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But it had worked. It had protected Sophie.
And that was all that mattered.
“Alison?”
She straightened her shoulders. She would never regret what she’d done to safeguard her sister. “Because with Mom gone, our stepfather wasn’t going to side with us over his big-shot lobbyist brother. You know how close they were. And he ... he promised to leave you alone if I went along.”
“Oh, Alison.” The bed squeaked as Sophie rose. “I’m sorry you—”
She spun around, anger quivering through her. “Don’t feel sorry for me, okay? I survived, and I’m still here. He’s not.”
Sophie stared at her. “What ... what do you mean?”
Blast.
She’d said too much.
Fighting back a wave of panic, she forced herself to calm down. To put a lid on her emotions and engage the left side of her brain.
She had to act as if it was no big deal. If she treated the remark like an offhand comment, Sophie would too.
Calling up an indifferent expression, she shrugged and strolled back to the bed, keeping her tone casual as she picked up her blouse. “Out of curiosity, I googled him a few monthsback. I found his death notice. No great loss, if you ask me.” She put an arm around her sister’s delicate shoulders again. “Let’s not talk about any more unhappy subjects today. Give me ten minutes to finish changing, then go out to eat with me. Somewhere bright and cheerful. Deal?”
“Sure. I guess.” Sophie eased out of the hug. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
“Think of where you want to go. My treat.”
With a dip of her head, her sister slipped through the door and closed it with a soft click.
For several moments Alison remained motionless, processing the conversation.
So much for keeping the trauma of those boat visits a secret and saving Sophie an undeserved guilt trip. But it wasn’t surprising her sister had figured it out eventually. She might be the quiet type, but as they said, still waters ran deep—and her insights had always been keen.
As were Bri’s.
Another reason skipping the service that had tipped off her sister about the divorce hadn’t been an option.
If she’d bailed after Bri, loyal friend that she was, had insisted on attending, that would have raised all kinds of questions too.
Alison headed for the bathroom to remove some of the makeup she’d applied with a heavy hand this morning, as any distraught widow would, to camouflage signs of grief.
At least Bri hadn’t overheard anything. She’d come in less than a minute before the service began, woven through the crowd the instant it was over to offer her condolences, then disappeared out the door.
Only Sophie had learned that her separation story was a fabrication.
Yet much as she wished her sister hadn’t heard that snippet of conversation, no harm had been done.
Nor would Sophie worry too much about Larry’s demise, even if she’d been shocked to learn of his death.
Because Sophie was in her corner, just as she’d always been in Sophie’s.
And sisters stuck together.
No matter what.
TWENTY-TWO
LAURA BUTLER WAS LEGIT.
