Her Reason to Stay (3 page)

“Right. Sorry.” She took the sweetener out of Daphne’s fingers, and Daphne met her sister’s gaze.

Again, Raina said nothing for several moments. Finally, she held her hand out. “I behaved like an idiot, but please take some time before you decide about me.”

Daphne took her hand. They shook as the girl from the counter approached with a tray.

Raina took it, her expression relaxing into a smile. “Thanks, Kyla.” She set her mug—tea—and a dish of sugar cubes on the table.

“Sure.” Kyla took the tray back, still staring from one to the other of them. “Call me if you need anything else.”

Raina grinned at Kyla’s retreating back. “She’s shocked. So am I, every time I look at you.”

“But you seem to be taking it in stride now.” Daphne sipped her coffee. “I thought you were frightened this afternoon. Now, you seem confident, like a woman with a plan.”

“My parents never told me I was adopted. Imagine opening a door and seeing someone with your face who tells you the last thing you want to hear.”

“What did you think? That I’d had plastic surgery or something to make myself look like you so you’d give me money?”

“I’m not suggesting we aren’t twins, but I’ve learned to be suspicious of everyone. I’ve already had guys ask me to marry them. Not because I’m so lovable.” She shrugged, and Daphne admired her ability to laugh at herself. “Which you may have noticed. But they each desired a piece of my net worth. My life is ludicrous, and you show up when I’m feeling most cynical.”

“When is a bad time to find family? All I wanted was to know my sister.”

That word felt strange to Daphne, not warm anymore. Raina ignored it.

“I do a lot of things well.” She dropped a couple of sugar cubes into her cup, and then she dipped her tea bag. “My mother taught me to pretend people aren’t staring at me and my companion in a coffee shop. She trained me to wear the right clothes for spring, although she probably would have checked the weather forecast before she put on white. She taught me how to appear cool under fire.” She tilted her head at a wry angle. “Only, I seem to have a problem with that one, too.”

“You’re not under fire. I want to know if we can be sisters.” A knot in her throat stopped her. She didn’t want Raina to realize how much it mattered.

But Raina noticed. “That’s what I mean. I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond. My parents lied to me. You’re looking for someone who could be your family. I’ve just lost the last of mine, and here you are, suggesting we could belong together.”

Belong together. Even Daphne hadn’t gone that far. Her heartbeat picked up a little pace. Speaking became difficult. This was why she’d come to Honesty.

Raina stirred her tea without touching the sides of the mug and set the spoon delicately on a paper napkin.

Suddenly, there was something Daphne had to know. “Did Patrick make you call me? He came after me because
he
was worried. This meeting was his idea.”

Raina looked straight at her for the first time. “You call him Patrick as if you know each other.”

Had he noticed she was attracted to him? “Should I have said Mr. Gannon?” What had Patrick said after he’d gone back upstairs? Had they laughed at her?

“That’s not what I meant, but you two spent a few minutes alone in an elevator, and suddenly you’re both different.”

Worse than laughing. “I took the stairs.”

Raina looked confused, but then she laughed, picking up her spoon again. She gave her tea another stir. “I overreacted. To you and to everything about our situation.”

“Being sisters? That situation?” Or was Raina staking her claim to Patrick? Suddenly, Daphne couldn’t breathe. She felt around for her own purse.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting out of here, once and for all. You don’t care that we’re sisters. You called only because you do what Patrick says.”

“No, no, no.” Raina said it as she would chide a young child, and she reached for Daphne’s wrist. She looked down. “My God, you’re thin. Don’t you ever get a square meal?”

Daphne wanted to run, but if she did, she’d never see Raina again. It was too much to risk.

“Will you let me say I’m sorry?” Raina let Daphne go, but her steady gaze suggested she might grab at Daphne again if she made a move toward the door.

Maybe they were both overreacting.

“Sorry,” Daphne said. “Maybe I seem confident, but trust isn’t my strong suit.” She wrapped her hand around her throat. Moments like this made her thirsty for more than just coffee.

“That’s something we share.”

Daphne flattened her hands on the table. “We share?” She hardly knew she’d said it out loud until Raina’s mouth began to move.

