by Beth Andrews
“What have you heard?” Sadie hedged.
Irene shook her head. “Let’s not play word games, Sadie. You—” Her eyes widened as she looked behind Sadie. “Did you get a dog?” she asked, sounding as scandalized as if Sadie had brought a coyote pup home and begged to keep it.
Sadie entered the store fully, set her hand on Elvis’s head. “He’s only staying with me temporarily.”
As if that was pushing her patience to the limit, Irene glanced at the heavens. “Well, can’t you tie him up outside? I don’t allow dogs in the store.”
“I would, except I don’t have a leash for him.”
A leash. A collar. Food and water bowls. You know, all the essentials a person needed for the care and feeding of a dog. But first she’d have to borrow some money from her mom and stepfather.
So much for being a strong, self-sufficient woman.
“I’m heading to the mall to get him one,” Sadie continued, “but wanted to stop and say hi, let you know I’m in town—”
“I already knew you were in town,” Irene said. “Your sister told me.”
Figured. Sadie loved her little sister, but she’d always been a tattletale.
“I got in late,” Sadie said, Elvis following her as she wound her way around racks of designer clothes, Irene watching the dog as if ready to leap on his back if he so much as thought about leaving a dog hair on a precious silk blouse. She stopped in front of the checkout counter, across from her mom. “So...I’m in town, Mom. It sure is nice to see you.”
Irene, still thin, blond and a stunner at fifty-four, smiled. Definitely stunning. “I’m sorry, dear.” She hurried around the front counter, enveloped Sadie in a hug. “It’s wonderful to see you.”
Sadie held on tight. No matter what their problems—and she and Irene had more than their fair share—they both knew the other loved them unconditionally. She shut her eyes and breathed in her mother’s perfume—Chanel No. 5, of course. Classy, elegant and timeless, just like Irene.
Being in her mother’s arms was familiar. Safe. Sadie didn’t want to let go.
Irene leaned back, her smile fading when she saw Sadie’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Sadie averted her gaze. Damn her mother and that ability to read Sadie’s thoughts, to always know when she was hiding something and, worst of all, when she was lying through her teeth.
“Laura,” Irene called to one of her three part-time employees, “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
Laura, a cute blonde who looked to be at least thirteen months pregnant, glanced over her shoulder from where she was working on a display of silver necklaces. Smiled. “Okay.” She waved. “Hi, Sadie.”
“Hi, Laura. Good to see you.”
Sadie followed her mother toward the back of the store. On Sundays, WISC was open from ten until two, a nice little window, Irene had once explained to Sadie, for people to stop in after brunch or church, but closing early enough so that Irene still had the majority of the day free. As it was just past ten, and the store had only been open a few minutes, no customers milled about. But there would be people in there soon. Her mom ran the most successful clothing store in the area.
Everything her mother did was successful.
Well, everything except Sadie.
“Watch that tail, dog,” Irene told Elvis, whose wagging tail came close to knocking a display of cocktail rings off a low table.
Elvis hung his head.
No one could dole out the reprimands like Irene. Luckily, she was equally good at dishing out the compliments. But only ones that’d been earned. When Irene said something nice about you, you knew she meant it.
Sadie snapped her fingers and Elvis sidled up next to her. They walked through a large stockroom into a kitchenette.
“Tea?” Irene asked.
“Sure.” Sadie sat at the small table while her mom put a kettle of water on, retrieved two cups and put a tea bag in each one.
Sitting across from Sadie, Irene folded her perfectly manicured hands on the table. “How have you been?”
“Good,” Sadie said, matching her mother’s polite tone. They were nothing if not polite to one another. Oh, they loved each other, but Sadie thought her mother was too concerned with appearances and what other people thought than in supporting her eldest daughter’s decisions. Irene worried that Sadie was wasting her life and would end up alone.
A distinct possibility.
“How about you?” Sadie asked.
“Honey, I’m fine. Now, let’s get back to you. What’s wrong? And please, don’t try to tell me ‘nothing’ again. I know you too well.”
Sadie wasn’t so sure about that.
Irritated, still reeling from her conversation with James, she shifted in her chair like a wayward two-year-old. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
Irene reached across the table to clasp Sadie’s hand. Her eyes, the same light blue as Sadie’s, were shrewd and saw way too much. “Because you’re home.”
For some crazy reason, Sadie found herself wanting to tell her mom everything. Admit to everything, all the decisions she’d made that had led her to this point, all the mistakes. She knew her mom would help her, but she wasn’t in the mood for the whole disappointed, where-have-I-gone-wrong lecture that came along with that help.
The kettle whistled and Irene went to make their tea. Chewing the inside of her lower lip, Sadie rubbed Elvis’s head, which was in her lap. But she hadn’t confided in her mom in years. Oh, they didn’t fight—Irene was too composed to resort to arguments. But she did set pretty high standards for her daughters, and if you didn’t meet them, didn’t fall into line with what she thought you should do, who she thought you should be, she let you know it.
