I glanced over my shoulder just once, drying my hands, and saw my father already drifting toward sleep in his chair — but Victoria sitting bolt upright, very still, watching him with an attention I mistook for boredom.

I know now it was the opposite. I had just watched my sister take receipt of her orders.

And I turned back to the sink and rinsed the last pan and went up to bed.

My father did forget it by morning. Victoria never did. She heard those words as a mission — a sacred, permanent assignment — and from that night forward, though it would take me twelve years to understand it, my sister began, patiently and coldly, to make sure that the one who couldn’t hold her family together was me.

Chapter 5 — The Quiet War

Oakridge was worth several million dollars, but I don’t think the money was ever really the point for Victoria.

The house was a trophy.