Rosaline

“Valerie and Charity, Nicholas and Damien.” I cross off the names on the starchy white paper as I continue scanning the list. “And John and Carter. Joy and Diana.” I cross those names off the list too. “Isaiah and Ransom. And…” I search for the last name. The name that perhaps matters the most.

“Rosaline.” I put down the pen after circling the name.

It’s her. It has to be her. I’ve looked into the rest of my cousins, but they’ve all led me to dead ends. And besides with the way she’s been acting as of late, she’s hiding something. I know she is. 

But now that I’ve come to this conclusion, what to do?

Well, starting on the cookies is probably the best idea. Then of course, there’s still the living room that has to be tidied, as well as the bubble bath and clean dress waiting for me upstairs.

And of course, all of it has to be taken care of in the next 3 hours.

Excellent.

****

About 2 hours and 45 minutes later I’m waiting by the front door, hair brushed and washed, dress fitted and pressed, living room clean and book scattered free, and chocolate marshmallow cookies cooling in a small basket on the kitchen table.

It’s the perfect plan, and yet there are a number of details that could go wrong.

“Rosaline is your sister.” I mutter to myself as I straighten the vase of geraniums and baby’s breath on the side table. “And even though she may be caught up in the case with Grandmother, she is still family. And you still love her, and she still loves you.”

Satisfied with the room and the potted flowers throughout I turn back to the door--only to hear the knocker pounded against the wood.

I almost jump, and quickly race to it, give my reflection a once over in the small mirror by the closet, then throw open the door.

A smiling face and wild curls meet me.

“Holly Jolly!” Valerie exclaims, her eyes bright as she wraps me into a one armed hug, the other balancing the platter of gingersnaps. 

A few tilt to the side and I quickly push them back onto the platter as I lean into her embrace, smiling at the mention of her childhood nickname for me.

“It’s good to see you after so long, Val.” I pat her mass of fiery curls as she pulls away.

“And same to you Jolly Holly!” She bustles by me, scanning the room as she goes. “Your place looks great! I can’t believe it’s been 6 years since I last saw it.”

“Much too long.” I agree, shutting the door and swooping by her to take her plate of cookies.

“But it’ll be good to have everyone back together.” She follows me to the kitchen and takes a seat in one of the grand old chairs as I set down her platter.

“When was the last time you talked to everyone?” I ask, pouring her a mug of tea. “Because for me it’s been ages.”

“Oh, the same. Thank you.” Valerie starts piling sugar into her mug as she continues. “I spoke to John and Joy last week, but that was only because I was asking them whether or not they were coming together. It’s good that everyone is able to come, especially your sister.” Valerie looks up as she says it. “I know how weird she’s gotten since Grandmother’s death. Maybe seeing the family again will be good for her.”

I nod along, but I can’t help questioning Valerie’s words.

Does she suspect Rosaline of something too? But no, none of my other cousins are as curious or questioning as me. When we were younger I would always get in trouble for being so. 

Not that very much has changed since then.

But as I listen to Valerie chatter on about her life and work, my suspicion dies down. She seems exactly like her usual vivacious self, so perhaps there’s nothing to look further into on her.

Although sometimes it’s always the ones you least suspect that are capable of doing the most damage.

I’m quite sure that Rosaline is the culprit, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering about all my other guests. How they each have the capacity to have done away with Grandmother.

The next 20 minutes pass by in a bit of a blur, with my getting up every few moments or so to open the door for the next guests.

Carter had come next with a plate of ice white sugar cookies to match his nearly ice white hair, soon followed by Diana with her container of cookies nearly the opposite--double chocolate to match her thick dark hair and brows.

The door knocker had continued to be knocked upon shortly after, so the four of us moved our conversation to the foyer where I had welcomed in cousin after cousin.

Joy and John, the only twins in the family, had come together, each of them bearing a platter full of macarons, Joy’s a soft pink, and John’s a honey gold.

Damien had soon followed with a container full of peanut butter cookies, then Isaiah with oatmeal chocolate chip, and Nicholas with a multitude of brightly coloured shortbread cookies.

Charity came next with gingerbread cookies, exclaiming that ‘even though they’re in the shape of gingerbread men, they’re still cookies! You’re just jealous because your cookies are boring!’ to Isaiah, always the nit-picking older brother.

Their brother Ransom had soon followed, apologizing several times about how poor the traffic in the city was, and bearing a platter full of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.

“It’s alright.” I assure him, guiding him to the kitchen where the rest of the cousins are. “We’re still waiting on one more person anyways.”

“Figures,” Damien mutters. “Of course Rosaline is nearly an hour late.”

“It’s only been 10 minutes since you got here.” Joy points out, taking a bite out of a cookie from his platter. “And your peanut butter is chewy.”