“Four guys, Daphne. Four requests to help themselves to the Abernathy portfolio, all during the past three months. And I’ve known these men since I was a child.” She sipped her tea. Her mouth was so tight, Daphne half expected the liquid to trickle down her chin. “One was a friend of my father’s. His age.”

Daphne slid her hands up her arms, over goose bumps. “I feel the ick factor, but you didn’t understand me.” Being blunt felt awkward. “I want to share—things—our past, the lives we want, the truth—with you. I want a real relationship, not a nodding acquaintance.”

She stuttered to a halt, but Raina’s smile switched on. “You have weaknesses, too.”

“That makes you happy?” That she was vulnerable? That one person left in the world could hurt her?

“No, not happy. But I can identify with you. I may look capable, but something happened to me after my mother’s—death.” Raina’s sadness made Daphne long to comfort her, but Raina had a formidable touch-me-not air. “As you saw in Patrick’s office, sometimes I’m barely able to function. I’m wondering where you get your guts, why you have them but I don’t.”

Daphne smiled. “That’s a funny word from you.”

“Courage, if you prefer.”

“I wonder whether we’re both brave enough to try being sisters.” Daphne eyed Raina over the rim of her coffee cup.

Raina drank her tea, honest-to-God splaying her little finger, then she set the cup in its saucer.

“Let’s get your things.” She pulled her suitcase-purse close to her chest.

“My things?” Raina had gone from shrinking in Patrick’s office to bossing the sister she hadn’t fully accepted yet. Daphne grabbed her coffee, telling herself it was too soon to move in together. “I can’t stay with you.”

Raina arched her perfect eyebrows. “You don’t have a job. Where can you afford to—”

“I have a room in a hotel. I sent you the address.”

“That place isn’t safe for a rat.”

Daphne ran a finger over her eyebrows, which could have benefited from the waxing Raina had obviously recently endured. “Don’t let anyone say you’re not a plain speaker.”

“I’m just suggesting you’d feel more comfortable, and we’d have more time together if you came home with me.”

“Just a few hours ago you accused me of trying to rob you. It’s pretty hard to forget what you said.”

“About?”

“Not having money for me, Raina. Now
you
want to adopt me. But you and your buddy Patrick might talk it over in a few days and decide I’d tricked you into giving me a room in your ritzy house.”

“Come on. I didn’t react well. Would you have done any better?”

Daphne stared at her. “I honestly don’t know. I’m very aware that I’m the bad bargain in this deal.”

“Bad bargain? What are you talking about?”

“Are you serious? Look at me. My clothes are rags compared to yours. My tastes are plebeian. I have nothing to give you.”

“I haven’t asked for anything.”

“Except to be left alone.”

“That’s over. Let’s think of how you can find a way to live here. You need a job, a home.”

She stopped, her gaze pointed.

“Raina, forget it. You own a palace and I’m peasant material.”

“And proud of it.” Raina clearly refused to comprehend. “Can you type? I’ll bet Patrick could find work for you.”

Daphne might have been annoyed if the seductive memory of Patrick’s hand sliding over her palm hadn’t made her push her fingers under her thighs. Getting close to Patrick would be courting danger. She’d learned a long time ago to ignore instant attraction. Her defenses must be down. “His charity won’t do, either. I’ll find something.”

Raina opened her mouth, but words didn’t come.

“You’ve also changed a lot since this afternoon,” Daphne said.

“I’m not stunned anymore.” Raina stirred another cube of sugar into her tea. “Now that we agree, come with me and we’ll get serious about what to do next.”

“We agree?” Raina’s enthusiasm put her off. Why had her sister changed her mind so quickly?

Raina ignored her reticence. She flicked the label on her tea bag. “This stuff’s horrible. I’ll take you to a place that’ll serve us something with some taste.”

“I can’t afford to waste food.” Daphne hated the slightly smug, pompous note in her own voice. “Sorry. I mean I can’t afford a meal in the kind of restaurant you’re talking about.”

“Oh.” Raina became deeply interested in Daphne’s scone. The door opened again, and watery sunlight revealed a pinkish blush on her cheek. “Maybe I’ll get one of those.” She leaned back, nodding her head to the beat of the jazz tune being played. Her eyes followed the swirls of burgundy and passion-purple paint, cut by dark beams. The lines around her mouth relaxed—almost. “I’ve never been here, but it’s not so bad.”

