Sisters One, Two, Three Read online

  PRAISE FOR NANCY STAR

  “An extraordinarily moving, beautifully written novel, Sisters One, Two, Three is a searing portrait of a family haunted by tragedy and fractured by the toxic power of secrets. As the story progresses, we grow to know and love the fierce and eccentric Tangles, a family at once familiar and like no other. I was riveted from the first page.”

  —Christina Baker Kline, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Orphan Train

  “With delightful wit and the prowess of an expert storyteller, Star offers profound insight into the maternal heart in this deftly braided tale of the utterly original Tangles. Sisters One, Two, Three begs to be read in one big gulp—and will leave you with a lasting understanding of the treacherous balance between love and autonomy.”

  —Lisa Gornick, author of Louisa Meets Bear

  “Witty, compelling, and wise, Sisters One, Two, Three is the kind of novel I always crave but rarely find. Glory Tangle’s relationship with her children, both as kids and as grown ups, is as real as it gets. She’s a fantastic character, a match for the surprises to be found in the perfectly evoked island setting of Martha’s Vineyard. I really loved each of the three sisters, too, and was very nervous for all of them! Nancy Star, thank you so much for the hours I spent in these pages.”

  —Alice Elliott Dark, author of In The Gloaming and Think of England

  “Nancy Star’s gripping novel of mothers and daughters and sisters shows us how we can never escape our families—and why that may be our salvation. Full of surprising twists and deep emotional insights, Sisters One, Two, Three will keep you glued to your beach chair, casting worried glances at those little clouds threatening to gather into a storm. This book will transform the way you see your own family’s past and its future along with the way you experience the power of now.”

  —Pamela Redmond Satran, author of Younger

  “What is it that fascinates us about the bonds between sisters? There have been many great stories about that special bond and this is no exception. Enter the Tangle sisters, held together by love, common experience, and a web of secrets. From cautious Ginger, to adventurous Callie, to busy bee Mimi, you won’t be able to help seeing yourself in this family, the things that pull it apart and ultimately tie it back together. Set some time aside to read this gem; you won’t regret it.”

  —Catherine McKenzie, bestselling author of Hidden and Fractured

  ALSO BY NANCY STAR

  Carpool Diem

  Up Next

  Now This

  Buried Lives

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2017 by Nancy Star

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503937468

  ISBN-10: 1503937461

  Cover design by Janet Perr

  For Larry

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  PART ONE BEFORE AND AFTER

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  PART TWO FROM NOW ON

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  SISTERS ONE, TWO, THREE BOOK CLUB READING GUIDE

  A CONVERSATION WITH NANCY STAR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  Ginger Tangle had nothing against nature. She often stopped to notice the sky, clouds particularly, but also hawks circling and the dissipating puffy trails of planes. But today was different. Today, in the parking lot at the summit of Mount Washington, as she gazed at the granite ledges perched over sheer drops only inches from where her disgruntled teenage daughter stood, what she felt was hypertension. She could hear it, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

  Yes, she had noticed the rough-hewn scenic overlook arrows, so quaint and welcoming as they pointed toward views that, yes, were expansive. But what held her gaze were the chasms. Had no one stopped to consider the possible outcomes of placing photo-op elevation markers and telescopes lined up like promises on top of boulders where the wind often turned hurricane force without warning?

  Was Ginger worried Julia might get blown off by a sudden gale, or, worse, impulsively leap? No, it wasn’t like that. But an overly bold and defiant skip to the edge? An eyes-on-the-phone clumsy stumble and fall? Accidents happened. Ginger knew this better than most.

  The Mount Washington trip had been a last-minute addition to their New England college tour itinerary. An opportunity for family bonding, after what Ginger had predicted would be a long and difficult week.

  Second thoughts had set in at once. Her research confirmed her gut. Her wilderness side-trip idea had possibly fatal flaws. She ticked them off for her husband, Richard. Moose on the roads, bear in the woods, and in the air, according to an alert on the CDC site bookmarked on her computer, mosquito-borne Eastern Equine Encephalitis. As if that wasn’t enough, the weather on the summit was notoriously unpredictable. Snow squalls happened in July.

  Richard saw it a different way. “A moose sighting would be awesome. You already packed bug spray. I checked the weather. It’s going to be hot.”

  Day one of the college tour, Julia, tall and bony, all elbows and knees, exited their car like an awkward shorebird and announced, “No way.” The sun peeking out from between the rolling mountains of Vermont made her red hair look on fire but her mood remained morose. “Middle of nowhere,” she said, from a spot so beautifully landscaped it felt more park than parking lot. “Not going here.”

  Dumbstruck by the way the pink light hit the stone buildings, Ginger had pressed on. “Why don’t you poke around a little before you decide? You never know. Worst-case scenario, you tell your friends at home I was mean to make you look.” Ginger had realized her mistake immediately. Of course Julia would not be sharing this with her friends at home. This was the summer she’d dumped her friends in a trade-down for a boy named Nick.

