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Katie didn’t feel the least little bit of envy. She believed in love—for other people. It just wasn’t in her cards. “I haven’t been here long, and besides, I got to meet your new tenant.”
“Luke? Hmm.” Tiffany frowned slightly. “He keeps to himself most of the time.”
The boys climbed out of the back of the Jeep, and Christina, Tiffany’s three-year-old daughter, hopped to the ground. The minute her sandals hit dry grass she ran, black curls bouncing at her shoulders, plump little arms stretched upward to J.D., the man who was her uncle and was about to become her stepfather. “Piggyback ride!”
“Sure, dumpling.” J.D. lifted her to his shoulders. Christina giggled and clung to J.D.’s head, and for the first time in a long while, Katie felt a touch of sadness that her son hadn’t yet met his father. In time. All in good time, she told herself.
“Hey, Mom, what’re you doin’ here?” At ten, Josh had teeth that were still too big for his face, freckles that stood out and huge, deep coffee-brown eyes.
“Picking you up.”
“Already?”
“You’ve got soccer practice.”
“Not until five.”
“He can stay—” Tiffany started to offer but caught the quick shake of Katie’s head.
“Another time.”
“Okay, but at least come into the house for a quick glass of iced tea or lemonade. There’s something I need to talk about.”
“It sounds mysterious,” Katie said.
“Everything sounds mysterious to you. Believe me, this isn’t anything you’ll want to write in the paper.”
“You never know,” she teased. After having grown up in a houseful of older half brothers, Katie was overjoyed to discover she had not one, but two half sisters. For most of her life she hadn’t known that Tiffany was her sister; it was only after her husband died that Tiffany had decided to move to Bittersweet where her grandmother, Octavia Nesbitt, had spent most of her life.
The boys took off for the house at a dead run, and by the time Katie, Tiffany and J.D. had crossed the shaded backyard and climbed the few steps to the back porch, the wail of an electric guitar screamed through the open window of Stephen’s room. “My son, the rock star,” Tiffany said with a laugh.
“I wanna see!?
?? Christina wriggled unsteadily on J.D.’s shoulders until he helped her down to the floor. She scurried ahead of them through the open door of the house and clambered up the stairs. The airy kitchen smelled of dried herbs and wildflowers that were bunched and hung from the exposed beams overhead. Artwork, schedules and old report cards decorated the refrigerator, while a rack of copper pans was suspended over a center cooking island.
“I’ll bet the boys are gonna love her wanting to get in on the action.” Tiffany opened the refrigerator and hauled out a pitcher of iced tea.
“If they’re like my brothers,” Katie said, “they’ll lock the door and tell her that because she’s a girl she’s not allowed inside. It’s a plot by all older brothers to mess up their younger sisters’ self-esteem.”
“Didn’t seem to take in your case,” J.D. observed as Tiffany poured them each a glass.
“Careful, Santini, you’re outnumbered here,” Tiffany warned him as she sliced a lemon and dropped wedges into the drinks. She handed Katie her glass and waved her into a chair at the table. Leaning thoughtfully against the counter, she asked, “So, are you ready for the wedding this weekend?”
“Can’t wait.” Katie took a long sip of tea. “How about you?” She pressed the cool glass to her forehead as Tiffany settled into a chair.
“I’ll be okay, I guess. I’m thrilled for Bliss and Mason, but…” She let her voice trail off as she took a swallow of cold tea.
“Don’t tell me,” Katie guessed. “You’re still having trouble dealing with dear old Dad.”
Small lines of concern appeared between Tiffany’s eyebrows. “Let’s just call him John.”
“Okay, so the fact that John Cawthorne is going to be there is bothering you.”
“Not only that he’s there, but that he’s giving the bride away.” Tiffany sighed and, resting her chin on her open palm, stared through the window. “It…it brings it all out in the open again.”
Katie knew what her half sister was talking about. The situation had been painful for everyone involved. John Cawthorne had sired one daughter out of wedlock and hadn’t bothered to marry the girl—Tiffany’s mother. According to Tiffany, there was no love lost between Rose Nesbitt and John Cawthorne. But he hadn’t finished fathering daughters. He’d married a woman named Margaret from San Francisco, and she’d borne him a second daughter—the legitimate one—Bliss.
Not one to ever be satisfied, John had started living a dual life—part of the year in Seattle with Margaret and Bliss, the other down here in Bittersweet where he met and fell in love with Brynnie Anderson, who, in between several husbands, carried on an affair with Cawthorne. As luck would have it, Brynnie, who already had three sons, got pregnant with John’s third daughter. However, Katie had always assumed her father was Hal Kinkaid, her mother’s third husband, whose name she was given. No doubt about it, the family situation was one tangled mess of relationships and emotions. “So, what’re you going to do when you and J.D. get married?” Katie asked.
