“I’m not my sister!” I shout, and he draws back, brows lifted. “Don’t you think it was humiliating for me, going to school here? Do you think no one whispered and talked about us? Teachers who knew you and your brothers. Parents of classmates who pieced together the whole sordid story. Do you think no one noticed I was still in town while none of you came back? Doyou think only Ransom and Holly were swept up in the gossip, with people talking behind their backs?” I push off the table. My breaths come quick and hard. “It wasn’t a walk in the park, growing up in Scandal while being part of a scandal. Especially when it wasn’t my choice to be here in the first place.”
The initial alarm at my outburst gives way to the briefest glimpse of compassion before his gaze turns cold. He doesn’t want to understand. He doesn’t want to like me. The knowledge stings like vinegar on a papercut. His decision about me was made when I was thirteen years old, rolled in with his opinion of Holly, and he’s already proved he can hold records at being stubborn. So I ditch my plate and my half-drunk beer and stomp to the room that’s mine for at least one more night. I’ll find no warmth, no comfort, from Calder Cross.
SEVEN
CALDER
I pull up in front of the dated funeral home. For a town as small as Scandal, the funeral home is a sprawling building made to hold a couple hundred people, and thanks to that, it’s on the edge of city limits. I park behind a familiar blue hybrid SUV. It was at the brewery yesterday. What the hell is Meredith doing here?Other than planning her sister’s funeral at the only funeral home in Scandal, dumbass.
Guilt lingers from last night’s feud, and my curiosity about Meredith Winslow grows. What did she mean when she said a guy like me used her? What happened? Dad never mentioned anything. Carlos said she started at the brewery when she was twenty-one, and then she was gone for a few years, only to return to Jules Creek five years ago.
Her claims about being the scandal in Scandal gnaw at my stomach lining. It hasn’t been easy for her.Dad’s words scrawl through my head, but I push them away. That’s not my fault.
Doesn’t help the acid churning in my gut. How hard was it?—
No. I’m not interested. I don’t want to know more about the fiery woman who chugs a beer while making a satisfied sound straight from the bedroom. I don’t want to be fascinated by the way she faces me down, instead of catering to me. There’sno fluttering of her eyelashes or sashaying of her hips that will influence me. Doesn’t mean I took my gaze off her ass when she stomped out of the kitchen last night, though.
Now I have to face her while planning my dad’s funeral—the same funeral he would’ve wanted with Holly, side by side in front of the community. Bowen and Landry support the decision, but they’re not here to see Dad’s dirty laundry still mixed with Holly’s in the main-level bathroom. Their shoes lined up together by the entry. Their coats hanging together on the hooks by the door.
The burn in my gut works its way to behind my sternum. I get out of my ride and slam the door. In the funeral home, Meredith is speaking with James Foreman, a lanky older man dressed in a peach dress shirt and gray slacks. His tightly trimmed black curls are peppered with gray. He’s the same director who handled Mama’s funeral.
Meredith’s expression is as hard as steel. Her brunette hair is pulled back, with red strands glinting under the fluorescent lights.
“Ah, Calder. Hello.” James crosses to me to shake hands.
“Nice to see you again.” It truly is. He was a calming presence during an awful time, and now, with the added drama, I’m relieved it’s him handling the situation.
“I’m just wrapping up with Meredith.” He presses his hands together, glancing back and forth. “Unless you’d like to go over anything while you’re both here.”
The yellow in Meredith’s eyes blazes. “Calder would like them to remain separate.”
“I can talk with Meredith separately about anything we need to coordinate,” I say, more to keep things moving. Hopefully her, moving out of my sight. She’s in another Jules Creek polo—yellow this time. The lighter color makes her tits even more apparent, unfortunately. Who picked that damn color?
“Yes. Right.” His smile is easy, even though this situation is not.
A better man might give in, but I cannot sit through a service listening to good things about the woman my mom trusted at her most vulnerable.
“Well, we’ve got the times scheduled. I can do one service after the other. Neither of you wishes for a long one, so anyone who’d like to stay for both can. The same goes for the graveside service—one after the other. Easy enough to do with the plots next to each other.”
“What?” My anger is instant. “Dad’s getting buried next to Mama. He bought both plots at the same time.”
Strain lines James’s eyes. “Yes, um, well, he purchased a third not long after.”
“So he’s going to be flanked by Mama and that woman?”
“That woman is my sister,” Meredith says tightly.
“How would you feel?” I ask hotly, regretting my outlash. I never lose my cool. I’m as cold as ice in my job, keeping my emotions out of major financial decisions for my clients, but this moment feels like getting dipped into a ring of hell. My skin blisters as hot as my temper. “How would you feel if my dad cheated on Holly while he was caring for her during those last two months of her life?” I tilt my head. Dad never admitted to cheating on my mom, but the timeline doesn’t make sense otherwise. “Then married his affair partner and laid himself to rest beside her? I bet your sister didn’t invite any friends over to care for her when she was recovering from her broken leg, just in case.”
Meredith’s jaw drops open with a gasp, and I want to groan. I pushed it too far. I’m an adult, not some volatile kid.
“I’m sorry, Calder.” James is the eye of the storm raging between me and Meredith. “I can’t imagine how hard this mustbe. I also know it can be hard to honor our loved ones’ wishes when they cause so much pain.”
My fury deflates. Meredith seems to wither while gathering herself. No one can deny this is a shit place for both of us to be, and having James acknowledge it means a lot.
“Fine,” I say, regaining my composure. Meredith is drawing into herself, and after being reprimanded by her—and having her serve me the best ice-cold beer I’ve had in twenty years—I feel every bit the asshole I just acted like. “Funeral and graveside service back-to-back. Reception at the ranch.”
The door swings open behind us and a woman rushes in. She stands an inch shorter than Meredith, her braided hair a couple of shades lighter, with highlights, but nothing that screams salon quality. This person must spend a lot of time in the sun. There’s something familiar about her. I know her.
