Lauren Perkins's red Porsche looked as out of place in the
parking lot of the Bricksville Correctional Institution's
psychiatric ward as it did in Perkins, Massachusetts, the
small town her family had founded. She pulled into a spot
that might as well have had her name on it, she was here so
often. She waved to the guard and walked to the old building
where her sister was being held, bypassing the construction
site of a new wing. After six months, she recognized some of
the men in hard hats, and as usual, a select few eyed Lauren
and her car with a sleazy combination of envy and lust. The
only thing missing was catcalls, but since the actual prison
was only a few hundred yards away, she assumed it kept them
on their best behavior.
Lauren stopped short of flipping the men the bird. She had
held her own in Third World countries and in the Garment
Center of Manhattan. Not much could make her uneasy, but
this place did, and she hated like hell having to be here.
Thanks to her sister Mary Beth and her antics, Lauren had no
choice. She consoled herself with the promise that her visit
to the prison would be like her trip to her grandmother's home.
Short and to the point.
Paris was waiting and nothing was going to keep her from
being there in person when her dress designs debuted under
the Galliano label. She'd sold the designs, so now she was
free for the few weeks she needed to restore her
grandmother's old Victorian into salable condition. Then she
would fly to Paris and watch the fashion show in person. And
pray her designs succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.
Haute Couture Fashion Week in Paris was every designer's
goal and Lauren had been gearing herself up for this for the
past five years. After taking fashion classes in the city,
working odd jobs to pay for them, and designing at night,
she'd earned this chance. Though she was torn between her
good fortune and her sister's situation, there wasn't
anything else she could do for Beth that she wasn't already
doing.
She'd had to uproot herself in order to focus on her
grandmother's house because, as usual, her parents felt
their humanitarian efforts were more important than Lauren's
materialistic pursuits. Never mind that those
pursuits had amounted to a successful career.
Her parents had never understood why Lauren and Beth hadn't
shared their calling. Not even Beth's breakdown had caused
them to put their work helping others on hold. They'd only
visited their daughter, diagnosed as "unresponsive" by her
doctors, once since she'd been incarcerated for arson, among
other charges.
Lauren still couldn't understand her sister's actions. For
reasons trapped in Beth's mind, she'd attempted to burn down
a building full of innocent people about a year ago.
According to Beth's own hysterical explanation, the police
claimed that she'd been attempting to hang on to the Perkins
family's declining power. Since many townspeople had come
forward with tales of how her now deceased grandmother, the
longtime mayor, had consolidated her power using blackmail
and other forms of fear and manipulation, it wasn't a
stretch to think Beth, her grandmother's loyal assistant,
had followed in her footsteps.
Lauren had had no idea how mentally ill her sister had
become and felt guilty that she'd been too busy with her own
life to notice. As for her grandmother's mental state prior
to her death, Lauren didn't have a clue. Except for
occasional visits to her sister, Lauren hadn't had a
relationship with the older woman in years.
Lauren did know firsthand about her grandmother's ability to
control and manipulate. But Mary Perkins was gone, having
passed away in the aftermath of Beth's arson attempt. She'd
had a fatal heart attack while awaiting trial for her own
crimes. And Beth continued to stare at the walls here in
Psych Central.
Lauren visited her sister at least once a month, more often
when she could. Revolving her life around Beth's wasn't much
different from their childhood. Lauren had always taken care
of her younger sister. Older by five years, she had been
Beth's mother, father and authority figure as they grew up,
because their parents had no time for them. Though the
sisters were close back then, Beth had still been a handful.
Even at twenty-seven years old, Lauren was still cleaning up
her sister's messes.
She quickly crossed the parking lot and proceeded to the
first checkpoint. Lauren hated the prison grounds. Even
though Beth was in a separate building from the prison
itself, Lauren detested the depressing psychiatric ward. But
she hoped that by visiting Beth and keeping her aware of the
outside world, her sister would recover faster.
Today Beth sat upright instead of lying in bed, but nothing
else had changed. Before her breakdown, Beth had been a
stickler for perfection, if not fashion—that was Lauren's
forte and orange had always been her favorite color. But
after seeing her sister in the fluorescent prison hue back
when she'd originally been processed, Lauren had pulled the
color from her portfolio. Beth now wore institutional gray
with bold writing on the back, an outfit that would have
horrified their grandmother. Something Lauren never
mentioned to Beth.
Why upset her sister, who'd eagerly earned Mary Perkins's
approval in a way Lauren never had. While Beth had pleased
Mary, Lauren's one teenage indiscretion had
isolated her from her grandmother. Lauren didn't care. That
summer with Jason Corwin had been worth risking her
grandmother's wrath.
Since Beth remained docile, she was never handcuffed for
their visits, although guards patrolled the hall outside the
room and a nurse regularly checked in.
"Hi, Beth. How are you today?" Lauren asked in a cheery voice.
No reply, not that Lauren had expected one.
Beth stared straight ahead, her hair hanging in her face.
The once perfect, if conservative, bob had grown out,
leaving her looking unkempt. The gray outfit didn't help her
pale skin. Sometimes Lauren wondered if holding a mirror to
her sister's face would shock her out of her unresponsive state.
