Envious

by Lisa Jackson

  “My kind of woman.”

  She laughed and felt him fiddle with the belt of her robe. “Hey, wait a minute—”

  “Breakfast can wait,” he growled against her ear as the robe parted and he lifted her from her feet.

  As it was, breakfast was forgotten.

  * * *

  The fax machine whirred to life and Bliss waited, pushing aside the drawing she’d been working on. It had been four days since her father had been released from the hospital, and each night she’d spent with Mason. They’d talked of everything and nothing, but never once broached the subject that seemed forbidden to them. The future was off-limits. He was worried about his sister and his daughter; she was concerned about her father and the marriage that was once again “on.” By the end of next week, Brynnie would officially be her stepmother.

  And then what? Pack up Oscar and return to her life in Seattle?

  Twiddling her pencil, she walked to the fax machine and read the memo from the office—another bid and a friendly note from one of the partners asking her when she planned to return.

  “Never,” she thought aloud, then caught herself. Because she wanted to stay here in this tiny town to be near her father? Or Mason? Or both?

  Disgusted by the turn of her thoughts, she decided to drive over to Brynnie’s to see John, but she’d barely made it out the front door when a brown station wagon pulled into the drive and parked between two of the pickups used by the hired hands.

  Tiffany Santini climbed out of the car, glanced at a couple of the workers who were unloading hay into the barn and hurried to the front porch.

  “Oh—did I come at a bad time?” she asked, seeing the car keys swinging from Bliss’s fingers.

  “No, come on in. I was going to visit Dad, but it can wait.”

  “He’s not here? I thought he was released from the hospital.”

  “He was, but he’s staying at Brynnie’s for a little while. Come in.” Bliss was glad for the distraction and the truth of the matter was that she was intrigued by her slightly uptight older half-sister. She didn’t expect they’d become friends overnight, but at least they could get to know each other.

  On the front porch, Tiffany said, “Look, I want to be honest with you. I heard that he was rushed to the hospital, that they thought it was his heart but it turned out that he’d gotten too much sun or something—and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “It’s hard.”

  “I thought the decent thing to do was to stop and see him and yet I didn’t think he’d ever really done the decent thing by me or Mom, so . . . I waited. Anyway, here I am and I’m wondering what in the world I should say to you or to him.” She rolled her large eyes.

  “Well, come on in.” Bliss held open the screen door. “I’ve got coffee or iced tea or—”

  “This really isn’t a social call,” Tiffany snapped, then caught herself. A small line formed between her eyebrows. “I—I don’t know what it is.”

  “Neither do I, but if we don’t talk, we’ll never find out, will we?” Bliss was wary of this woman and yet she was curious. There was, after all, the same Cawthorne blood running through their veins.

  Tiffany hesitated for a second, then must have decided that leaving would look cowardly because she nodded stiffly and followed Bliss inside. Her dark brows rose as she entered the ranch house for the first time, Bliss guessed. “It’s not as if he was—or is—a big part of my life.”

  Bliss let that little jab slide by as they walked into the living room and, for the first time, Tiffany’s eyes took in the watercolors of Indians and cowboys, the river-rock fireplace, the scatter rugs and marred wooden floor.

  “So, now that you’ve been in town a few weeks and met your stepmother-to-be, how do you feel about John’s marriage to Brynnie Perez?” Tiffany asked suddenly.

  Dropping her keys into her purse, Bliss stopped at the fireplace and decided to tell the truth. No reason to pussyfoot. She and these newfound sisters had a lot of ground to cover if they were to ever get along. That, she decided, staring into Tiffany’s eyes, was a mighty big if. “Of course, I resented Brynnie when I first found out about her. How could my father—my father—have carried on an affair for so many years? I knew he was no knight in shining armor—”

  Tiffany snorted her agreement.

