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“I irritated a lot of people and can’t say I learned anything useful.” He blew out a sigh. “Did you know Emily is telling people about the drawing?”

“Yes. She called just after I left Dad’s. I don’t even know why, when she was so sullen. She said Mom deserved to be humiliated and, when I pointed out that she was kind of past that, Emily went off about what a stuffed shirt Matt is, and saying Dad wouldn’t notice even if people are talking about him. I kind of hung up on her.”

“Good.”

“Do you hang up on your sisters or mother?”

He grimaced. “I should.”

Beth laughed, even though she didn’t actually feel like it. With the sauce simmering, she put hot water for the pasta on to boil, then turned to face him.

“Tony, Emily hasn’t just told people about the drawing.” Seeing the way his expression changed, she went on. “She told them I’d seen another drawing by the guy and am trying to remember who he is.”

He swore. “I cannot believe—No, I can. Is she malicious or just stupid?”

Defending Emily came automatically, even though Beth had wondered the same thing. Except she’d wondered instead whether her little sister was that dumb—or hated her.

“Would you like it if I said something like that about one of your sisters?”

Tony made a disbelieving sound. “If she shoved me onto a busy freeway? Yeah, I think I’d wonder about her motives.”

Beth turned hastily to stir her sauce and added the evaporated milk she’d already measured out. “I…couldn’t tell if she even thought about what she’d done. It was like…” Frowning, Beth tried to pin down her impression. “She’s mad at everyone. Maybe…maybe she intended to challenge Mom’s killer, to say ‘You’ll be caught. You’ll pay for what you did.’”

She didn’t hear him move. The first she knew, his big hands closed on her shoulders, and he gently turned her around. The compassion on his face was almost more than she could stand.

“Are you not friends at all?”

“We are.” Or so Beth had believed. Or deceived herself. “She’s…moody. She always was, really. She clung to me after Mom left, until teenage hormones hit a year later. Then she needed me desperately one minute, screamed ‘You can’t tell me what to do!’ the next. I guess some of that has lingered.” She found herself searching Tony’s face for understanding. “Did I tell you how she blew up at Matt last weekend for throwing away those Christmas ornaments? I thought she really wanted them to bring back a time when she was happier. Now, I don’t know. She resented us telling her she couldn’t have Mom’s clothes, too. Maybe she’s a spoiled brat who didn’t want to be denied anything she wanted. But if that’s so…it had to be me who spoiled her.”

The warmth in his dark eyes didn’t abate. “Oh, sweetheart…not true. She had parents until she was twelve. What’s more, you were a child when you took responsibility for her. You did your best, and I’m betting it was pretty damn good. Anyway, from what you say, she resents Matt, too, and what did he do to her?”

“I don’t know,” she had to admit. “Dad…well, Matt and he had the rockiest relationship, but I guess Emily wanted his attention more than I realized.”

“She’d lost her mother. You’d all lost your mother.” His smooth voice had hardened. “How could he not see how much you all needed him?”

“I don’t know.” How often had she said that lately? “Dad and I talked today. Let me cook, and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Okay.” There was his gentle side again. “Is there anything I can do?”

He poured drinks and got out silverware and napkins, while she poured the boiling water and pasta into a colander, then transferred the pasta to one bowl and sauce to another.

When she brought them to the table, going back to the refrigerator for grated parmesan, Tony said, “Why don’t we hold off on the serious stuff until we’re done eating?”

“Are you trying to tell me my sister makes you queasy?” she said, in mock challenge.

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