Lauren cleared her throat. Trying not to fidget, she placed
her hands in her lap. "Remember last week I told you I'd be
staying at Grandma's house? Well, I've been in for a couple
of days and I'll stay there until closing on December first."
Beth's eyelashes fluttered up and down.
Lauren had no way of knowing what her sister heard or
understood. The prison psychiatrist encouraged Lauren to
talk to Beth about the familiar and about Lauren's life. As
if Beth were fine. So she chattered away, feeling like an
idiot talking to herself but doing it anyway.
"As long as I get the house into what the buyers consider
move-in condition, the closing will go off without a hitch."
Afterward, she'd have two weeks to return to New York and
get herself packed and ready for Paris.
Assuming she closed. The offer she had was conditional and
the deadline was only four short weeks away. The renovation
wouldn't be as easy a task as she'd first hoped. The house
had been empty for the past year, held up in probate. On
Lauren's arrival she'd discovered it was in worse condition
than she'd anticipated. It seemed her grandmother had been
more concerned with outward appearances, putting money into
superficial aesthetics without fixing the structural
problems that came with age. Between the general dilapidated
condition, the holes in the walls from vandals or
pranksters, and the old pipes and plumbing, Lauren's limited
budget would be stretched. She hoped to find a contractor
who was hurting enough to take on her project at a
reasonable price.
She drew a deep breath and forged on. "The broker said the
potential buyers are a nice family. They're moving from
overseas and have no time to do the renovating themselves.
In this market, I'm lucky to have them interested. I have to
finish the repairs in the next month or they won't take
possession and then what are the chances I'll ever find
another buyer?"
A feeling of déjà vu overtook her and Lauren suspected she'd
told Beth the same thing last week. But who knew? Beth loved
her grandmother's old house. If there had been money left in
the estate after the debts and her grandmother's lawyer
bills, Lauren knew Beth would have wanted to keep the place,
but that wasn't possible. There was no alternative now but
to sell. By keeping Beth aware of the situation, Lauren
hoped to trigger something inside her sister's mind.
Suddenly, the sound of hammering and sawing came from right
outside Beth's window and Lauren tensed.
"Not again." For the last six months, Lauren's visits had
been disturbed by construction of the new wing.
Beth's eyes flashed and a tick seemed to pull at one side of
her mouth.
She was obviously upset and Lauren didn't blame her. The
noise level was hard to take and Lauren didn't see how
patients could heal in this environment, let alone hear
themselves think.
She patted her sister's hand. "Let's try to ignore the
noise," she said, pointing to the barred window and the
construction beyond. No sooner had she spoken than drilling
suddenly accompanied the hammering. Beth, who already seemed
agitated, flushed and her eyes widened. Even Lauren was
getting a headache.
"Excuse me," Lauren said to the nurse who had come in
earlier, shuffling papers and making notations on her chart.
"Isn't there anything you can do about the noise? It's
upsetting my sister."
The young woman shook her head. "I'm sorry, but until they
finish there's nothing we can do."
Lauren frowned. "I know. They aren't patients in a private
facility. They're prisoners living on the state's dollar and
taxpayers' dime, so let them suffer."
The nurse placed a comforting hand on Lauren's shoulder. "If
it's any consolation, she normally doesn't seem to mind the
noise."
"I suppose I ought to be grateful she's reacting at all." At
the thought, Lauren rose from her chair. "Do you think it's
a sign?" she asked, excited at the prospect of seeing some
change in her sister's condition.
Again, the nurse shook her head. "This is just a normal
reaction. Try not to get your hopes up." Her voice was kind.
Lauren exhaled hard and settled back into her seat.
As she studied her silent sister, she wondered whether even
Beth thought that the price of believing in the Corwin Curse
to its destructive conclusion had been worth the price she'd
paid.
The Corwin Curse.
At best, Lauren thought it was a bedtime story her
grandmother liked to tell. At worst, she figured it was the
Perkins family's way to instill a sense of self-importance
in its future generations.
To hear her grandmother tell it, the first Mary Perkins, an
ancestor from the Salem Witch Trial days, had placed a curse
on William Corwin and all of his male descendants in
retribution for eloping with her son's fiancée. All Corwin
men who fell in love were doomed to lose their love and
their fortune. Whether by coincidence or circumstance, the
curse had held true for the male descendants down the Corwin
line. Yet she'd heard from her friend Sharon that Jason
Corwin's two male cousins were currently married and
attempting to buck the curse.
More power to them, Lauren thought.
As for herself, she hadn't believed in the curse at
seventeen, when she'd met and fallen for Jason during a
summer visit to her grandmother's. But Mary Perkins had, and
when she'd read Lauren's diary entries about sneaking out to
see Jason, she'd launched into a tirade Lauren would never
forget. She'd forbidden Lauren to see that Corwin boy ever
again and sent her back to her parents in Sierra Leone as
quickly as possible.
Lauren had lost her grandmother's trust and approval from
that day on and she'd never gained it back. Not that she'd
ever really tried. She'd been too angry at her banishment.