“So how do you know Kyla?”

“We go to the same church.” She waved at the young woman behind the counter. Kyla stared as if Raina’s chic dark brown coiffure had tilted of its own volition upon her head.

“You have to go up there to get one,” Daphne said.

“Really?” Raina sat up, feeling for her purse, but seemingly surprised to find it still in her lap. “Usually they come to me.”

Daphne smiled into her cooling coffee as her sister sashayed to the counter.

So far, nurture was winning hands down.

T
HAT NIGHT
,
as the temperature in Daphne’s rented room dipped below bone-chilling, she negotiated with the thermostat for more heat. The unit rumbled like a jet on takeoff, and Daphne gagged from the stench of burning dust. She was running for the door to let in fresh air when someone knocked.

The second she touched the chain, it fell out of its slot. She undid the dead bolt and opened the door.

Patrick Gannon stood outside, leaning back for a good look at the overloaded gutters. “You can’t stay here,” he said.

He hadn’t even glanced at her, but she studied his long, lean body, different in jeans and a black sweater. Different, but no less devastating.

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

“It was a hell of a greeting.”

He seemed to see her for the first time. Heat invaded his eyes. He could hypnotize an unwary woman with a single glance. But she couldn’t force herself to look away.

“One more wet leaf and the roof will cave in.” He might have been talking ham sandwiches and coffee. His words didn’t affect her half as much as his husky tones.

“I’m not afraid.” She shuddered. “Spring’s here, so I’m safe until fall.” Safe? Not unless she could get rid of him. She had to get a grip. “They’re giving me a monthly rate, and I can’t afford anything more plush.”

He walked in as if she’d invited him. She stepped out of his way.

“The room smells of mold.” He crossed to the heat, tapped the vents and then wiped his hands on his legs. “How do you feel about carbon monoxide?”

“Don’t say stuff like that. I scare easy.” She closed her mouth with a snap. “Honestly, I’ve stayed in far worse. None of the guests knifed each other in the parking lot last night, and I got a free show.” She pointed to the Crowded Beer Case, a drinking establishment whose red neon lights flashed through the gaps in her drapes.

“Maybe you should put in a bid to buy the place.” Patrick filled the room with broad, unlawyerly shoulders. His sweater, probably cashmere, hugged his chest and tempted Daphne to run her hands over the muscles so finely delineated.

“All right. It smells bad, and it’s not exactly brand new. Why are you here?”

At last he met her eyes. “Raina wants you to stay with her.”

“I thought she and I talked this out.”

“She knows this place, and she’s worried you might not be safe.”

“So she sent her mouthpiece again?”

“She always assumes people listen to me because she does.”

“And you did manage to stop me from leaving this morning.” She said it just to see how he’d react. Was the same half-unwelcome attraction bothering him?

He ignored her comment. “If Raina had any idea what this place was really like, she’d lobby city hall to tear it down.”

“I’m fine here.”

He shrugged, “give me a break” written all over his face. Daphne shook her head, feeling her skin flush.

“I appreciate that you’re both concerned, but I wish she’d stop sending you after me.” In the silence, she waited for him to leave. He stood still. “I’m fine,” she repeated. “You can tell Raina.”

Again, he ignored her jab. “I’d call the biohazard team if the town had one,” he said, still eyeing her. He gave a wry smile.

Against her will, she smiled, too. “You’re a funny guy.” She moved away from him, trying to escape the seduction of his nearness. “But I’m not living off Raina.”

“Come work for me. I’ll pay you enough to get you out of here.”

“Is that another one of Raina’s ideas?” She wanted to know about him—why he was so willing to drop everything for Raina. Did he have romantic feelings for her? Was that why he was working so hard to make friends with her? Even giving her a way of supporting herself so she could stay in Honesty.

Daphne reminded herself she was trying to live her life a new way, without bitterness or resentment. “I’ll find a job,” she said. “You and Raina don’t have to worry about me.”

“Why not give my firm a chance?” He caught her arm, as he had that afternoon. She stilled, aware of the heat and heaviness of his hand. “We always need word processing,” he continued.

He must not know about her criminology degree or those golden days when her skills had been in demand.