  Day two, on line at the snack bar of a large university in the middle of Boston, Ginger lost in thought wondering why the frozen yogurt machine was placed alongside the lunch offerings instead of the desserts, Julia had announce
d college wasn’t for everyone. “Some people do better just being out in the world.”

  “You mean no college ever?” Ginger asked. “Or a gap year?”

  Julia stepped off the yogurt line. “Just because you don’t go to college doesn’t mean you don’t have a life.” She headed toward the exit sign.

  Ginger grabbed two bananas, paid for them, and followed her family out.

  That night in their Boston chain hotel, Richard went to the front desk to track down the hypoallergenic pillows the room brochure advertised as available upon request, while Ginger lay in bed staring at the ceiling, a greatest-hits reel featuring Julia’s boyfriend running in a loop through her brain.

  Nick in high school: one year older than Julia. A senior. Did tech for the drama club. Also did music. Sound collage, Julia said, whatever that was. First choice for college, Ringling Brothers Clown School. Plan B if that didn’t work out? There was none. Result of neglecting to find out in a timely way that the clown school no longer existed? A gap year.

  Nick after high school: job right after graduation. Starbucks. Duration of employment, half a day. Reason for termination, according to Julia? Refusal to be fake cheerful. Other refusal, coming to the door to pick Julia up. Preferred parental avoidance technique, texting from the car.

  Ginger’s first sighting of Nick was on a stealth visit to his next job, at an independent coffee shop where fake cheer was not required. She assessed his appeal while on line. Tall, rangy, kind of good-looking, acne that might clear up if he’d keep his hair off his forehead, furniture tack–style earrings creeping up his cartilage—too unpleasant to look at.

  When it was her turn to order, she asked for coffee with room for milk. Her generous interpretation of why Nick overfilled her cup so much that black liquid sloshed on the counter? The place was noisy and the boy couldn’t hear. The time it took for Ginger to figure out what Nick meant, in dollars, when he rang her up and said, “That will be three hundred and fourteen cents”? Just under a minute. Duration of Nick’s independent-coffee-shop job? Four days. Reason for termination, according to Julia? Owner had no sense of humor.

  The hotel room door opened, startling her. Richard was back. No pillow. “Turns out they only have one kind.”

  “Thanks for checking.” She reached for her eyedrops.

  Richard sat down on the chair next to the bed. “Listen, I was thinking. About you and Julia. Maybe it would help if you backed off a little. Not saying it’s your fault. Just—maybe if you back off, she’ll back off.” He shrugged and smiled. “Worth a try?”

  She softened. This was how it went with them. Richard was a congenital optimist who got over things faster than anyone she’d ever known. She was a worrier with a dedicated pitfall-first view of the world. Most of the time, the combination made for good balance. But all the sparring with Julia was starting to wear her down. The balance was not holding.

  Day three, a small liberal arts college in an idyllic Massachusetts town, another no-go. Mission unaccomplished, they piled into the car and set off for their fun overnight. Outside, the sun beat down, but in the car the mood stayed dark. In the distance the inn loomed from the mountaintop like something out of a horror movie.

  Ginger had picked this inn because of its close proximity to good hiking, but it had the additional benefit—she’d learned from the colleague who’d recommended it—of being off the grid, neither cell phones nor Internet a match for the mountains of the Presidential Range.

  Julia cursed from the backseat. Weak service discovered. “My phone has no bars. Does yours have bars?”

  Ginger checked as if she didn’t know. “Nope. But I think we’ll survive. It’s only for twenty-four hours.”

  “What am I supposed to do without a phone?”

  Richard glanced in the rearview mirror. “Bet you anything they have Scrabble.”

  The innkeeper led his silent guests up a crooked flight of stairs to two rooms that felt perfect for slow cooking a roast. Ginger sat on the bed and fanned her face with her hands while Richard moved to open the windows.

  The innkeeper stopped him. “No use doing that now. Mountain air-conditioning is you open the windows at night and close them in the morning. Open them now, it’ll only get worse.” He read Ginger’s expression. “I’ll find you folks a fan.”

  As soon as the innkeeper left, Ginger got up and opened the windows herself. But the hot breeze that lifted up the edge of the doily on the painted dresser brought no relief. She glanced across the hall. Too hot to bother closing her door, Julia lay collapsed on her bed. Ginger could see her daughter’s dirty white sneakers splayed across the nubby blush coverlet.

  Julia had no idea how much bacteria there was on the bottom of shoes. Few people did. Ginger knew this because in addition to being an elementary school nurse, she taught a night class at the Adult School—Nurse Tangle’s Danger Class—and one of the topics she covered was “Hidden Dangers: Shoes and Purses.” Purses were the worst. The places women put them, first on the sink in a public toilet, then on the kitchen counter.

