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Somewhat calmer and renewed in spirit, she turned back, stopping at the foot of the dune walk that gave access to the beach from the house. Stormy stared at the homestead. While her parents were alive, these rooms had been filled with warmth and laughter.
Memories of that warmth and laughter, the knowledge that Liane was safe there in her absence, had sustained Stormy in Lowell. Now the house seemed to hold only gloom and anger and defeat. The lovely, warm aura was gone.
Surely, Stormy thought,Nina had not been taking out her vitriol on Liane. It was a thought too horrible to bear.
Once inside, as she undressed and crept into the old four-poster she shared with Liane, her earlier exchange with Tyler Mangus flashed into her mind.
She saw, again, his bright, inquisitive eyes, his lips tilted with irony. Along with his devilish good looks, her memory also logged his assertive manner, the sharp edge to his charm, the shrewdness he couldn’t quite hide. No doubt about it—the man was tough. Implacable.
Still, he had an infectious smile.Man of the moment, indeed.
Beneath all the anxiety, she had felt entirely female in his presence. Felt like a woman, not just a number.
And that spelled danger.
Not to worry, she told herself. She fiercely resented Tyler Mangus’s intrusion in their lives, and that alone would keep her from going gaga just because the man seemed to find her attractive.
She turned over and placed an arm lightly about her sleeping daughter. Liane’s emotions were fragile. She had not taken the deaths of her grandparents well, and Stormy suspected the child had suffered a confusing sense of betrayal at her mother’s long absence. Liane had to be protected, no matter what the cost.
Stormy did not wantto go down to breakfast while Tully and Nina were in the kitchen, but the aroma of perking coffee wafting up the stairs lured her. She slid out of bed without waking Liane and shrugged into her robe.
“Well, well, look who deigns to join us this bright sunshiny morning,” crowed Tully. “My sister-in-law, the jailbird.”
Stormy looked to Nina to see if she would curb her husband’s ridicule, but Nina just said, “Sit down. I’ll pour your coffee. Do you want breakfast?”
“No, thanks. I’ll make Liane a cup of cocoa and take my coffee upstairs.”
“Too good for the likes of us, eh?” Tully injected.
Stormy hesitated. Tully was slouched at the kitchen peninsula, unshaven, bleary-eyed. He had come home late the previous evening and gone straight to bed. She suspected he’d loitered at a local bar after work. Still, if Nina was tolerant of such behavior, she didn’t think it was her place to comment. On the other hand, she wasn’t going to put up with insults.
“Tully,” she said with restraint, “please don’t get into the habit of calling me a jailbird. You might let it slip in front of Liane. She’s been hurt enough. And so have I.’’
He rolled his eyes. “Listen to your sister there, Nina. She’s gone from sinner to saint.’’
Nina banged his breakfast down in front of him so hard that the toast flew off the plate. “Shut up and eat.’’
Stormy moved out of their line of fire to the kitchen stove, busying herself making cocoa and toast for Liane, pouring coffee for herself. She put it all on a wicker tray and left the kitchen without a backward glance.
On the staircase landing, she met her nephews. “Hi, boys.”
She held up the tray so they could scoot beneath it. Davie, the five-year-old, stopped. “Look, Aunt Stormy, I dressed myself for school.”
“You sure did. You look very handsome.”
Tommy, four, was hugging a blanket that had long ago seen better days. “I’m goin’ to school, too.”
“No, you’re not,” Davie informed him. “You’re still a baby.”
“Am not.”
“Are, too.”
“Am not.”
“Give me your blanket, then.”
Tommy bunched the ragged cloth under his arm and hurried down the steps. Davie grinned up at Stormy. “He’s a big sissy.”
