The Pretty One: A Novel About Sisters Read Online Free PDF Page A

was wearing a pink button-down oxford and pressed jeans with a belt. “Mike,” she said—and found herself blinking into the glare, courtesy of a brilliant midwinter sun blasting through a newly installed picture window. (Perri was constantly “upgrading” their already flawless home.) “Happy two thousand whatever this is,” Olympia went on, her head aching. The pain may have had something to do with the mystery punch she’d helped herself to the night before at a loft party in Dumbo thrown by friends of friends. She hadn’t been all that keen on going—what if her friends didn’t show up and she didn’t know a soul there?—but the New Year’s invitations had been scarce this year, possibly owing to the fact that nearly all of her old friends were now married with small children and seemingly happy to “stay in.” This was partly thanks to Olympia, who, not long before, had successfully introduced the last two single people in her addressbook, figuring that, if she couldn’t manage to be happy in love, she might as well bring joy to others and live vicariously.
    Not that Olympia lacked for male attention. In fact, just the previous night, a handsome young Web entrepreneur had approached her by the drinks table and asked her in an ironic way if she believed in astrology and, if so, would it bother her when she found out he was a Scorpio. But after two minutes of flirting, Olympia had shied away, claiming she needed to use the bathroom. She couldn’t precisely say why—the Web guy was charming in his way—but she’d been struck by a familiar sense that there was no point in pursuing things since she was sure to mess them up eventually. Or maybe it was that she was never quite interested enough; or didn’t feel she had the time for a relationship; or thought whoever it was would flee once he found out she was the mother of a young child; or felt uncomfortable bringing strange men back to her apartment, especially since Lola didn’t have her own bedroom. “Rough New Year’s Eve?” said Mike, who never seemed to miss a single expression on her face.
    “Could have been rougher. What about yours?” said Olympia who, after ten-plus years, had grown almost but not quite fond of her brother-in-law’s frat boy banter. She’d also grown fond of trying to outdo him. He and Perri had hooked up her junior and his senior year at Wharton, where both had been in the undergraduate business program. Save for one nine-month breakup during which time Perri either had or hadn’t slept with someone else—Olympia had never gotten a definitive answer—they’d been together ever since. “Rumor has it that there was some serious brewski pounding in the ’burbs last night,” she went on in a dry tone.
    “You could say that.” Mike smiled congenially before he went back to his salmon slicing.
    Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. “It must be Auggie,” said Carol, popping out of the kitchen, followed by Perri. Carol was the only one who still called Augusta by her childhood nickname, the rest of them having shifted to the high school–era moniker Gus.
    “I’ll get it,” said Perri, practically elbowing their mother in the face as she made for the front door, spatula in hand.
    There were footsteps, muffled voices, the gentle thud of a knapsack hitting the floor. “Where’s Debbie?” Olympia heard Carol ask her.
    “She couldn’t make it.”
    “She didn’t get arrested again, did she?”
    “No, she didn’t get arrested again.”
    “So, where is she?”
    “Jesus. Can I have five minutes before being subjected to the Spanish Inquisition?!”
    “I was just asking!”
    “You’re always just asking…”
    Carol and Gus bickered endlessly. Olympia, in turn, grew tired of listening to her mother complain during their own once- or twice-weekly phone calls about how mean Gus had been to her. (Suggestions that Carol mind her own business and, what’s more, that she and Gus didn’t have to talk on the