The Maxwell Sisters (7 page)

She choked. Memories. Images. Pain. That's all he brought back. She sighed in relief as he removed his hand from her chin, though in reality she felt more trapped than ever.

Phoebe slung an arm around her, nearly bowling her off her feet in her enthusiasm. ‘Isn't it great, Tash! Heath's project is finishing early and he agreed to help out with the restaurant!'

‘Finishing early?' She mouthed the word, wide-eyed.

‘Yes.' Phoebe misinterpreted her softness as worry. ‘He wanted it to be a surprise so I kept it a secret too. I mean, of course, I hope he gets more work. But for now, he can stay with us and help with the wedding. And that's a bonus, isn't it? A big family holiday.'

Heath raised an eyebrow at her, his lips curling in approval. She knew what he was doing, he was giving her the opportunity to blow the whistle, letting it be her choice.

Wow.
Anger arced through her body.
How magnanimous of him.

As though she would announce to her family now, in front of Spider's parents (whom she didn't even know), that their marriage was over and she didn't want him here.

She ground her teeth. How had he even known about the wedding, about coming a month early to help with the preparations? Had Phoebe gone behind her back and invited him? But why would she do that when she had specifically said he couldn't make it?

Maybe he'd just turned up by chance. Her mind raced at the possible conversation scenario.
‘Hi, guys, I'm divorcing your sister and was in the neighbourhood so I just thought I'd pop by and mention it.'

Oh yeah, that sounded completely likely.

So what was his plan? Were they supposed to pretend to be happily married? For how long? To what end? If she'd had an excuse to march him out of there immediately to demand answers, she would have. Instead, she had to play along as Phoebe introduced her future parents-in-law.

‘Tash, this is Patricia and Graeme, Spider's parents.'

‘Lovely to meet you.' She held out her hand to shake theirs. ‘Are you staying at the house?'

Patricia nodded. ‘Yes, we are and looking forward to it too. It's a beautiful home. You girls were very lucky to have grown up here.'

‘Thank you.'

Anita walked in with a plate of locally produced brie and cheddar. Tash loved the smoked waxed cheddar made by the Margaret River Cheese Factory that went excellently with her father's tempranillo.

‘Say cheese,' her mother joked.

Tash caught a shadow of movement and realised that Heath was positioning himself by her side. ‘I'll have some,' she croaked and immediately followed her mother to the coffee table, where she extended her stay there by cutting slices for everyone else. After a while, she caught Eve studying her carefully.

Had she noticed anything particularly amiss in her behaviour?

She dusted her fingers, put the cheese knife down and retreated to the window. In her haste to get away from Eve's concerned stare, she realised she'd forgotten to cut Spider a piece of cheese. She was just about to return to the coffee table to complete the task when Heath joined her, holding out a glass of her father's semillon sauvignon blanc, which she took gingerly.

‘So,' he murmured. ‘Long time no see.'

Fortunately, she was saved from having to answer him by the sudden and awkward arrival of her father. The doors to the sitting room flung open and John Maxwell himself staggered in, seemingly unaware that he had company. He was thinner, browner and more weathered than she had ever seen him but he looked in fine spirits. Literally.

The smell of wine had walked in with him, along with a handsome young man. This stranger stared at the gathered group, who had stopped talking to look at them.

‘Er, John …' He pulled Mad Maxwell's shirt from behind, causing the old man to jerk back and stop. ‘Is there something you forgot to mention?'

‘What?' John looked up, taking in first the startled face of Patricia Fitzwilliam and then her husband, Graeme, who happened to be standing closest to him. His eyes widened momentarily and then he cleared his throat. ‘Now, Adam,' he whispered hoarsely over his shoulder, ‘don't be alarmed, but I think we're at the wrong house.'

Eve covered her mouth in shock as her father began to back up towards the door. He'd always been the playful sort, but this was ridiculous.

‘If we walk out quietly,' he was whispering to his companion, ‘they may not notice we were ever here.'

This second man, in Eve's opinion, should have been named Adonis, not Adam. He had curly blond hair, startling blue eyes and creamy skin that showed every flush or heightening of emotion.

