids woven through with a golden ribbon. Sibyl was where all the Duncan traits met. She was light and dark, glamorous and natural. Her red curls formed a bloom around her lovely face. The Three looked, very much, like a trio.
THE THREE ARRIVED TO FINDthe Geddes house lit up from within. Its glass walls disappeared in the darkness, and hundreds of people milled about on a platform at the edge of the sea.
“I didn’t know everyone from Manhattan would be here,” Phoebe muttered. She wasn’t accustomed to being surrounded by so many people at once.
“There he is.” Brigid had caught sight of Liam across the room—and he had caught sight of her. He excused himself from the conversation he’d been engrossed in only seconds earlier and made his way over to greet his latest guests. He wore a pair of crisp black pants and a white button-down shirt with no tie. Somehow, he was the best dressed man at the party.
“Ladies,” he said. “Thank you so much for coming. Phoebe, Sibyl, it’s lovely to see you again.” He kissed them both on the cheek. “You look absolutely stunning. And you...” He seemed to lose his words as he took Brigid in.
Brigid found herself struggling to focus. “You, too,” was all she could manage.
“Would you two excuse us for a few minutes?” Liam said, taking Brigid by the hand. “I need a word in private with Brigid.”
