My legs are actually shaking as we approach the seaside mansion, it's white walls gleaming in the sun. I can hear the ocean, but it's a distant sound, and not comforting at all. Eric didn't say anything on the drive here, and he drove so fast I was afraid we'd crash more than once.

A middle-aged maid wearing a black and white uniform opens the front door for us.

"I can find my own way," Eric barks at her when she tries to lead us across the foyer to the back patio. My legs get heavier and heavier as the sound of people conversing and laughing grows louder.

And then we're outside again, the most beautiful garden I've ever seen stretching before me, the ocean glinting in the distance.

"Eric, I was afraid you wouldn't be joining us," a woman's slightly raspy voice reaches us.

A smile is covering Eric's face as he turns to her, but I see right through it—it's as plastic as the cheapest lawn chair.

"Fiona! Happy birthday!" he exclaims, drawing her into a hug and kissing both her cheeks though his lips don't actually touch her skin. "I wouldn't miss your party for the world."

She's a tall, skinny lady, with a hairdo that looks more like a neatly manicured bush than a hairstyle. The color of her hair reminds me of the dry bushes that grow around my home in the desert.

"And this is?" she asks, turning to face me. And freezes. I've heard the expression that someone looks like they've seen a ghost, but I've never actually witnessed it. Until now.

"This is Joy," Eric says, completely unfazed by her reaction to me. "My date for today."

I offer the woman my hand, but she's not even looking at me anymore. She's glaring at Eric, her chin shaking.

"Why would you do this, Eric?" she whispers. "Today of all days?"

I realize I’m still holding out my hand to shake hers and I snatch it away, grasping it with the other one and holding both against my stomach. There was something so pitiful in her voice, I want to cry. It's not effecting Eric the same way at all, since the look in his dark eyes is mocking, bordering on hate.

"Pull it together, Fiona," he whispers. "You don't want to make a scene."

Then he turns to me, his eyes simply mocking, his default look.

"Come on, Joy," Eric says. "I'll get you a drink."

Then he's leading me away, but I still feel Fiona's eyes boring into my back.

"She looked like she recognized me," I whisper to Eric once we're far enough away so she can't overhear.

"How could she?" Eric says, snatching two glasses of champagne off a tray a waitress is holding out, and handing me one. "Now go mingle, there are some people here I need to talk to."

"About my father's land?" I ask, much too hopefully.

"My, aren't you a talker today?" he says, and finishes off his glass of champagne in a few long gulps.

Then he leaves me alone in a crowd of at least one hundred people, and I feel like all eyes are on me. I never did well in large groups of people. I prefer to be alone, tending my garden, or working at the retirement home before I got laid off last month.

Most of the people are congregated in the central part of the garden, so I wander off to the side where a huge hyacinth bush is flowering. I've been trying to grow flowers like these all my life back home, but never succeeded. A pair of older ladies are ogling me as I pass them, but I pretend not to notice, and breathe a sigh of relief once the bush hides me from them.

"She reminds me of someone," one of them says once I'm out of view. "Can't quite place her though…"

"I got it," the other one says after a long pause. "She looks like Sophia."

"Oh my God, you're right," the first lady gasps and the silence that follows actually cuts.

I want to get as far away from this place as I can. I want to go home. The urge is so strong I'm not even sure why I'm not already running for the door.

"Care for a refill?" a man asks making me turn. He's head and shoulders taller than me, a lazy wave of honey colored hair covering his forehead, ending just shy of his eyes which are as blue as the sea stretching out behind him.

"No, umm, I'm fine," I say, showing him my full glass of champagne.

"I'm Terrence, but call me Terry, everyone else does," he says, offering me his hand. "I'm Eric's brother."

"Joy," I offer shaking his hand. They look nothing alike, him and Eric. Like night and day. Terry is light in all the ways Eric is dark.

"I feel like we've met before," he says and even though his tone is friendly and light, I've never been less comfortable when meeting a stranger. It's like his airy, friendly manner is hiding something that should never see the light of day.

"Sophia," I mutter, completely unsure of why I spoke.

"Excuse me?"

"The lady before…she said I look like someone named Sophia." I would literally rather fall flat on my face than have to explain this, but I blurted it out and there's no backing out now.

He studies my face more closely for a few moments.

"Yes, the resemblance is there," he finally says. "But you look like she might have, not like she did."

"Might have?" What is going on here? Somehow I manage not to ask the second question.

"She died when she was seventeen," he says, the friendly tone gone from his voice. "But you better ask Eric about her."

He breaks eye contact with me, a look so sharp it could cut flesh flashing from his eyes. Even their color has turned steel grey.

"Ask me what?" Eric asks, placing his arm around my shoulders.

"About Sophia," Terry answers. "Maybe Joy here should know about her, seeing as they look so much alike. Let's just hope this time it ends better, huh, little brother."

Eric's arm tenses across my shoulders, and my heart is beating so fast I feel it in my throat.

A thick, charged silence grows between the two brothers. They look like two cats in a silent standoff, the aggression palpable.

Terry looks away first, finishing off his glass of champagne. "I'll leave you to it then. It was nice meeting you, Joy."

"Likewise," I manage to mutter, but my voice sounds like it's coming from very far away.

"Who's Sophia?" I ask Eric once Terry's gone.

"My stepsister." His voice sounds like he's chewing on rocks.

"And what happened to her?" I'm getting a distinct feeling that she features prominently in the nightmares he spoke of last night.

"She killed herself," Eric says, not meeting my eyes. "And a lot of people, Terry included, think I had a lot to do with it."

He's staring at me now, his dark eyes burning with an intense, but invisible light. I know my fear is plain to see in my face, because it's all I feel.

"You weren't supposed to find out about her," he adds.

But Eric made sure I did find out about her. And he didn't deny his involvement with Sophia's death. What have I gotten myself into?