Heart of Glass

Chapter 14

Ariel felt like a cat being forced to accept affection. Her expression soured as her body tensed, resisting the urge to hiss and claw her way out of Paige's grasp.

With her free hand, she managed to disengage Paige's distraught body from hers and took a quick step back, putting Amelia between them.

"Who's this then?" Amelia asked.

"My sister," she muttered. "Paige."

Amelia slapped her thigh. "Of course! Should've picked it; you guys look so bloody alike."

Ariel's mouth twisted. "Yeah right."

"We get that a lot," Paige's voice trembled as she tried to reign in her emotions. "People used to think we were twins when we were little."

"Whatever," Ariel said, her voice muffled as she stifled a yawn.

"How did you get here?" Paige whispered in wonder. "Dad said he wasn't going to let you come home – "

"I would think that was pretty obvious," Ariel interrupted, hand resting on her hip. She looked out the window. "What time is it?"

"I don't know, about midday?" Paige replied, checking her watch and gasped. "The funeral is in an hour! You need to get changed."

"Right." She turned to Amelia. "Make yourself at home or whatever. I'll be back in a minute."

Walking to the door leading to her bedroom, it opened and she bumped into her father. At fifty-three, he was still in good shape. It was to be expected since he treated his body like a temple, and when he wasn't at work he was at the gym. Quality family time had never been on Andrew Winters list of priorities – or any family time for that matter. If it didn't involve business, he didn't care about it.

His hair, which had been salt and pepper when she last saw him – as he locked her in her bedroom – was now a jet black, slicked back to perfection. There were no tired bags under his hazel eyes, no signs of grief or pain at the loss of his father in law. Ariel's jaw clenched at his indifference.

"Ariel." Annoyance laced his voice. "How did you get here?"

"Ask Amelia, she's the witch," she answered coldly. Pushing past him, she didn't wait for a reply and stalked down the corridor to her bedroom.

"Ariel –" she heard her father call but she kept walking.

Reaching the familiar door with the pink letter 'A' swirling eloquently across the wood, she quickly opened it and slammed it shut.

She dropped her bags on the floor, keeping a hold on her handbag. The sound of muted voices drifted down the corridor. She recognized Amelia's gruff accent mingled with the stern consternation of her father's. She secretly hoped her father ticked Amelia off just enough so she'd turn him into a frog or something.

Everything in her room was just as she'd left it two months ago. The bed remained unmade, the pale blue doona and white sheet crumpled in a heap at the bottom corner near the window. In her weeks of confinement she had sat on that pile every night, watching the stars and counting the constellations until she fell asleep. A small pile of clothes sat on the floor by her dresser, the remnants of her hasty packing for England.

From the bottom of the pile, a flash of hot pink was just visible. Her throat closed over. Bending down, she pulled the hot pink fabric out, causing the pile to disintegrate into a larger mess. She held up the dress.

She had loved this dress. It was the first piece of clothing she had bought when she started her 'socialite crusade'. Lainie had been with her at the time. She had hated it, referencing every hooker quote she had in her artillery to prevent Ariel from buying it. Ariel had ignored her and purchased it anyway. She had thought it made her look older, and more glamorous.