Glassmage

Chapter Thirty

Thirty

Both girls simply stared at one another. After about thirty seconds, the sound of the wind against the eaves of the chalet broke the silence. Gabrielle tentatively asked, “How did you get here?” and Laurel laughed.

Gabrielle thought, crazily, it’s like listening to that recording of my own voice. Unreal!

“I didn’t get here,” Laurel said, more seriously now. “I live here.”

Laurel had grown up both in Bern and Adelboden. While Gabrielle had thought her parents cared only for their work, Laurel had pieced together all the random facts that led her to believe she had a twin sister somewhere in America.

“I’m sure you saw our parents more than I ever did,” Laurel said, “I’ve been raised by governesses and tutors my entire life.”

They quickly found comfort in their mutual distrust and resentment of both Kendra and William Sable. Without saying it out loud, they felt an even deeper bond acknowledging the fact that their parents did not seem to care much for either of them.

“Besides,” Laurel added. “They’re just using me for… well, I don’t know how to explain it. Maybe you should go first. Tell me everything and don’t leave a single thing out.”

So, nestled together in their alpine hideaway, Gabrielle told her story, beginning with her move to Ocean Beach to live with Marine. They sat together on a heavily quilted bed and Laurel listened in rapt attention. Gabrielle held nothing back.

Just when she finished explaining how she instinctively knew the house key was in the painted frog’s mouth, the clock downstairs claimed it was nine o’clock. Without saying a thing, Laurel led them down to the kitchen. The refrigerator was stocked with an amazing variety of foods. Lunchmeats, cheeses, pasta salads, yogurt cups, applesauce, bags of baby carrots and celery sticks. There were bottles of spring water and cans of fruit-flavored iced tea. The words on the labels were, Gabrielle thought, French, but she was overwhelmed by the fact that she and Laurel had almost exactly the same taste in foods. Nearly every item in the fridge was something she not only liked, but would normally choose.

“Take whatever you want,” Laurel said, enjoying the look in her sister’s eyes. “Miss de’Malange restocks it every week.”

“It’s like this is your own house,” Gabrielle laughed.

With a strangely sorrowful look, Laurel said, “It is. Mom and Dad have a suite down at the lab. The building you saw on your way up here.”

“Oh,” was all Gabrielle could say. At first, she thought how cool it would be to live in your own little house, but being by yourself all the time was another thing.

Taking some ham, cheese and a can of raspberry tea, Gabrielle moved to a small kitchen island, found a small loaf of crusty bread and began making a sandwich. Laurel grabbed a handful of raw carrots and some water, explaining that she’d eaten just before Gabrielle arrived. Sitting on stools, encircled by the multihued light of a hanging Tiffany-style light, Gabrielle said, “I just told you the craziest story in the world and you didn’t ask a single question. You’re not curious about anything? You don’t doubt any of it?”

Munching thoughtfully, Laurel stretched. “I don’t doubt a single word you told me. It’s strange. I’ve grown up questioning everything: Mom and Dad, their business, my knowledge of you, why they’ve been using me—”

“Wait a minute. Using you? How?”

After a long swallow of her water, Laurel said, “Okay. Now it’s time for my side of the story.”