With her free hand, she rubbed her mouth, suddenly thirsty as she remembered the despair of the postacquittal years. She’d never totally managed to drown her sorrow in one bottle after another, but her efforts had nearly destroyed her life.

“What?” A frown etched two small lines into Patrick’s forehead. “I don’t doubt you’re capable.” His gaze dropped down her body as if he were brushing fingertips over her skin. Daphne wanted to step behind a barrier, because her breathing and her breasts and her heartbeat had all reacted to his glance.

“What am I doing here?” he asked, his own voice tight.

“That’s a good question.”

He let her go and stared at his hands as if he’d betrayed himself. “This is your sister’s problem. She should have come herself.”

“You’ve done what Raina asked.” Seeing his obvious distress, she took pity on him. “Besides, I don’t know anything about computers. I’ve never owned one, so I couldn’t do your word processing.”

In the way of amateurs everywhere, she’d gone one lie too many. His skeptical grimace made her laugh with some relief.

“Did I go too far?” she asked.

“Who hasn’t used a computer these days?” He touched her hair. The mere heat of his body drew her. She wanted to move closer, so she glued her feet to the floor.

“What did you do before?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said as the past unrolled like film in front of her eyes, the blood, the pain and the disappointment that hurt more than a physical slap. She stepped back, afraid that her memories might somehow leap into Patrick’s head. “I searched for Raina. Shouldn’t you go now?”

“I want to know,” he said, unmoving, but obviously not unmoved. The sympathy in his eyes was more than she could bear.

Something had happened between Patrick Gannon and her. Feelings that ran too deep considering their short duration. “Should we trade?” she asked. “I’ll tell you personal things about myself if you do the same.”

He backed away, reaching the door with no haste, but sending a message of rejection in his frozen glance. The room fell away behind her.

“Your way may be right,” he said. “I had no right to pry. We don’t know each other, but I forgot that.”

And she forgot to breathe. In that moment, she sensed that if she made a move, he would stay. And they’d start exploring their feelings for each other.

So she remained still. Patrick opened the door. “I’m late picking up my son.”

“Your what?”

He was married? Leave it to her to choose a married guy. No wonder her inner alarm had been clanging with such urgency. Almost a full year in AA, and she still wanted to do things that were bad for her, such as letting Patrick matter.

“My son.”

“You’re married? I thought you and Raina might be…”

“No,” he said with enough emphasis to make it clear he’d denied the suggestion before. “I’m her friend. I’m also divorced.” Rage vibrated in his tone. Before she had time to ask why, he reached for the door. “Daphne, this chain is a toy. At least get yourself moved to another room.”

“I will.” She’d followed like some kid, anxious for a last glance.

Patrick’s scent wafted around her. His skin carried a memory of outdoors and spice. Too much aching intimacy had no place between strangers.

He looked at his watch, accidentally exposing the too-fast beat of his pulse in a vein on the underside of his wrist. “I have to get my son,” he said again.

She nodded, taking the hint of a second reminder. He was trying to put the boy between them, and she was glad to let him.

He crossed the sidewalk to the parking lot. “You should give Raina a call. She might be right about this place.”

Daphne noticed his matter-of-fact tone. Maybe her feelings were coloring the way she looked at him. She knew how to resist. She’d had some problems, a major one with whiskey, but men with eyes like ice and bodies like sin had never been an addiction.

“Thanks for the advice.”

A chill April wind blew through the open door. Bits of paper whispered across the parking lot.

Beneath the streetlights, his shiny car stood out from the dull vehicles around it. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, struggling against an insistent need to call him back.

Patrick opened his car door. “Get moved to a different room.”

She patted her back pocket for her key card. “Yeah.” She shut her door and made a beeline for the window shielded by a smudged curtain and a white sign that dripped the word Office in black.

Only several moments after he’d turned the car in a wide, swift circle, without looking at her, did she move away from her lookout position.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
,
the college student on duty behind the counter at Cosmic Grounds came to Daphne’s table and passed her a red Sharpie. Smiling shyly, he said, “I found this for you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He was already gone, the back of his neck shiny red.

She ducked her head and returned to the classifieds of the
Honesty Sentinel.

Fortified by a cup of the kid’s strongest brew, she started her search. Pickings were slim, but she had to find something she could do. Then she’d worry about coming up with a résumé to impress a prospective employer.

