The Lucy Variations Read Online Free PDF Page B

some tinted lip balm. There were perfume samples in her bathroom drawer but nothing she liked. In the closet she vacillated between two outfits. The first: a blue-and-cream polka-dot dress that was sort of fifties-looking; her go-to dress, comfortable and flattering. The other: a simple black sheath.
    The polka dots seemed overly cheerful, given her mood, so she went with the sheath. A jade-green cardigan would pep it up a little.
    She checked the wardrobe mirror. Boring but appropriate.
    The older sister, not the star.
    She was getting used to it.
    At the last minute, she put on the
L
pendant her dad had given her, then thought,
Time to face the music
, and laughed at her own stupid joke.

 
    Voices came from the parlour. Grandpa Beck would be serving cocktails right about now. Lucy could picture him, wearing his signature bow tie, his full, white hair brushed back and sprayed with the old-fashioned stuff he got at the barber’s he went to every week. He’d smell chemical from that and also like Chanel Pour Monsieur and gin martinis.
    She slipped into the kitchen first, in search of Martin. Seeing him always helped her feel grounded. Normally he was off on Sundays, but no way would her mother suddenly become a gourmet cook who could handle a dinner party. Instead of Martin Lucy found two guys and a frazzled-looking woman in green aprons, hustling around the kitchen island. “Oh,” she said, just as Martin came up from the cellar holding a couple of bottles of wine.
    He set the wine on the counter and came over to Lucy. “Hi, doll. Do you need something? It’s a little crowded in here right now.”
    “Caterers?” she whispered. “Really?”
    “That was my call,” Martin said. “Apparently they’re vegans. I didn’t know what to make! They don’t even eat
cheese
, Lucy.”
    “I can’t believe Grandpa knowingly hired a vegan.” He thought vegans were sitting in judgement of everyone else. Vegans didn’t bathe, he thought. Vegans didn’t pay taxes.
    “The old man is full of surprises.” Martin lifted Lucy’s chin with two fingers and studied her face. “You look beautiful. Chic. You’d better get out there and join the fun.”
    They were all in a semicircle, their backs to the doorway. Looking at Wilhelm Furtwängler’s conductor’s baton. Of course. It was the first thing Grandpa Beck showed new guests. He had a whole elaborate story about it, involving a spontaneous flight to Berlin for the auction and the trouble he had getting the huge amount of cash he needed from the foreign bank. Based on where he was in the story now, pretty soon he’d say,
I outbid a very good friend of mine, and he hasn’t talked to me since!
Followed by hearty laughter, like that was hilarious.
    Also he was somehow able to say “Furtwängler” with a straight face, every time.
    Lucy stared at their backs, feeling like a party crasher.
    Gus had on his school blazer and khakis, his curls damp from the shower. Her dad was in his charcoal fitted suit. Will’s wife, Aruna, wore her hair in a glossy black braid that trailed almost to her waist. Her dress was floatier and softer than anything in Lucy’s mother’s wardrobe, semi-boho. Will’s hand rested just below the tip of his wife’s braid, and Lucy tracked her eyes up his sweatered arm, to his neck, to the back of his head. He seemed so relaxed. That would end soon enough; he had no idea what he was in for, working here, with the Beck-Moreaus.
    Then he glanced over his shoulder that way you do, absently, when you think there might be something to see if you only look. His eyes, behind wire-rimmed glasses, met Lucy’s. She lifted her hand in a way meaning both
Hello
and also
Interrupt Grandpa Beck at your peril
.
    He didn’t pick up on the second meaning.
    He turned all the way around, dropping his hand, and said – right as Grandpa Beck was going to announce exactly how much he’d paid for the baton – “Lucy.”
    Everyone else turned, too, all but Will and Gus