  “But I thought he had more morals than a tomcat.” She shoved a shank of hair around her ear. “I was all set to hate Brynnie on sight. This was the woman who had defiled my mother’s reputation, had been the ‘love of my father’s life,’ who had been married a zillion times and had let another man claim Katie as his when she was really Dad’s. It was crazy. Like I’d just walked Through the Looking-Glass or entered The Twilight Zone.”

  “But you accept it?”

  “I don’t have much of a choice, do I? I mean, I can’t tell my father what to do and anyway, as far as I was concerned, the damage was already done.”

  “To your mother.”

  “Yes, and to my idea of what my family was.” Bliss sighed. “So I fought it for a while, decided I couldn’t do anything and then, of course, I met Brynnie.”

  Tiffany walked to the window and stared through the panes to the front porch. “And let me guess how this little fairy tale ends—you fell in love with her, too, and now we’re supposed to all be one big happy family.”

  “Wrong. I thought I’d hate my father’s mistress on sight. And I decided I could live with that. You know, be outwardly civil while inwardly cold. But—and I wouldn’t want my mother, if she were alive, to hear this—Brynnie’s a hard person to hate.”

  Tiffany didn’t respond, just ran a finger along the windowpane as she stared outside.

  “So-o-o, I’m trying to put all my prejudices away if I can. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s time to look forward, not backward. But if you want to know the truth, I’m having a rough time with all of it, okay? It’s not easy, but there it is.” She lifted a palm.

  “There are always choices,” Tiffany argued, though she didn’t elaborate and Bliss guessed that she was talking about her own private problems.

  “Dad didn’t give you many.”

  Tiffany paled. then said, “No, he didn’t. And you probably want to know how I felt about it. Well, I felt rotten. Once Mom came clean and told me the truth, I was sick to think that he didn’t love me enough to claim me.”

  Bliss was horrified. “That’s not what it was like. Tiffany, you’ve got to understand that—”

  “What?” Tiffany said hotly, then appeared to bite back another sarcastic remark and sighed audibly. “Look, it’s not your fault, but I blamed you. When I finally wanted to know more about my ‘dad’—if that’s what you could call him—I asked around about John. It turns out my grandmother had a wealth of information and was more than happy to let me know every intimate detail of my father’s life. That’s when I found out about you and discovered that you had this privileged life up in Seattle—that you had Dad—so I made the mistake of calling you ‘the princess’ in front of my son.”

  Her cheeks colored as she explained. “You seemed to have everything—anything a daughter could ever want. You and your mom had my father’s name and his money and everything while my mother struggled, never married, and worked two jobs just to raise me. Even though my grandmother was and still is supportive, it was hard. Real hard.” Tiffany turned back from the window and offered an unhappy smile. “Obviously, coming here was a mistake. I’m not going to your dad’s wedding and I’m not going to act like the past didn’t happen, okay? I can’t.”

  She turned and Bliss caught hold of her arm. “I understand your frustration.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Okay, so maybe I can’t. But I think we should try to get to know each other.”

  Tiffany silently appraised her. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have called you ‘princess.’ Pollyanna would have been more appropriate.”

  “Maybe so, but no matter what happens,” Bliss said, unable to hold
her tongue, “I’m not going to be bitter about it or carry a huge chip on my shoulder.”

  Tiffany shook her head. “Good for you, Bliss.”

  “Would it be so terrible to get to know each other?” Bliss asked, and wondered why it was suddenly so important. So what if Tiffany didn’t want to have anything to do with her? She’d lived all her life not knowing she had a half-sister, so why push it?

  Tiffany’s eyes were cold as ice. “I just don’t know if there’s any reason to pursue this. I’m not going to make any bones about not liking your father. And trust me, I’ll never think of him as mine, so, as for you, all that I feel toward you right now is idle curiosity.”

  “But you came over here.”

  She shook her head. “I guess I was feeling guilty, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. The thing is that even though I don’t care about John Cawthorne, I wouldn’t want him to suffer, so I’m glad to hear that he’s recovering. Other than that, I don’t have much to say.”

  Bliss dropped her hand and Tiffany left.

