Chapter 8 - The Desperate Visit
Two months later, winter arrived in Chicago.
I was sitting in the back of my town car outside a quiet downtown coffee shop, waiting for my driver to pick up my morning tea, when I saw a woman standing near the entrance in the freezing wind.
It was Vanessa.
She was wearing a thin, faded winter coat that was two sizes too big. Her long, manicured nails were gone, replaced by short, unpainted fingertips. She was holding a paper cup of cheap coffee, shivering violently as she waited for the city bus.
When she turned her head, she caught sight of my town car. She recognized the Meridian license plate.
Vanessa dropped her coffee cup onto the slushy pavement and ran toward my car window.
She banged desperately on the dark glass. “Claire! Claire, please! Open the door! Please speak to me!”
I lowered the bulletproof glass two inches.
The icy winter air rushed into the warm leather interior. Vanessa stood outside, her nose red, tears freezing on her cheeks.
“Claire... please,” Vanessa sobbed, her voice trembling. “Mark is going to prison in two weeks. Dad is working a retail job at sixty-eight to pay the bills. Mom is crying every single night. We have nothing left!”
I looked at my sister. The girl who had been put on a pedestal her entire life while I was treated as the invisible servant.
“What do you want, Vanessa?” I asked, my voice devoid of anger, holding only a cold, distant clarity.
“Help us!” she cried out, placing her bare hands against the glass. “You have millions of dollars, Claire! Just give us enough to pay off the mortgage! Give me enough to get an apartment! I’m your sister!”
“You were my sister,” I corrected softly. “Until October 12th of last year.”
Vanessa’s face crumpled in shame. “I was selfish... I know I was selfish! I should have made them go to the funeral! I should have canceled my birthday! I think about it every single day, Claire! I see Emma and Noah’s pictures in my dreams!”
“You don't see them in your dreams because you love them, Vanessa,” I said gently. “You see them because you miss your sports car and your credit cards. You miss the life my husband’s company was supposed to fund.”
“That’s not true!” she wailed.
“It is true,” I replied. “If Mark’s company had gotten that contract, you would still be posting photos online, living in luxury, and you would never have thought about my children’s caskets again.”
My driver returned, opening the driver's door and stepping inside.
“Roll up the window, please, Frank,” I told the driver.
May you like
“Claire! Please! Don't leave me out here in the cold!” Vanessa screamed, banging her fists against the rising glass. “Please, Claire!”
The heavy glass sealed shut, blocking out her screams entirely. The town car pulled smoothly away from the curb, leaving my sister standing alone in the snow on a crowded city sidewalk.