The faint pink tinge in his cheeks and twinkling eyes showed that he was enjoying her father's tipsy retreat very much. With shoulders so broad, and arms so masculine, Eve couldn't imagine a more comfortable haven than to be nestled against that very, very fine chest in front of a roaring fire. She blinked stupidly at the swift and lethal fantasy.

Where the hell did that come from?

She shoved the thoughts from her mind, like a bouncer pushing a drunk out of the bar.

Greek Gods and roaring fires? You didn't get enough sleep last night.

It was true enough. Her first day in Yallingup had been hard. Returning home was like flicking through the pages of an old diary filled with dreams that had never come to fruition. There were so many things she had tried to achieve here and failed. But transferring her unrequited love from one man to another wasn't going to help her either. She had to find balance within herself and accept the things she could not change.

Spider and Phoebe were getting married. They were very much in love.

Look at them.

Her eyes darted involuntarily in their direction. Her sister's hand was tucked neatly in his, her body pressed up against his side. It didn't matter what feelings Eve had had or even that she had harboured them for years. They were erased,
or should be
, by the simple and irrevocable fact that he now belonged to Phoebe and always would.

There was no room for her in this picture, except as a supportive sister.

And you need to get a new best friend!

She had come to this conclusion on the drive down. She simply could not continue a close relationship with Spider and move on emotionally. It was impossible. A little like her father attempting to look sober right now. It was strange to see him staggering on his feet. John Maxwell had always been a little eccentric, but he had never needed alcohol to achieve the effect before.

‘Don't you dare, John,' Anita said, detaching herself from the group and coming forward. ‘Where have you been?'

Her father's expression transformed from stealthy cunning to innocent surprise. ‘Anita,
sweetheart
.' He spread his arms wide. ‘There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you.'

Anita was not impressed. Her arms were folded and one small foot tapped menacingly. ‘I've been home all day.'

Eve had been with her, helping to prepare the spare bedrooms for their guests. Eve had listened with half an ear to her mother complain for hours that their father was ‘running too wild'. It was true that she had noticed a few odd things around the house, particularly the new car she'd seen parked in her parents' carport when she'd first arrived. It seemed to be one of those classic cars from the 1970s, fully restored to its former glory – a Holden Torana or something. She wasn't that into cars, let alone classic ones, but she knew her father had had a love of Holdens back in the day. She didn't think it was unreasonable if he wanted to spoil himself in retirement and so hadn't placed too much stock in her mother's worry … until now.

‘Where have you really been, John?' Anita asked again.

‘Er …' Her husband's face clouded in concentration. In the end the question must have got the better of him because he turned back to Adam. ‘Where have we been again, son?'

‘Horace Franklin's cellar,' Adam announced.

John rolled his eyes. ‘My dear boy, that's a terrible cover story. I could have done better than that and I'm drunk.'

‘Dad,' Phoebe came forward, her arm immediately looping through his so that she might lead him to the couch, ‘I thought we agreed that you were going to take it easy from now on?'

His eyes lit with pleasure at the sight of her. ‘I am taking it easy, Phee. And having a little fun as well. What are you doing here, my girl? Doing the old pop-in, drop-in.' He seemed confused. ‘Or is that what I'm doing?'

‘No, John,' Anita whispered hoarsely, ‘everyone's here. They've all arrived to help out with the wedding.'

‘Already?' He glanced apologetically around the room. ‘I thought you said they were coming on Saturday.'

Anita's face reddened. ‘Today is Saturday.'

‘Oh! That explains it then.' He nodded as though a complication had just been sorted out. ‘I'm sorry, love. I'll try to act sober.' He wobbled a little as he sat down on the couch opposite Eve's. He folded his hands neatly in his lap and buttoned his lip. The image was so indicative of a young boy deciding to behave well in class that Eve couldn't help but smile. Catching her watching him, he winked roguishly at her, immediately belying all evidence that he intended to behave.

Phoebe was not as amused by the exchange. She sat down beside him, taking one of his hands. ‘Dad –'

‘Stop fussing, love.' He pulled his hand away. ‘I'm not an invalid.'