  Why Bliss felt a sense of loss, she didn’t understand. As far as she was concerned, Tiffany Santini had never been her sister and never would be. Tiffany had decided.

  * * *

  Brynnie’s house was situated two blocks from the park and painted a faded shade of salmon. It had once been a small cottage but had been expanded over the years to accommodate various husbands and additional children. A wing from the kitchen shot into the backyard, the attic had been turned into a bedroom/loft and the garage had been converted into an apartment attached to the house by an open breezeway. A few petunias splashed color from barrels placed by the front door, where the torn mesh of the screen needed replacing. Three cats lazed on a cracked driveway.

  As Bliss knocked on the door, she heard her father’s voice through the screen. “I told you, this isn’t happening—”

  “Come in, the door’s open,” Brynnie yelled over John’s deeper, angry voice.

  “I don’t care what any damned doctor says, I’m not lyin’ around here twiddlin’ my fingers and toes.” John Cawthorne was seated on a plaid couch and pulling on a boot. His face was red, his jaw set and Bliss knew from experience that he wasn’t going to change his mind. “Hi, kiddo,” he said as Bliss entered, then went right on ranting at Brynnie.

  “I have to check with the accountant about my insurance payments and the foreman of the ranch about how much feed we’ll need this winter. Bill Crosswhite’s got a bull I might want to buy or use, and I’d like to see the animal myself. Then there’s the properties up in Seattle—the house is up for sale and the boat. I’ve got two empty warehouses that someone wants to convert to apartments and . . .” His voice trailed off as he realized both women were staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “And what about the wedding?” Brynnie asked. “Are you gonna be able to squeeze that in?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “We’re supposed to talk to the preacher this afternoon.”

  “The preacher. Right.” John rubbed the side of his face and scratched at the silver stubble on his jaw. Rather than address the subject, he asked Bliss, “How’re you doing out at the ranch all alone?”

  “I’m not really alone, Dad. You’ve got workers.”

  He snorted. “Such as they are.”

  “Well, they’re keeping things in line and Mason has been by a couple of times.”

  “Great,” her father grumbled. “He’s probably gonna change his mind again and find a way to finagle me and keep the damned place.” He shot Brynnie a damning glance. “Or has he been hanging around because of you?” He eyed his daughter and reached for his other boot.

  “I don’t think all of Mason’s motives are evil.” she said with a smile.

  “Is that so? Listen, Blissie, don’t defend that bastard to me. He’s even gone so far as to work a deal with Brynnie behind my back. Helluva guy, that Lafferty.”

  Brynnie, who had been reading her horoscope in the newspaper, said, “That was my fault, John Cawthorne, and you know it. Now Mason’s trying to make amends and the least you could do is be big enough to see it.” Obviously irritated, she snapped the paper, then dropped it onto a coffee table already laden with empty glasses, ashtrays, magazines and books of matches.

  John was having none of it. “That bastard hurt my baby.”

  And so have you, Dad, she thought silently. With all of your lies.

  “Come on, let’s not fight,” Brynnie said to John. “I don’t know why you’re so darned ornery today. You know you’re not supposed to be getting all riled up. Just lie back down, switch on the television and wait for Reverend Jones.”

  “I just can’t stand lyin’ around doin’ nothin’.”

  “The doctor said that if you take it easy, you can move back to the ranch soon—”

  “The doctor can shove it, for all I care. Blast it all, anyway.” He yanked on his boot, rolled to his feet and stood without so much as swaying. If nothing else, John Cawthorne was blessed with more than his share of grit and willpower.

  Bliss cleared her throat. “I thought you should know that Tiffany stopped by. She was looking for you, but when I told her you were here, she decided she didn’t want to come looking for you.”

  John’s face softened. “Well, I’ll be.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Dad. She wasn’t all that friendly.”

  “But she tried.”

  “Yeah.” Bliss nodded and didn’t bring up the fact that she and her elder half-sister had nearly had a shouting match. She’d said enough. Whatever happened next was between Tiffany and John.

