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ple of hours and I’ll be home soon. You don’t have to be over there until eleven—”
She stopped in midsentence and leaned against the wall. Absently twirling the phone cord in her fingers, she listened to all of her son’s excuses.
“Okay, okay, just get ready. After you finish this afternoon you can go swimming and later I’ll barbecue for dinner…I don’t know—how about hot dogs or hamburgers?…Good.” She waited and rolled her eyes. “See ya.” She hung up and shook her head. “I’d better go before he takes off and ditches out of this job. A workaholic he’s not, but I guess he’s pretty young.” She was already heading for the hallway. “It was nice to get to know you a little better. Maybe…well, if we can convince her, we can visit Tiffany someday. You know about her, right?”
“My father’s firstborn,” Bliss said stiffly. “Yes. I’ve heard of her.” But only recently.
“She moved back to Bittersweet a little while ago, just about the time school was out, and I saw her once to tell her about John and Mom getting married. She wasn’t very anxious to talk to me—in fact, I’m not sure she can handle all this—” Katie gestured vaguely toward the interior of the house and waved her fingers. “Well, maybe none of us can, but I’m sure she just didn’t know what to say to me, and she was having trouble with her boy and his uncle. The guy—J.D. Santini—seems to be butting into the kid’s life. The whole Santini clan are kind of pushy, I think. Her father-in-law is the patriarch and head of Santini Wines, a big deal up in Portland. Her husband, Philip, worked for him and I think J.D. does, too, though he is, well, as I understand it, the black sheep of the family.
“Anyway, Tiffany’s got her share of problems and I haven’t worked up the nerve to call her again.”
“You?” Bliss questioned. “Afraid? I don’t believe it.”
“Intimidated would be more like it,” Katie admitted. “Tiffany’s gone through some rocky times and I think she blames your—I mean, our—father.”
“Maybe she’s got valid reasons,” Bliss suggested as she swiped bread crumbs from the counter and tossed them into the sink.
“Probably. But she’s still our sister. I think we should give her another chance.” She hesitated. “You gave me one.”
Bliss lifted a shoulder. What could she say? It was impossible not to like Katie Kinkaid. “I’ll try.”
“Good.” With a wave, Katie was off, scurrying down the hallway like a whirlwind. Bliss followed her to the front door and closed it after Katie’s tired old convertible rumbled down the drive.
Left feeling breathless, Bliss walked back to the den. Each and every day, her life became more complicated than she’d ever expected. Her father’s impending marriage, her half sisters and Mason were more than she could expect to handle. Not at all certain she wanted to get to know either of her sisters any better, Bliss wondered if they’d ever come to terms with each other. Katie was a steamroller who seemed determined to take control of everyone’s life she crossed, and Tiffany sounded cold and aloof.
“Don’t judge,” she warned herself, but she was still wary. She had to be careful. Years before, she’d cast caution to the wind when it came to relationships and it had cost her; it had cost her dearly. She’d lost her heart and nearly her life. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not ever. Or so she tried to convince herself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“So, is there a man in your life?”
Brynnie’s question startled Bliss. She nearly dropped the pot of coffee she’d been pouring for her soon-to-be stepmother. Though she and John were still at odds about selling the ranch, they had buried the hatchet in shallow, soft soil. Everyone was treading lightly and Bliss wondered if the wedding would come off as planned.
“A man in my life? No, not really,” she said, setting the glass pot back in the coffeemaker and handing Brynnie a steaming cup.
“A pretty girl like you? I don’t believe it.” Brynnie took a sip. “Mmm, that’s good.” She set her cup on the marred kitchen table and eyed her future stepdaughter. “You’re an architect, isn’t that what John told me?”
“When I’m working. Business has been a little slow lately.”
“Good. You can spend more time here with your dad.” She added cream to her cup. “I would think, in a job like yours, that you’d work with lots of men.”
Bliss swallowed a smile. “Too many.”
“Uh-uh-uh. That’s not the right attitude. By the time I was your age, I was through with my second husband and on to my third.” She laughed—a deep, throaty chuckle, made raspy by too many cigarettes.
“I guess I haven’t met the right man yet.”
“Of course you have. You just don’t know it.” Brynnie blew across her cup and sighed. “You know, he might be right under your nose.”
“Is that a fact?” The conversation made Bliss a little uncomfortable, but she couldn’t help being intrigued by this woman who was so different from her mother. While Margaret Cawthorne had always been perfectly dressed, not a hair out of place, her smile somewhat immobile, her fingernails polished, her jewelry refined and understated, Brynnie wore tight jeans, T-shirts that had seen better days and costume jewelry that was outrageous and fun, rather than elegant.
Brynnie eyed Bliss over the rim of her cup. “I heard you saw Mason Lafferty the other day.”
Bliss nearly choked on a swallow of coffee. This was a small town.
“I thought you two had some kind of, well—” she waved her pudgy fingers in the air and frowned “—chemistry, for lack of a better word.”
Heat stole up Bliss’s neck. That “chemistry” was none of Brynnie’s business, and yet she’d probably already heard the story of her involvement with Mason from Bliss’s father. “There was—once. It was a long time ago. It’s over.”
