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Nine
Sunday night every muscle in Carly’s body ached from the constant running around as she made sure her sisters felt loved and cared for since their arrival. By the time she had researched Russian immigrant life and crawled between the line-dried sheets, her bedside clock read nearly midnight. She set her copy ofPlot and Structureon the nightstand to read later, when her brain was less weary.
Her eyes refused to close, and she lay on her back staring at the ceiling. A faint light swept across it from someone in the drive. Both of her sisters were here, so who could be out there this time of night?
She sprang out of bed and grabbed the baseball bat she’d put by her bed as well as her phone, then rushed out to the hall. She tiptoed toward the steps. No light shone around the edges of Emily’s closed door, and the familiar rhythm of waves from her sound machine came faintly to Carly’s ears.
Her heart thudded in her chest as she stood at the top of the stairs. Should she go down or call for Lucas? Dillard was here and usually carried a gun, but she wasn’t inclined to trust his ability. But would the Russian mafia announce their presence in a vehicle with lights in the drive? Not likely. If not acriminal, then who was out there? Even from here she could see the way the headlights illuminated the entry hall at the bottom of the steps.
She eased down two steps and paused to listen. The headlamps went out, and the bottom of the stairs went dark. With the bat in one hand and her phone in the other, she slipped down two more steps.
A sound behind her made her jump, and she nearly tumbled down the stairs. Emily stood close behind her. Her dark hair was secured on top of her head, and she was panting. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Someone pulled in the drive,” Carly whispered back.
“Maybe they were just turning around.”
It was a possibility, but Carly grabbed her sister’s forearm at the sound of footsteps ascending the porch steps. “Someone’s out there.”
“We should call the police. Or Lucas. He’s right next door.”
Carly didn’t want to bother him again if she didn’t have to, but it looked like she had to. She nodded and pulled up his number on her phone. Before she could touch Send, the doorbell rang.
“An intruder doesn’t ring the bell.” Emily went past her on the steps.
Someone pounded on the door. “Hey, Mom, you up?”
Relief weakened Carly’s knees at the familiar voice. What was Dad doing here at this time of night? He lived in California, a continent away from South Carolina. If he wanted to come for a visit, why hadn’t he called? Her thoughts scrambled to where to put him. While there were plenty ofbedrooms in the huge house, none of the others were made up for guests.
Her feet touched the oak floors, cooled by the night breeze coming through the open windows. The chill chased away the rest of her fear. How long had it been since she’d seen Dad? At least two years. He wasn’t the warmest of fathers, and he rarely bothered with his girls from his first marriage. He’d had a daughter with his second wife, but again, Carly didn’t know her half sister well. Nor her stepmother, for that matter.
“It’s Daddy!” Emily opened the door and flung her arms around the man standing there.
Carly flipped on the porch light, and their dad blinked in the sudden illumination. He hadn’t changed much. Still handsome in spite of being nearly fifty. Gray sprinkled the sides of his thinning dark hair, and he wore shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. He’d gotten his boho look from Gram most likely. He didn’t come to see his mother any more frequently than he saw his girls, though Carly thought he called her more often.
He embraced Emily. “Hi, Peanut. I didn’t know you were here.” His gaze went over her shoulder to where Carly stood. “I’d hoped you were still here.”
Warmth surged into Carly’s chest. He’d come to see her? He’dwantedto see her? A smile curved her lips, and she took a step toward him until a figure moved into view behind him. The young girl had to be Izzy. Was she out of school already? It was only mid-May.
Her father released Emily and pulled Izzy to his side. “You haven’t seen Izzy in a while.”
“Isabelle.” The girl’s lip curled in disgust, and she jerked her arm out of his grasp.
She was about fifteen now, and Carly remembered all too well how her sisters had been at that age. And the first order of business was making sure she didn’t call her sister by the name of Izzy.
Carly stepped out of the doorway and turned on the entry light. “Come on in.” She’d need to ready two rooms, not just one. The enormity of everything hitting her all at once was enough to make her want to tell them to get their own rooms ready, but she couldn’t do that. How hard would it have been to call before they showed up?
She closed the door behind them and locked it again. “It will take me a little while to get rooms ready.”
“No problem. Just get a room ready for Izzy. I can take a nap in the recliner before I fly out tomorrow.”
Carly looked at her sister, then back at her dad. “You’re not staying?”
“I have to fly to Italy on business. I’ll be gone a month, and Izzy needs a place to stay.”
Her father was an attorney and traveled frequently. Carly often thought he used his job to escape responsibilities at home.
Isabelle stalked off to the living room and threw herself onto the sofa. “I can’t believe I have to stay in this dinky little town!”