Fifteen minutes later, she’d circled only three jobs that required no experience.

What would Raina think? It all depended on which Raina Daphne met here for coffee—the one who’d sat hunched in the corner of Patrick’s office chair, or the one who’d shown up at the coffee shop two days earlier. The second one didn’t seem likely to die of shame if her twin took a menial job.

Daphne rested her forehead in one palm and started at the ads again. She could always go back to jury consulting. Considering the mess she’d made of her last case, she could slip by the local jail and set the felons loose on an unsuspecting populace.

Inhaling with all her might, she swallowed hard. The negative stuff was getting too difficult to deal with on her own. She had to find a meeting. It had been over a week since her last one, but the thing they’d drummed into her addled head in rehab had been the importance of always finding an AA meeting.

“I thought I’d find you here. Good thing you keep coming, or they’d be out of business.” Raina’s voice at her side made Daphne jump.

Daphne set the marker on the table. “Hello, Raina.”

Today’s perfect outfit was a pink tweed suit and patent-leather pumps.

“Are you on your way to work?” Daphne asked.

“I had a meeting, but I’m planning to look for something like a job.”

“Like a job?”

“You know, one that pays.” Raina sat across the table. “My mother’s health began deteriorating after I finished college, so I helped her keep up with her charity work. We’re close to D.C., you know, but we’re such a small town in a small county. Our social services don’t always stretch to help everyone who needs them.” She smoothed her perfect hair. “When Mother couldn’t do everything she wanted, I did what she asked.”

“That’s good work.”

“But it was my mother’s. Not that I resented being her right hand. I enjoy helping people.”

“Who have you been helping? Children?”

“And adults. Anyone who doesn’t have a job. Anyone who needs something to eat.” She looked away and her uncomfortable expression made Daphne wonder if Raina thought she needed help, too.

“I’m fine. I don’t have your kind of money, but I don’t need to be rescued.”

Raina met her gaze straight on. “I wasn’t thinking of you that way. But I knew you’d take it personally.” She gripped another steamer trunk-size purse, this one in pale pink that matched her suit. “Remember, I accused you of coming for my money and I refused you before you got a chance to ask.”

“That’s true.” Daphne sipped her coffee. “I guess that proves something.”

“That I’m tactless?”

“No. That it’s easier to care for people you don’t know.” Daphne thought about all the people she’d assisted by selecting the juries that freed them. It had been great. She’d thought she was helping the innocent find justice until she’d actually learned the truth about her last client.

“I’d like to help you if you’d let me.” Raina flipped her bag open. She pulled out a square opaque plastic container, topped with a blue lid. “To make up for my heavy hand, I’ll admit I brought you breakfast. I’m sure they didn’t feed you at that hotel.”

“Let’s ask Patrick if anyone would be foolish enough to eat there,” Daphne said without thinking.

“He told me you were upset that I’d sent him.”

“Not upset.”

“You had every right to be. I don’t know why I didn’t come myself. Maybe then you’d believe I want you to stay with me.”

Her sister’s face revealed her regret. Daphne let her qualms go and leaned across the table to touch the container. “You cooked for me?”

“Not exactly.” Raina popped the lid. “I didn’t make it although I’m an excellent chef. But our cook made an egg casserole with prosciutto and Parmesan this morning—”

“
Our
cook?” Daphne pictured Patrick spooning something from a silver dish across a long table from Raina. Did he and his son live with her?

“Mine now, I guess.” Raina’s expression tensed and Daphne patted her hand.

“You mean she worked for your mother and you? I’m sorry.”

“Who’d you think might be living with me?”

Daphne wasn’t about to utter Patrick’s name. “No one.”

Raina’s skin stretched even more tautly across her high cheekbones. “Funny that we’re hurting each other even when we don’t want to. I’m not seeing Patrick Gannon. He’s been my best friend since childhood. His parents were my mother and father’s closest friends.”

“He says he’s divorced.”

“And he’ll be dealing with Lisa, who’s no picnic, until Will is out of college or older.”

She took another container from her purse and popped that lid, too, revealing fresh-cut strawberries, blueberries, grapes, pineapple and melon, all very tempting. Daphne licked her lips. She could see how Eve might fall for an apple.