“So is your macaron filling.”

“The yellow ones are mine, not Joy’s.” John snaps.

“Whoops, my bad Jo.” Damien says. “Then the filing is pretty good.”

Joy rolls her eyes, and everyone melts back into chatter.

“It was nice of you to invite Rosaline, Holly.” Diana says, sinking into the chair beside mine. “We haven’t seen her in so long. But then again, I haven’t seen you either.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that everyone has been so--”

“Busy?” Diana gives me a knowing smile as she takes my cookie from its basket. “It’s a shame. I remember how we used to run around playing Princesses and Ponies.” Diana chuckles, biting into the cookie. “We were--”

“Seven.” I smile, slipping into the memory of me and Diana outside her parents house, her mother, telling us to be careful as we made a break for the park, trying to outrun Nicholas who they had sent after us.

“Princesses and Ponies.” Nicholas himself muses coming around the table. “I remember that one. I was always a knight in shining armour coming to rescue my dear sister and cousin when they got into trouble.”

Diana frowns at him. “You were never a knight--”

The door knocker cuts her off.

My heart sputters into an erratic racing in my chest.

“Should I get it?” Isaiah offers. “Or are your feet glued to that floor Holly? I don’t blame you, I’m pretty sure Ransom spilled his drink there.”

“C’mon man, it was an accident.” Ransom says, then he turns to me. “I cleaned it up, you saw me, didn’t you Hol?”

“Oh, shush!” Valerie chides them. “Do you want me to open it?” She turns her wide eyed gaze to me.

“No, no.” I’m already moving towards the front door, ignoring the ridiculous pounding of my chest as I do. “It’s only proper for me to do so, since I’m the host.”

The chatter behind me seems to fade away even faster as I reach the door and with trembling ringed hands I undo the latch.

I pry open the door, almost scared that I’ll see a changed face, a different one than that of the one I grew up with. As if whatever Rosaline most likely did to Grandmother permanently changed her, as if that change would be something I could see physically.

But I can’t of course.

Because standing there, looking for all the world exactly how I last saw her--is Rosaline.

Her short brown hair is the same colour as her eyes. Her affinity for blacks and blues is still evident, and even her small smile as she holds up her platter--brown and gold kiss cookies--is the same.

Her voice too as she says, “Hey Holly. Can I come in?” 

I try not to gape as I nod and hold open the door, stepping aside to let the chill winter air enter along with my sister.

It’s just now dawned on me that I haven’t seen her in years. 

Rosaline. 

The sister who I raised as if she were my daughter, the same one I would huddle under the covers with, the same one who almost burned down our kitchen with her chicken noodle soup. 

The same one that killed Grandmother.

Potentially, I have to remind myself as I close the door and wave her to the kitchen where everyone else is. Only potentially.

Charity exclaims in delight when she sees Rosaline, and the room bursts with a wave of new voices as Rosaline sets down her platter and begins to talk with the rest of our cousins.

I don’t know how long I huddle in the corner for, or how long I simply stand holding my mug of cooling tea, and one of Carter’s sugar cookies.

“Hiding from the world again, are we Hol?” Carter himself is beside me, his icy eyes bright with amusement.

“Not hiding.” I force a smile. “Simply observing.”

“That’s the same thing you said at the wedding. ‘Simply observing’.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know if you meant the dessert table or the rest of the family crowded around it.”

“A little bit of both.” I mutter into my mug as I take a sip of tea. 

The flavour brings me back to Carter’s wedding, a warm summer evening that smelled of honey and roses mixed with dawning twilight.

“Although I think the cake was the best.” The memory flutters to the surface of my mind and I can’t help my small smile, mirrored on Carter’s face. “The people there were nothing short of the best either though. How’s Dave?”

“Well and good. He wanted to come but…” Carter trails off into the story of how his slowly blooming family is, and I offer him what bare details I can about my life too.

All the while I keep an eye on the room, and my cousins walking in and out of it. 

John, Joy, and Damien have retreated to the sitting room to play a game of cards, Diana, Valerie and Nicholas are deep in conversation near the window, Isaiah and Ransom are hovering near the side table where I’ve placed everyone’s platters of cookies, and standing near them, Charity is showing pictures of something in a little book to Rosaline who is smiling in delight.  

I know I have to make my way over to them and confront Rosaline, while also disentangling myself from my conversation with Carter.

Luckily he seems to understand. With a mutter about using the bathroom he slips off, leaving me to make my move.

I head towards Charity and Rosaline, who, just as I approach, mutters something to Charity and slips away.

“Holly!” Charity throws her sleek hair over her shoulder and reaches out to take my hands, setting down her tiny book of photos. 