But she was always there to help Sadie get back on her feet.
Sadie wished she could appreciate it more instead of just feeling like a huge failure. To come crawling back to her mommy was humiliating.
Somehow, some way, this was all James’s fault.
Irene set the teacup in front of Sadie and placed a plate of fancy cookies in the center of the table. Sadie chose a sugar-dusted molasses cookie and bit into it. She groaned. “Delicious. Homemade?”
Irene made a humming sound as if Sadie should know better than to even ask if Irene Ellison would give anyone—even her prodigal daughter—store-bought cookies.
Sadie took another cookie, nibbled on the edge, then palmed it and slid it onto her lap. Kept her expression smooth as she lifted her hand so Elvis could eat it.
“Please don’t feed your dog at the table,” Irene said, not even glancing up from where she studied the plate of cookies before making her own choice—shortbread.
“You should really think of taking that whole ESP thing on the road.”
With a secret smile, Irene lifted her cup for a sip. Sadie added two teaspoons of sugar to her tea and stirred it. Stirred and stirred and stirred while Irene calmly, patiently drank her own tea.
Waiting her out, Sadie knew. No one did that whole sit-and-wait-and-the-other-person-will-soon-crack tactic like Irene. She would have made a great cop.
“I need a place to stay,” Sadie admitted.
“I see. Did something happen between you and James?”
Sadie stared at her tea. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you usually stay with him.”
“Well, this time I’m not. I’d like to stay with you.”
“That’s a change.”
Yes, it was. For as long as she could remember, Sadie had wanted to get out from under her mother and stepfather’s roof. To live her own life free of their rules.
To live life like her father had.
Irene glanced at Elvis. “And does the dog that’s staying with you temporarily need a place to s
tay as well?”
“He does. But only until I find his owners or someone to adopt him.”
“Is he house-trained?”
“Yes.”
“And up-to-date on his shots?”
“Definitely.”
Probably. Maybe. She glanced at Elvis, but he didn’t pull out an immunization record, so she’d just have to go with her gut. And hope she could slip this one little fib past the human lie detector.
She held her breath while her mom mulled it over. If she said no, Sadie didn’t know what she’d do. She’d never been homeless, not really. But it was a distinct possibility now. She could ask Charlotte to let her bunk on the couch, but her sister would have to run it by her roommate first.
And honestly, it was lowering to ask your baby sister to get you out of a jam.
Especially when that baby sister was more accomplished, more responsible and way more mature than Sadie ever hoped to be.
But she couldn’t leave Shady Grove. Without money, she had nowhere else to go. She also couldn’t afford a hotel room, and while she had quite a few friends in town still, most of them were married with families, jobs and their own busy lives.
Her throat clogged. This was, without a doubt, the absolute worst morning of her life. And that was saying something. She’d left James’s house in a daze, stunned that he’d thrown away a lifetime of friendship.
Hurt that he’d dismissed her that way because she couldn’t give him what he wanted. Couldn’t be who he wanted her to be.
“Mom,” Sadie said, her voice thick with emotion. She cleared her throat. “Can I come home? Please?”
“Honey,” Irene said, getting up and walking around the table to crouch next to Sadie. She wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Of course you can. You’re always welcome, you know that.”
Sadie sniffed, fought the urge to throw herself into her mother’s arms and bawl like a baby. “You don’t think Will will mind?”
“Don’t be silly. You know your father loves nothing more than having his girls home.”
Willard Ellison wasn’t her father, though. Yes, he loved her and had always treated her like his own daughter. But she’d never been able to think of him as her father. Not if she wanted to keep the memory of her own dad clear and strong in her mind.
Loving Will too much had felt like a betrayal to Victor.
Irene gave her one last squeeze and straightened. “But—”
Sadie groaned. “Why is there always a but with mothers?”
“All the better to annoy our children,” Irene told her. She rinsed her cup, set it in the sink. “Since you’re bringing that dog, there need to be a few rules.”
Of course. There were always rules at her mother’s house. You couldn’t outgrow it.
“You,” Irene continued, “and only you, will be responsible for his care. I will not feed him, not once. Nor will I walk him or let him out to take care of his—” she wrinkled her nose “—business.”
“Agreed.” Sadie thought about adding a sharp salute, but had enough sense to resist.
Irene turned, faced her, her hands linked at her waist. “Now, I take it you have employment lined up while you’re here?”
She usually picked up money tending bar at a local spot, but that wouldn’t be enough to cover the cost for her to go to California. “I’m going to talk to Gordy this afternoon, see if I can take a couple of shifts at O’Riley’s. But I’m also looking for something during the day.”
“You could work here.”
On a surprised laugh, Sadie dropped the cookie she’d been slipping to Elvis. It fell to the floor, but he didn’t eat it, just looked at her.
It took her a moment to realize her mother was serious. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? You’re great with customers. And you’ve always had an eye for color.”
