Three Sisters

He was wrong, she told herself as she made her way back to her SUV. How could he think that about her? She loved her children. She devoted her life to her family. She had nothing for herself. She was defined by her relationships, by her love for them.

She started the engine and slowly drove back to her house. As she made a turn, the folder slipped off the seat and papers scattered on the passenger-side carpet.

She’d been so sure, she thought bitterly. So prepared. She’d known what she was going to say, going to demand. Now she was left scrambling, unable to figure out what exactly had gone wrong.

Humiliation seared through her, making her skin burn. Had he talked to the girls about this? Did they all know what had happened? She would expect Madison to be gleeful, but the other girls, the younger ones, the twins, they were her babies. They loved her. She was their mother.

But Deanna realized she was less sure than she had been an hour ago. It was as if someone had picked up her entire world and shaken it before putting it down again. While everything was where it was supposed to be, the seams weren’t straight and the edges didn’t line up.

She turned at the corner and started up the last hill. The three houses, the Three Sisters, came into view. The sight of hers, so beautifully restored, usually calmed her, but not today. Not now.

Apparently she hadn’t sat in the park as long as she’d thought because Colin was still in the driveway. All five girls crowded around him, hugging and talking, each struggling to be the one who carried his suitcase.

She slowed, then came to a stop in the street and watched as her children smiled at their father. They were so happy to see him. She could hear their excited voices and their laughter. They practically danced for him.

A few days ago, the scene would have filled her with contentment and pride. So many fathers weren’t interested in their children, but not Colin. He’d always been involved with the girls. Now she understood that he’d had a plan all along. A desire to take everything from her. To hurt her.

Deanna waited until they’d all gone inside, then parked next to his car and went into the house. Loud conversation came from the kitchen as each of Colin’s daughters vied for his attention. She took the stairs up to their bedroom and closed the door.

She leaned against the sturdy wood and struggled to keep breathing. She wouldn’t cry, she told herself. Wouldn’t let him know he’d gotten to her.

She crossed to the bed and grabbed one of the corner posts. She held on, gasping for air.

The unfairness made her want to scream. She’d sacrificed everything for Colin. Had created this perfect life he now complained about. She was a good mother. She was! How dare he judge her? He got to leave every week. She took care of all the details, she had to manage every crisis, while he got to come and go as he pleased. He was always the returning hero. She was the parent who reminded the children to brush their teeth.

Bitterness rose like bile in her throat. She hung on to the carved wood with both hands, digging her nails into the varnished surface. Hatred filled her. Resentment and anger blended into a poison.

Damn him, she thought viciously. Damn them all.

Chapter Four

ANDI STOOD IN front of the coffeepot. “Come on,” she murmured. “Hurry. I’m seriously desperate.”

Water gurgled over grounds, then dripped out as dark, magic elixir. Andi held her mug where the carafe usually sat and waited until the cup nearly overflowed, then expertly put the carafe back in place and took her first sip.

Life, she thought happily, the hot, caffeinated liquid slipping down her throat. Life and promise and a gradual easing of the sleepy dullness blanketing her brain.

She pushed her hair out of her face and tried to remind herself that she loved the house. She’d uprooted her life for a reason that had seemed very compelling at the time.

“More coffee,” she said aloud. “Then I’ll remember why I thought this was a good idea.”

She crossed the attic floor and stared out the window. She might be living in tight quarters, but she sure couldn’t complain about the view. From up here, she could see across the whole west half of the island. Beyond that the sound sparkled in bright morning sun. Right now, coffee in hand and nothing horrifying dive-bombing her head, she could see the potential. At three in the morning, not so much.

A truck pulled into her driveway. She glanced down, wondering who could be visiting her at eight on Saturday morning. It wasn’t as if...

“Crap,” she said, putting her coffee on the windowsill and glancing down at the oversized T-shirt she slept in. “Double crap.”

Zeke, her contractor. They had an appointment. Something she would have remembered if she’d had more than four hours of sleep in the past three nights.

She ripped off her T-shirt, pulled on jeans and fastened up a bra. After grabbing the same shirt she’d worn yesterday, she shoved her feet into sandals and hurried down the stairs. She paused at the second-story landing long enough to pull the shirt on and smooth it into place.

Aware that she hadn’t showered since she’d arrived and that her hair looked like something out of Halloween 5, she was grateful she’d at least brushed her teeth. Civilization required standards. Hers might not be especially high, but at least she’d kept some.

She jumped down the last three stairs and headed for the door at a run. She pulled it open just before Zeke knocked.

“Seriously,” she said with a laugh. “You drove? You live—”

Next door. The words stayed on her tongue as her jaw dropped open. Because the guy standing in front of her wasn’t Zeke King, her contractor and neighbor.

Zeke was tall, with dark hair and a nice smile. Good looking, she supposed. But even if that exact description could be used for the man standing in front of her, nothing about them was the same.

While his height was probably within a half inch of Zeke, he looked taller. His hair was darker, his smile brighter. Sexier, she thought, carefully closing her mouth and wishing desperately she’d showered and put on makeup. Maybe that great suit that made her look as if she actually had curves and hey, boobs.

“Morning,” the man said, his voice low and smoky.

Her unpainted toes curled ever so slightly.

“You must be Andi Gordon. I’m Wade King. Zeke’s brother.”

Zeke had a brother?

There were a few lines by Wade’s eyes, and the planes of his face were more sculptured. She would guess he was older than Zeke by a couple of years. If she hadn’t spent the past decade getting her heart trampled by a no-good jerk who’d left her at the altar and then had married his secretary two weeks later, she just might have wondered if Wade was single.

“Andi?”

“What? Sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m not all here. Come on in.”

She stepped back to allow him entry into the house.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You said you’re not all here.”

“Oh, right. Lack of sleep. I have bats.”

Wade laughed.

She suddenly found him slightly less sexy. “I’m not kidding. I have bats and no hot water. When I’m awake I’d say the lack of hot water is the bigger problem, but flying rodents are keeping me up at night.”

He dropped his worn backpack onto the dusty floor. “You really hate bats.”

“I hate anything that flies into my hair at three in the morning. I’ve been beating them back with a broom.”

“I’d pay money to see that.”

“I’d pay money to get them gone. Do you know the percentage of bats that carry rabies?”