  “Jules, take off your shoes,” Ginger called.

  Julia’s feet came off the bed and her door slammed shut. A moment later it swung back open. She stormed into her parents’ room. “Are you trying to kill me? The thingy on my desk says the Internet is down.”

  “That’s annoying,” Ginger said. “Want to—”

  “No.” This time when Julia slammed her door, it rattled the glass tray that sat atop the dresser doily in her parents’ room.

  At dinnertime, Ginger walked across the hall and knocked. “Jules? We’re going down. Jules?” She pressed her ear to the door. Nothing. She turned the knob and made a mental note to warn her daughter that it was important to lock her door when she went away to college.

  Sleeping, eyes closed, hair fanned out around her head, Julia looked sweet. Did sleep make everyone look sweet? Was she sleeping? Ginger put her palm in front of her daughter’s mouth to feel for breath.

  “What are you doing?” Julia pushed her hand away.

  Ginger laughed at herself. “Making sure you’re alive?”

  Julia blinked and a scrim descended. “Not funny.”

  So this was how it would go. “It’s dinnertime. Dad’s waiting downstairs.”

  “Not hungry.” She shut her eyes hard, the way she did as a child when she wanted something to go away.

  “They stop serving at eight.” Ginger scanned Julia’s face for signs of an eating disorder but saw none. She checked her watch. “I’ll call in twenty minutes. Try not to fall back.”

  “I’m not coming.” She pulled the blanket up over her head.

  “You look like a corpse. Can you even breathe?” No answer. “I give up,” Ginger said—as if that was a possibility—and went down to join Richard at the table set for three.

  In the morning, in the breakfast room on the screened-in porch facing the mountain range, Julia shoveled in her omelet—since when did she like spinach in her eggs?—pushed away her plate, and proposed a change in activity.

  Except Ginger had already mapped out the route to the summit from the parking lot. She had even written down the number of steps from the tunnel to the first viewing platform. Plans like that were not meant to be discarded. “Change to what?”

  “Swimming. That’s what people do when it’s hot. The housekeeping girl told me where to go. She’s my age. She’s so awesome. Look.” She unfolded a trail map. “I got this at the front desk.” She pointed. “Emerald Pond is the closest swimming hole. It’s only a few minutes from where you park. The water is totally clear. You just climb up these big rocks and jump in. Even old people do it. It’s deep,” she added for her mother’s benefit. “So we won’t break our necks. And it’s not the ocean.” This was also for her mother. Ginger did not go in the ocean. Jumping into a mountain pool was something she could conceivably do.

  Except for the part about the big rocks. “No. Top three causes of spinal cord injury? Car crash, gunshot, diving into
mountain pools.” This was more or less true. “It’s a different climate on the summit. Even on a hot day it’s cold. I guarantee you’ll be happy we went.”

  Julia started to protest, but Richard interrupted. “Mom spent a lot of time planning this. How about we give her a chance? You never know. We might have fun.”

  It was a pale attempt at support, Ginger thought, but Julia agreed so she took it.

  When they got to the parking lot, Richard turned off the car and Julia read the temperature gauge on the dashboard. “Only ninety-two degrees. Good work, Mom.”

  “This isn’t the summit,” Ginger said. “You’ll see. It’ll be cold up there.” Outside of the car, she fished around in her backpack and found three hats, blue-and-green beanies she’d bought at a store in North Conway. She put hers on and handed out the others.

  Julia held her hat like it was toxic, thumb and forefinger only. “What is this?”

  Okay. Ginger would try it Richard’s way. Back off. Ignore the bait. Ignore the question. “See the walkway? It’s just past that bus.”

  Julia pressed her lips together. She pressed them so hard, they seemed to disappear.

  “What?” Ginger heard the bite in her voice and tried again, kinder. “What?”

  Julia turned to her father. “It’s ninety degrees. I’m supposed to wear a wool hat that looks like the Earth. Mom snaps at me—What?—and then pretends she has no idea what’s wrong.”

  It was a perfect and stinging imitation. “The hat is for wind,” Ginger explained. “Summer weight. The man at the store said.”

  “The man at the store was deranged, and if you think I’m putting that on my head, you’re deranged.” Julia got back in the car.

  Ginger felt Richard come close behind her. He gave her a hug and spoke into her hair. “Please, let it go.” At work he was a bulldog, fearless and resolute, but at home Richard could not tolerate confrontation. This, Ginger suspected, was a side effect of his having lost both parents at a young age. Sudden deaths—car accident for his mother, heart attack for his father—preceded by garden-variety arguments about tracking mud on a clean floor and forgetting to pick up a rotisserie chicken for dinner, arguments where no one got a chance to make up. Loss and all that went with it was something Ginger understood.