  “See there?” Brynnie sniffed. “I’ve always told you there is a God and He’s watching over you.”

  So who was watching over Mom? Bliss wondered, when Margaret Cawthorne lay dying and her husband, though seemingly concerned, was involved with another woman. She gave herself a quick mental shake. She had to quit thinking in those terms. Her mother, rest her soul, was gone. Yes, her father had been unfaithful, less than true, and a liar, but that was all in the past. Now he was marrying a woman whom Bliss couldn’t find it in her heart to hate. As she’d told Tiffany, she couldn’t dwell on the sins of years gone by but had to focus ahead, on the future. With her father.

  And with Mason.

  She pushed that wayward thought aside. Mason and she were having an affair—that much was true. And she knew that she loved him, but never had he said he loved her; never had she felt that he cared for her as she did for him.

  Once again, she’d let him play her for a fool. But not for long.

  As soon as John and Brynnie were married, she was moving back to Seattle.

  What was the old saying, something like it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?

  Bliss wasn’t convinced.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “This time, Mason, you’ve really flipped!” Patty Lafferty hoisted one of her bags into the back of his truck. Overhead, a jet taking off from the airport roared upward into the cloudy heavens. “Do you really think I was somehow involved with Uncle—if that’s what you’d call him—Isaac’s disappearance?”

  “You took off around the same time.”

  “Give me a break.” Eyes as gold as his own sparked angrily. “So what?” She glared at her brother as they stood toe-to-toe in the airport parking lot. “You don’t believe me.”

  “You’ve lied before.”

  “Not about something like this! Oh, Mason, come on!”

  He frowned at her and wished he could believe her, but she’d been in more scrapes than he cared to count.

  “Swear to God!” She licked two fingers and held them up beside her head as proof of her integrity and innocence. “Scout’s honor.”

  He snorted.

  “Oh, for the love of God, Mason, think about it. Why would I help Isaac disappear?”

  “You tell me.”

  Another jet screamed down the runway.

  “I ca
n’t!” She threw her hands up in the air. The wind caught the long red-blond strands of her hair, tossing them in front of her face. “Why won’t you trust me?”

  “Past history.”

  “I just went to Mexico for a while.” She climbed into the cab of the truck and played with the frayed hole in the knee of a disreputable pair of jeans.

  “Maybe you’d like to tell me why?”

  “Maybe not. It’s none of your business.” Her jaw was set and she slid a pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose.

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t do anything illegal, okay? I just needed to get away for a while. Fun and sun, that’s all.”

  “And you couldn’t call?”

  “I didn’t want to. Whether you know it or not, Mason, you’re not my keeper.” She fished into her purse, pulled out a tube of pale pink lipstick and applied it without benefit of a mirror. “And don’t give me any guff about a promise to Mom, okay? It doesn’t wash anymore. I’m way too grownup to have an older brother breathing down my neck.” She slipped the cap onto her lipstick tube and tossed it back into the messy interior of her bag.

  Mason, starting the engine, was still suspicious.

  “You know, Mason, you should lighten up.” She found a decorative elastic band, scraped back her hair and snapped the band into place. “You’re starting to imagine things.”

  He jammed the truck into gear and drove through the parked cars. Sunlight glinted off windshields and fenders, while people with bags of every sort and size clustered in knots at stations for the shuttle. Was he imagining things? He didn’t think so. He cared about his sister even though she’d given him nothing but grief ever since he could remember.

  “You know, Patty,” he said as he slowed to pay for his short stay in the parking lot. He handed the attendant in the booth a ten-dollar bill and waited for change. “It wouldn’t hurt you to settle down.”

  She laughed as the gate opened and he drove through. “Oh, yeah, what’s this? You know the old saying, the pot calling the kettle black or some such hogwash. You could take some of that advice yourself.”

  He slid his sister a knowing glance. “How did Jarrod find you?”