I can only watch in dismay as my chance of talking to Rosaline fades with her retreating figure. But Charity’s smile is so bright and I haven’t seen her in so long that it’s only fitting that she gets my full attention before I track down my sister.

“Charity!” I squeeze her hands in return. “Are you well? How’s Philip? And your little Connor? He’s a year old now? Where did Rosaline go?”

“What’s this, Holly? You’re no longer shy?” Charity mocks. “My baby cousin is finally talking to the best cousin about something!”  

I can’t help my surprised blush at her teasing, but it quickly fades as Charity launches into a speech about her family, showing me the photos in her book to accompany it. 

She’s well yes, and so is Philip and their son Connor, who is a year and 2 months, and Rosaline just went to the bathroom, and it’s so good to see me again, and now that she came to visit this tiny charming townhouse I have to come visit hers.

I can barely keep up with her quick pace, it’s so much like Valerie’s, so much like Grandmother’s, that I’ve barely got two words in when she jumps to the next topic. 

She’s talked about so many different ones that I don’t even know what to say in turn. And I certainly don’t know now that I can see Rosaline leaving the bathroom, starting towards us, then making a beeline away from me and Charity as she spots us talking together.

“Hang on, if you could just excuse me for a minute--” I squeeze Charity’s hands one final time, then pry myself away from her and towards Rosaline, heading towards the dark lights of the dining room.

I can’t help but narrow my eyes. 

It’s almost as if she wants me to follow her. I can’t help but oblige, following her into the dark room, closing the door gently with a click behind me.

****

“You know.” Rosaline whispers softly into the darkness. “Don’t you?”

She turns to look at me, and through the soft slivers of moonlight cutting lines across her face I can truly see her worry. Her panic. 

Her sorrow.

The bright smile and pronounced cheer was all an act I can see now. Something is truly wrong. 

“Grandmother.” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “You killed her, didn’t you? The coroner ruled out suspicious circumstances but I--”

“Didn’t believe it?” Rosaline’s lips twist upwards into a fretful smile. “I didn’t think you would. I blame all those mystery novels you love.”

I stare at her for a moment and she stares back. 

The words I planned to say--I need to say--are a lumpy ball in my mouth and I can’t entangle them. I can only manage one word.

“Why?”

Rosaline sighs, pulling out one of the grand mahogany chairs and sits down in it with a ruffle of silk. “Would you believe me if I told you it was an accident?” She says after a moment.

I pull out the chair beside hers and tug it ever so slightly towards my sister, so we’re facing one another.

“I would hear whatever it is you would have to say. Just--just tell me why Rose.”

“It--” She shakes her head, and I think her shoulders are actually shaking with unshed tears. “It was only supposed to knock her out for a little bit. That stupid tonic I bought off the guy. It was only supposed to be long enough for me to--” She breaks into a sob.

That little bottle she had sticking out of her purse that day Grandmother died…

We were all huddled around the door outside her room. It had smelled of old perfume and...apricots. Usually the smell would go unnoticed because Grandmother loved her plants, but when you’ve worked in greenhouses for part of your life you know all about the plants. Which ones are able to survive the winter, thrive the best in summer, and of course, which ones are poisonous. 

“Oleander.” I mutter.

Then I turn back to Rosaline. “Long enough for you to do what?” I ask gently.

“Rewrite the will.” She mutters. “That will. I did it all for the will--for us--and yet she still left everything to that orphanage. I wanted to change it so at least a part of the money went to us. To the family. But I didn’t even have the courage to change the writing after I had--” She sobs again. “After I killed her.”

Ah. So that’s it.

Grandmother had indeed left a will all those years ago, and not a penny had gone to us. A smart move on her part. And a generous one too. 

Those children need the money. We don’t.

And Grandmother was smart. Perhaps she could see something like this happening in the future--her twelve grandchildren squabbling over money until someone gets caught in the crossfire. But she had before the fighting had even begun. 

“Shh.” I reach forward, and Rosaline’s head is already falling against my shoulder. “Shhh, Rose. We’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

“No I won’t!” She shakes her head against my chest, hairpins tumbling into my lap. “I killed her Hol. I murdered Grandmother!”

I gently pry her off my chest and move her backwards, until I’m looking into her big deep eyes, filling with tears and spilling onto her freckled skin. 

“Rosaline. Listen to me. Grandmother died and that cannot be undone. But her death is not entirely on your hands, do you understand?” I wipe a tear off her face, trying to hold back my own. “You’re a good person who made a terrible mistake. But you don’t have to deal with that mistake on your own.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, another tear sliding down her cheek.

“You won’t carry the burden alone.” I say, pulling her close to my chest again. 

“No?” She mutters, leaning her head on my shoulder. “How should it be carried?”

I press her close, hating and loving my sister all at the same time. 

“Together.” I whisper.