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Stormy sighed. “You might as well since I’ll probably be obsessed with Foley at our support meetings. Another perspective can’t hurt.”
Sandy dried another gleaming mold, this one in the shape of an apple. “We’re going to do fabulously with candles, Stormy. I just know it.’’ The mold slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. “Oops. Hope I didn’t dent it.”
Nina burst into the kitchen, fire in her eyes. “Could you hold it down in here? You know Tully is sick. You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.”
Sandy froze, darting a look from Stormy to Nina. “Sorry, my fault.”
“It’s all right,” Stormy soothed.
“I’ll just take these on out to the garage,” Sandy said, avoiding Nina’s eyes as she picked up a box of molds and made good her escape.
Stormy whirled on her sister. “That wasn’t nice. Or necessary. Tully isn’t in the throes of death. He’s just got a hangover.”
“Why do you have to have Sandy here?” Nina said in a tight voice. “If you wanted a partner, you could’ve asked me instead of some stranger. You know I could use the extra money.”
“If memory serves me right, you suggested flea marketing was only one step away from being a streetwalker.”
“How much are you paying Sandy?”
“That’s Sandy’s business. If you want to work, Nina, what’s to stop you from going out and getting a job? Or lending Tully a hand down at the office? Perhaps with the two of you pulling together, you could get his company out of the red. Today is a prime example. With Tully sick—”
“Tully prefers me to be home with our children.”
Stormy knew it would be of no use to point out that Nina had just contradicted herself. “Tommy and Davie are in school and day-care. You could put in a few hours.”
Instead of spending all your free time shopping or playing cards with your girlfriends, Stormy thought.
“Well, I can’t do that, can I? I have to keep an eye on you and the rubbish you invite into my home.”
Stormy went rigid. “No one is immune to mistakes, Nina. Don’t you have any compassion?”
“I save my compassion for where it’s needed—for my sons and my husband. You’re going to get your retribution, Stormy; you just wait and see. And Tully isn’t hung over; he’s got the flu. I’m leaving now to pick up a prescription the doctor called in for him.” She made an about-face and stalked out, leaving Stormy with a foreboding feeling.
Trembling, Stormy leaned over the sink, trying to unravel the nervous knot in her stomach. She wanted desperately to believe that Nina’s bursts of vitriol were harmless. But even that slim pretense was denied her when she joined Sandy in the garage.
All the candle-making paraphernalia had been sorted and arranged on a makeshift tabletop. Sandy looked up from the instruction booklet. “I overheard everything. Living here must be worse for you than jail.”
Quick tears betrayed Stormy’s turmoil. “I keep telling myself nothing is as bad as prison. All I need is one more weekend, and I’ll have enough to move Liane and myself out of here.”
“My place is hardly more than a cubbyhole, but the sofa makes into a bed.”
“Thanks, but no. It’s only for another week or so. Usually, I manage to stay out of Nina’s way.”
They both turned to watch as Nina pulled out of the driveway. She was at the wheel of Stormy’s car.
Sandy shook her head. “Now that takes more brass than a general has stars.”
“I think brass was bred into our genes,” Stormy said, attempting a smile. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Let’s get started. What’s the first thing we have to do?”
“Shave wax,” Sandy said, handing over a block of paraffin. “And we don’t have to worry about making mistakes. We can remelt and start over. The main thing is to make sure the wicks don’t have kinks in them.”
They pulled up plastic milk crates to serve as stools and got to work. After a few minutes, Sandy said, “Listen, I don’t want to butt in about your sister—”
“Then don’t,” Stormy said more abruptly than she’d meant. “I’m sorry Nina was—”
“Please, Stormy—I’ve got to say just this one tiny thing.”
Stormy inhaled—she felt skinned and nailed to the wall—but finally, she telegraphed a small smile. “Okay. One tiny thing.”
