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Carrie waits all day.
She'd been furious with Eleanor at first — the audacity! How dare she take their car! — and then became even more so because now her vacation to the mountains was going to be delayed. Her family went ahead, as she insisted she could deal with Eleanor by herself.
But, Eleanor never came.
She waits a day, wondering.
At first, she doesn't think much of it. Hill House is a good almost-day's drive, so of course Eleanor would be home near evening. When evening rolled around, however, her driveway remained empty.
"Perhaps she's caught in traffic," Carrie tells herself. It's unusual for her to talk aloud — that's Eleanor's habit, not hers. "Or she truly damaged the car, that rotten woman."
The next morning, Eleanor is still not there and Carrie begins to worry. About the state of her car, that is.
She rings the number the lady on the phone had given to her the day before, but nobody answers. She tries twice more, to no avail.
So Carrie calls her husband instead, tells him she'll be another day because the car isn't here yet, and goes on with her day.
The day after, Carrie begins to give up hope when a car pulls into the driveway. Not her own, but perhaps they gave Eleanor a ride because of her state. God forbid she got lost, or broke down in the middle of nowhere.
But a woman steps out, not Eleanor, and walks up to the door and knocks.
She's a pretty girl, with a stiff and solemn face, unkempt dark hair and circles beneath her eyes.
She wears Eleanor's red sweater, the ugly one Carrie had scolded her for buying.
"Who are you?" Carrie demands.
The woman tilts her head down ever so slightly.
"My name is Theodora. I was a friend of your sister's." She meets Carrie's eyes. "You're Carrie Vance, right?"
"Yes, I am." Carrie frowns but, remembering her manners, steps aside to let the woman in. Theodora moves inside, shaky, and stands awkwardly in the entrance as Carrie closes the door.
"You said 'was'," she starts. "Did y—"
"Do you love your sister, Carrie?" Theodora asks abruptly. She's looking at the wall, decorated in pictures of old and new family photos. The new ones have not an Eleanor in sight. "Do you care about her?"
"Eleanor is a selfish thief," Carrie replies sharply. She ignores the growing pit in her stomach that had been there since the morning she woke up to Eleanor — and her car — gone. "I suppose I should, as her sister."
"I loved her," Theodora says, adding quickly, "as a sister. We called ourselves cousins though I knew nothing at all about her, and she knew nothing about me."
Carrie narrows her eyes. "Have you been sent by her to set up the news that my car's been totaled? That Eleanor is a clutz and she broke our only means of private transportation, and she's too cowardly to show her own face?" She leans to look out the window. "Is she in the car, just watching us, waiting for you to signal when I've cooled down enough?" She raps at the window pane.
"Eleanor is dead, Carrie Vance," Theodora says blankly. Her voice is so lost of emotion that Carrie turns around, watching her face.
"What?" she breathes.
"Your sister died. Two days ago."
"You're joking."
"I wish I was. I saw it— I saw her. She crashed into a tree." Theodora adjusts her sleeve. "So, in a way, you're correct. I am here to tell you your car's been totaled, but I believe it's part Nell's, too."
Carrie exhales sharply. "Who do you think you are?" she snaps.
"I'm Theodora," Theodora repeats. "Eleanor's best friend."