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called You Can Survive Anything . She’d even been on local radio stations being interviewed about it. Little Abby, meanwhile, was growing up happy and healthy—and smart, too: Monica had been impressed when she was already reading words at the age of three. Now Jessie had been signed to another book contract, and Abby was getting ready to start kindergarten. Monica had believed her sister was doing fine, and that she’d live out her life in New York. They’d see each other occasionally at holiday times. That would be it.
    But then Jessie had announced she wanted to move back in to their mother’s house, which had sat empty since Mom’s death, up on top of the hill at the very end of the cul-de-sac. Both girls had inherited it, but Todd had never wanted to live there, not liking its old Victorian floorboards and creaky stairs. That was why they’d built this modern place of spun glass and marble. Monica had figured eventually they’d sell Mom’s house, and the small parcel of land it stood on. But Jessie wanted to live there. She said she wanted Abby to grow up and go to school just like she had in Sayer’s Brook.
    Monica wasn’t happy that her sister would now be her neighbor. Not that she had to worry anymore about the kind of criminals and thugs Jessie had once associated with; she had seemed, these last five years, to have sworn off men entirely. She was a successful author now, and a happy, devoted mother of a beautiful daughter. If Monica was being honest with herself, and she was being brutally so right now, she’d acknowledge that Abby was the real reason she didn’t want Jessie living next door.
    That, and the fact that her sister looked damn good again—and Todd was sure to notice. In her heart of hearts, Monica worried that, for all his disdain of Jessie’s bohemian lifestyle, Todd might still be hot for the girl he’d dumped in high school.
    â€œJessie, honey, welcome home!”
    Aunt Paulette’s voice came lilting in from outside.
    Monica watched as Jessie stepped out of the backseat of the car, the sun catching the gold in her hair. Right behind her little Abby came scrambling, her golden ringlets a match of her mother’s. The little girl ran straight into Aunt Paulette’s outstretched arms.
    In that moment, Monica hated her sister more than she had ever loved her.
    Stretching her lips into a tight smile, she headed outside to welcome Jessie home.

T WO
    â€œT he neighborhood still looks the same,” Jessie was saying, as she, Abby, Monica, Todd, Aunt Paulette, and Abby’s nanny, Inga, headed up the hill to Mom’s house, each of them carrying a suitcase. Even Abby lugged a little bag, though hers was filled with dolls. “Does Mrs. Gorin still live across the street?”
    â€œSure does,” Todd replied, as he hauled Jessie’s heaviest bag. “And she’s as nosy a bitch as ever.”
    â€œHush, Todd,” Monica scolded. “Voices carry.”
    â€œI found her once peering into my back window,” Aunt Paulette said, a mountain of Jessie’s clothes draped over one arm. “Gert claimed she’d tried ringing the doorbell, but I knew she just wanted to catch me casting spells or stirring my witch’s cauldron.”
    â€œAre you a witch, Aunt Paulette?” Abby asked, her little pink face looking up at the older woman.
    â€œNo, sweetie, but some of the neighbors think I am.”
    â€œWhy do they think that? You don’t wear a black pointy hat like Elphaba.”
    â€œWell, I have a pink pointy one that I’ll show you one of these days!”
    â€œThat’s like Glinda’s!” Abby exclaimed.
    Jessie grinned and looked over at her sister. “I took Abby to see Wicked five times. She loved the show.”
    â€œYou’re going to miss being able to do things like that,” Monica told her, “now that you’re not in the city