Page 28 of The Locked Ward
“Mandy?”
Even if I didn’t recognize her voice or see the sparkling rock weighing down her ring finger, I’d know it was Caroline. Everything about her matches my image of a privileged bride-to-be.
I’m swallowing my last bite of an everything bagel with chive cream cheese—an un-bridal meal if there ever was one—so I just nod.
“I know I’m early, but I couldn’t wait.”
“No problem.” I brush the seeds from my fingertips. “Let’s go on up.”
In the few minutes it takes us to journey to Georgia’s door, I learn about Caroline’s hopes for a slightly overcast day on her wedding—“It’s actually better for the pictures”—and her frustration with people who don’t have the decency to RSVP by the due date.
I unlock the door to Georgia’s apartment and usher Caroline in. She finally falls silent, as if she’s entering a hallowed space.
“It’s weird,” she says a moment later. “Georgia’s probably never coming back here again. She went to a party one night and just like that”—Caroline snaps her fingers—“she turned into a different person.”
“Sounds like you know her better than I do,” I say. “Did she ever bring up Annabelle?”
“Um, can we start looking for the Bible while we talk?”
“Oh!” As if I’ve just remembered, I lift up the cloth bag I’m holding. “I found the receipt on Georgia’s desk and picked it up at the bookbinder’s this morning.”
Caroline snatches the bag and pulls off the protective bubble wrap to uncover the old Bible. She examines it briefly before gently hugging it to her chest, then swaddling it back into the packaging.
“My mother would’ve died if we’d lost it,” she says. “I’ve got to text her.”
She pulls out her phone and taps out a message. I walk into the kitchen, calling behind me, “How about some coffee?” Now that I’ve got her here, I don’t plan on letting her leave until I’ve wrung some information out of her.
Caroline turns down my offer, but she follows me and settles onto a stool. She looks around the apartment, taking everything in.
“Have you been here before?” I ask.
“No, but it looks just like I imagined it. Of course Georgia would live in a beautiful place.”
I clock her stare as I grab a mug out of a high cupboard and pop a ruby-colored pod into the machine.
“I know it’s weird to be using her things, but she did give me her keys and I’ve made coffee in her kitchen before, so… Anyway, Georgia never really talked about Annabelle to me. What about you? What do you think happened between them?”
Caroline furrows her brow. “I guess it’s like they say. She’d always been jealous of Annabelle. I heard that’s why the Cartwrights sent Georgia to boarding school, to get her away from her little sister because she was so cruel to her.”
“Where’d you hear that?” I take the almond milk creamer out of the fridge and pour a splash into my coffee.
“One of my mom’s friends told her. I think her cousin knows Honey Cartwright.”
“Wow,” I say, widening my eyes. I lean forward, resting my forearms on the island. When I tend bar, I end up playing therapist sometimes, and what I’ve learned is that people want to talk far more than they want to listen. Show you’re a captive audience, and they’ll tell you just about anything.
“What else?”
Caroline leans closer, too, mirroring my pose.
Her voice is low, but there’s an edge of thrill riding it.
“I keep thinking about this: Georgia said it would be sweet if my goldendoodle Lulu was the ring bearer and a bridesmaid walked her down the aisle on a white silk leash. Georgia really loves dogs, so I asked if she had one. She told me she really wanted one growing up but wasn’t allowed because Annabelle was allergic.
Then, right after Georgia was sent to boarding school, Annabelle outgrew her allergies and she got a dog.
Not just that, but Senator Dawson gave it to Annabelle as a birthday present because he and his wife are best friends with her parents, so everyone made this huge deal about it. ”
I take a sip of coffee. “I mean, that’s a little weird, but it can happen. Kids outgrow allergies sometimes, right?”
“I guess. But I got the impression Georgia was still bitter about it.”
“How so?”
“Just the way she talked about it. Like Annabelle had gotten the thing Georgia wanted most, and Georgia was the forgotten sister.”
It’s so hard to imagine Georgia feeling that way—she looks like the woman who inspires envy, not experiences it. But some people are invested in cultivating an image that is worlds away from the reality bubbling beneath.
“Did Georgia say anything else about Annabelle?”
“No, and I was curious because my sister gets on my last nerve sometimes. She’s always been competitive with me, and get this, she got engaged recently and scheduled her engagement dinner for a week before my wedding.” Caroline tosses her long, beachy waves in indignation.
“And you’re upset by that,” I say, still in therapist mode.
“Yeah. I wish I could ask Georgia about it. She’d know exactly what to do. She always had backup plans for her backup plans, you know? Nothing ever went wrong when Georgia was around. We’ve got this new wedding planner who’s taking over, but she isn’t as good as Georgia.”
Once again, it’s hard to reconcile the portrait Caroline is painting of my sister with the one generated by the media: an enraged, out-of-control killer who descended into madness. I wonder how many sides there are to Georgia.
“My best friend told me to skip the engagement dinner and say I’m busy wedding planning. I don’t know, I’d feel like she’s winning then.”
I’ve probably gotten all the information I can out of Caroline. In her world, all conversational roads lead to her wedding.
“Don’t skip the dinner,” I say without even thinking about it.
“Here’s what you should do: Show up twenty minutes late.
Let them get all the gushing about her engagement out of the way.
Oh, and wear a gorgeous white dress. Make them remember you’re the bride.
Your sister is just the warm-up act. You’re the star. ”
Caroline is staring at me, her eyes round.
I’m a little surprised myself. I don’t know what came over me; this isn’t the sort of thing I’d usually say.
Then Caroline smiles broadly.
“You know what? That’s exactly what Georgia would say.”