“It’s just that this is your thing.”
“My thing?”
Feeling as if she’d somehow hurt her mother’s feelings, Sadie rose. “Your hobby.” One bought and paid for by her husband, Dr. Ellison, a local ophthalmologist. “Besides, you know I’ve never been one to follow fads or trends.”
And Lord knew her mother’s store catered to those trends. And to the women who could afford to spend a couple hundred dollars on a pair of jeans just because they had someone else’s name on the tag. It wasn’t like they were stitched together with gold, people.
“It was just a suggestion,” Irene said, but her voice sounded weird. Strained. “I guess I’d better get back to my little hobby now.”
Uh-oh. Definitely hurt her feelings.
“Mom, I didn’t mean—”
“Shall we expect you for dinner?” Irene asked.
“Sure,” Sadie said slowly. “Is it all right if I drop my stuff off at the house?”
“Of course. Goodbye, dear.”
“’Bye.”
But her mother had already walked away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“JUST TO LET you know,” Maddie said Tuesday afternoon as she helped James lay the floor in one of the bedrooms at Bradford House, “the workers are talking mutiny.”
Using a mallet, he hit the plunger of the flooring nailer, nailing a board to the floor. Grunted.
She set her hands on her hips above her tool belt. “Did you grunt at me? Really? Just when I think having three brothers couldn’t get more annoying, one of you proves me wrong.”
He straightened. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that you’ve been moody, grumpy and a general pain in the ass for the past two days. You yelled at Art and he’s like...eighty years old.”
“He’s forty-seven.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Well, he looks older. A good reason right there not to smoke.”
James sighed. “Maddie...”
“Oh, right. Anyway, you’re pissing off people left and right. Which isn’t like you at all. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine. But you’d better do something. Get therapy or have someone help you pull your head out of your ass. But stop snapping at your coworkers before they decide working alongside someone as witty and awesome as me isn’t worth putting up with you.”
He didn’t want or need advice, especially from his younger sister. He’d had a rough few days. He was entitled, wasn’t he? Christ, he’d finally slept with the woman he’d been in love with since he’d been ten freaking years old only to cut her out of his life completely.
He deserved to be grumpy for a few days. Maybe even a week.
“Are you done?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”
“Good.” He picked up the next piece of flooring and set it in place. Grabbed the nailer. “Then we can get back to work.”
“You’re not still upset about Bree going to breakfast with Neil today are you? Because she’s really looking forward to hanging out with you this weekend.”
“I’m looking forward to it, too.” Even if it meant getting used to his new position in his niece’s life.
Even if it meant acknowledging that now that Bree had her father in her life more often, she didn’t need James. Not like she used to.
Which proved he needed to focus on his own life. On moving forward.
It’d proved how right he was to finally let go of his crazy, stupid dreams regarding Sadie.
“Does this have anything to do with Sadie?” Maddie asked, watching him shrewdly.
He missed the plunger, hit his knee. He dropped both, straightened and hopped over to the wall for support and carefully straightened his leg. “Son of a bitch.”
He glanced at Maddie, but instead of sympathy, his s
ister stood there looking as if he’d gotten what he deserved. “I take it that’s a yes?”
Rubbing his knee, he glared at her.
Maddie, of course, wasn’t intimidated in the least. “Because after work yesterday, I stopped by WISC looking for a dress to wear to some fundraiser Neil is taking me to when Bree and I fly out to Seattle in a few weeks, and Irene said Sadie was staying with her.”
“Not interested.” He crossed to the corner, grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler Maddie had brought. Drank deeply. He hadn’t let himself wonder where Sadie had ended up. But if he had let his guard down enough to let her into his head, he would have thought she’d end up with Charlotte. Or one of her other friends. She’d always felt so stifled at her mom’s place.
“Well, I was interested, seeing as how Sadie usually stays at your place. What’s the deal?”
“Drop it, Maddie.”
“Did you two kids have a fight?”
He finished the water, crushed the bottle. “Damn it, I said drop it.”
Her eyes widened, and she crossed to him. “Oh, James. You did it, didn’t you? You told her.”
Foreboding touched the back of his neck, cold and clammy. “Told her what?”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “That you’re in love with her.”
“Aw, Christ.”
“You did,” she breathed. “What did she say?”
“What do you think she said? And how the hell did you know anyway?”
“I’m your sister, but more importantly, I’m a woman. And I know you. I see how you look at her when you don’t think she’ll notice.” She removed her ball cap and hit it against the side of her thigh. “I figured once you finally stopped messing around and were honest with her, you two would...”
“Would what?” James asked, hating that his sister had seen what he’d tried so desperately to keep hidden. If Maddie had seen his feelings for Sadie, who else knew? It was demoralizing to realize he was an open book, and yet Sadie had been shocked when he’d admitted how he felt about her.
It was humiliating.
Maddie’s expression softened. She felt sorry for him. Okay, it was worse than humiliating. It was pathetic.