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“Says who?”
“Anybody with any brains!”
Tessa slumped lower in her chair and ignored the plate of toast Miranda set on the table beside her.
“Look, he’s been coming on to me for years,” Miranda admitted.
Tessa laughed. “You?” She eyed her straight arrow of a sister. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s true.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not buying it. We got anything to drink around here? Juice?”
“In the fridge.” Miranda would be damned if she’d pour Tessa a glass of anything. The toast was good enough.
She wanted to warn Tessa about Weston again, but it would only be an exercise in frustration. There was just no arguing with her. What a disaster! Tessa and Weston. Dutch would have a heart attack. Miranda only hoped that this thing with Weston was a one-night stand.
“Where’s Ruby?” Tessa asked as she reached for a piece of toast and began peeling off the crust.
Miranda checked her watch. Nearly ten o’clock and Ruby Songbird still hadn’t shown up. Miranda couldn’t remember a day when Ruby hadn’t been in the house before eight, washing windows, scrubbing floors, baking bread, and stoically giving orders that she expected to be unquestioned and obeyed. Miranda disregarded any thought that something might be wrong and focused her attention on her youngest sister. Tessa had a way of getting into trouble. Big life-altering trouble. “Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking, Tess, but getting involved with Weston is all wrong, believe me.”
“Just like Harley and Claire are all wrong?” Tessa asked, her gaze skating to the doorway as Claire walked in, taking in the tail end of the conversation.
“It’s different.” Miranda felt trapped, cornered by her cunning fox of a sister.
“How?” Tessa demanded.
Miranda silently counted to ten and gazed directly at Claire. “Harley and Claire think they’re in love. They’ve dated a while, seem committed to each other and—”
“What about Kendall Forsythe?”
Claire turned as pale as winter sunlight, and her fingers coiled tightly. “What?”
“Harley can’t seem to really break it off with her.” Tessa scraped back her chair and if she was conscious of the pain in Claire’s eyes, she didn’t show it.
“That’s a lie,” Claire said firmly. “He and Kendall are history.”
“I don’t think so.” Tessa swung open the refrigerator door and rummaged inside until she came up with a jar of Ruby’s homemade raspberry jam and a pitcher of orange juice.
Ruby? Where in the world was she? Miranda walked to the windows and stared at the path to the driveway, the one that curved around the back of the garage and cut between the lake and swimming pool, the one Ruby used each morning.
“You shouldn’t believe anything Weston tells you.” Claire, finding some steel for her spine, strode across the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee even though the pot wasn’t finished filling. Hot drops sizzled on the warming plate before she placed the glass pot back in its spot. To her credit, her hands barely shook.
Tessa was unconcerned. “Why not?” She grabbed a teaspoon from the drawer and plunged it into the jam.
“He’s . . . he’s not trustworthy.”
“And Harley is?” Tessa arched a disbelieving brow as she dipped a spoon into the jam and leaned a hip against the cupboards.
“Yes!”
“Look, Tess, there’s no reason to argue, just be careful, okay?” Miranda suggested.
“Like you are?” Tessa’s smile, like that of a cat who’d swallowed the pet canary, didn’t falter as she licked the spoon clean. “You know, when you’re with Hunter.”
“Hunter? Hunter Riley?” Claire asked, a crease forming between her eyebrows as she turned to her older sister.
“According to Weston, Randa’s been seeing Hunter on the sly.”
