Chapter 5 - Celeste Asked Me For A Ride
Vanessa stood at the door.
For several seconds I thought she would leave.
Then she locked it.
Not dramatically.
Just turned the latch.
She came back.
“Where?”
“I need a minute.”
“You had sixteen years.”
“I didn't remember this cleanly five minutes ago.”
“Where did you take her?”
“Bus station.”
“What bus station?”
“The old downtown terminal.”
“Why?”
“She asked.”
“Where was she going?”
“I don't know.”
“You didn't ask?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“She said she hadn't decided.”
Vanessa laughed in disbelief.
“My mother disappeared and you drove her to a bus station without knowing where she was going.”
“She was forty-six.”
“She was crying.”
“She was also an adult.”
“You were nineteen.”
“So were you.”
“That isn't helping.”
“No.”
I sat opposite her.
“I should have told you.”
“When?”
“The next morning.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't.”
“Why?”
I knew part.
Not all.
“Celeste asked me not to tell Grant where she went.”
Vanessa stared.
“I am not Grant.”
“I know.”
“Did she tell you not to tell me?”
Silence.
“Rachel.”
“No.”
Her chair scraped backward.
She stood.
“You chose that.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when I came back to the hotel, you were with Grant.”
“So?”
“You told me your mother had abandoned both of you.”
“She had.”
“I said I saw her.”
“You said maybe.”
“No.”
The old argument returned differently.
I remembered Vanessa grabbing my shoulders backstage.
Not violent.
Desperate.
“She left us, Rachel.”
Then Grant behind her.
His voice calm.
“You've had a long night. Don't make it worse.”
I had looked at Vanessa.
She said:
“If she wanted me, she would have taken me.”
I was nineteen.
I thought the sentence was yours to believe.
Vanessa sat again.
“What happened at the station?”
“Celeste got out.”
“Did anyone meet her?”
“I don't remember.”
“Try.”
I closed my eyes.
Gray terminal lights.
A woman with one overnight bag.
Celeste had no suitcase.
No car.
No wedding ring? I hadn't noticed.
“She hugged me.”
My throat tightened.
“What did she say?”
“That she was sorry.”
“For what?”
“I asked.”
“And?”
“She said, ‘For making you part of this.’”
Vanessa looked away.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“She knew she was involving you.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“She asked me to tell you something.”
Vanessa turned back.
My memory stopped.
“What?”
“I don't remember the words.”
“You have to.”
“I don't.”
“Rachel.”
“I don't.”
She stood again.
“Convenient.”
“You think I like this?”
“I think you always liked being the person who knew my family better than I did.”
That landed.
Because sometimes I had.
I had been the calm friend.
The one Celeste liked.
The one Grant called sensible.
The one who watched Vanessa fight with both parents and thought:
At least my family isn't like this.
I had used her chaos to feel superior.
“Sometimes,” I said.
Vanessa stopped.
“What?”
“Sometimes I did.”
She stared.
“I liked being the reasonable one next to you.”
She almost laughed.
“Finally.”
“That doesn't make what happened your fault.”
“No.”
“But I want my own part.”
Her anger shifted.
Not gone.
Less simple.
“Did you ever look for her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Online. Old numbers.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No.”
“Did you tell Grant?”
“No.”
“Me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because by then you had stopped answering me.”
“You accused my father of frightening her away.”
“He did.”
“You didn't know that.”
“No.”
“I hated you.”
“I know.”
Then Vanessa looked at the ring.
“If Celeste hid this before you drove her away…”
“Yes.”
“She planned for me to find it.”
“Probably.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Vanessa touched the crown for the first time.
Carefully now.
“She knew this crown came home with me.”
“Usually.”
“It was mine.”
“Yes.”
“She knew Grant packed my costumes.”
“Maybe.”
“Then why hide something where he could find it?”
No answer.
We both stared at the loose lining.
I remembered Celeste asking for the sewing kit.
I remembered her fingers moving quickly near the crown.
Then another piece surfaced.
“She asked me who packed your things.”
Vanessa looked up.
“What?”
“At the bus station.”
“What did you say?”
“Grant.”
Her face changed.
“What did she do?”
“She closed her eyes.”
Vanessa leaned back.
The ring had not been hidden somewhere Grant would never look.
It had been hidden somewhere Celeste expected Vanessa to look first.
But Grant had apparently taken control of the crown after she left.
“What happened to it after finals?” I asked.
Vanessa stared at the jewels.
“I don't know.”
“You never brought it home?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My father said the pageant wanted it for publicity photographs.”
“And afterward?”
“He told me it had been donated.”
“By you?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“I was nineteen and my mother had just disappeared.”
Right.
Then Vanessa said:
“I need to find Grant.”
“For what?”
“To ask whether he knew.”
“Knew what?”
She looked at the ring.
“That my mother left something for me and made sure I never got it.”
The central question had changed.
May you like
The ring might not prove where Celeste went.
It might prove Grant controlled what Vanessa was allowed to receive after she left.