‘Quite the contrary actually,' Anita confirmed tartly.

‘Is there any water?' asked Tash, who was still standing by the coffee table. Eve noticed she had been acting rather cold and cagey since she had arrived. She had hoped that time might have mellowed the bad feeling between them but it didn't look like it.

Her older sister was dressed in a pair of well-tailored black slacks and a satin blend blue top with a scooped neckline. The average corporate executive might wear this sort of getup to work but Eve knew that for Tash, this was casual wear. Her sister would wear nothing but suits to the office. Designer label, if possible. But if you had the perfect figure, the perfect legs, the perfect hair, why wouldn't you?

Eve sighed. It was no wonder Tash could never understand where she was coming from. It must be easy to look down on lesser mortals when you had everything going for you. Good looks, great job, wonderful husband. When you couldn't imagine what life was like on the tail end of secrets and disappointment, why shouldn't you have high expectations?

Yet even as her heart squeezed with the weight of the ordeal she had irrevocably signed up for, she was not unhappy that Tash was there. Her sister had not snubbed her earlier and that, at least, was something. She was relieved to know that they could still converse on some level without creating a scene, because if there was one thing Eve hated more than anything, it was being at the centre of conflict.

Her father, on the other hand, thrived on drama.

‘Water,' he scoffed. ‘Where is last year's cab sav, Tash? It'll put the colour back in those pale cheeks of yours.'

‘Not for me, Dad,' Tash said quietly. ‘For you.'

‘There's some on the desk by the bookshelf,' Eve found herself saying. Tash looked up and as their eyes met they seemed to instantly fall back into the pattern of their childhood – where Tash was the leader and she the follower. ‘I'll get it if you like,' Eve automatically added.

‘Thanks,' Tash nodded.

Eve got up and started to walk towards the desk by the door but found Adonis directly in her path. His proximity suddenly made her nervous. She was so busy keeping her head down that when he sidestepped out of her way she moved in the same direction, intending to walk around him. They ended up doing a rather awkward cha-cha-cha before he grabbed her by the shoulders and neatly set her aside.

‘I think you mean to go that way,' he said softly.

Her ears burned as she took off again towards the water, cringing.

Somebody kill me now.

After getting the water, she took a different route back to the centre of the room, not willing to risk a repeat of her idiocy. She hadn't been this skittish since high school when the mere mention of the word ‘boys' could make her giggle. She was a mature adult now who knew reality better than anyone. Adonis was out of her league. Men like that did not look twice at her, especially when both her sisters were invited to the same party. Besides, he was not even her type. He was far too sexy. All biceps and brawn, with a face like an angel. He belonged in a fairytale, not in her reality.

She preferred her men more real. More wholesome. More dependable and roguishly handsome – like Spider.

Men as god-like gorgeous as Adonis tended to know it, which usually made them insufferable company. Far better to steer clear.

By the time she got back to the couch, Phoebe and Natasha were already seated there on either side of her father. They had both seized the opportunity to get his attention while she had rushed off to get stuff organised. How familiar the scene was. As a young girl, she had often thought of herself as the Cinderella of the family. Only the analogy was definitely flawed – neither of her sisters were ugly and her life was still a pumpkin.

‘Here, Dad, drink this.' She held out the glass of water to her father and sat down on the edge of the coffee table.

He took it rather absentmindedly as he gazed at each of his daughters in turn. ‘Look at you all.' He sipped his water. ‘All of you in the same room. My beautiful girls. My life is literally flashing before my eyes.'

‘Dad,' Phoebe's tone was rather high-pitched, ‘what were you doing in Horace Franklin's cellar?'

‘Settling a bet, my darlin'.'

‘A bet about what?'

‘That my cabernet merlot had more vanilla. I've always thought so,' he nodded confidingly. ‘So I brought a bottle of mine and he took out a bottle of his.' His thumb jerked over his shoulder. ‘Adam, here, was supposed to make the deciding vote. Sadly, his palate wasn't up to scratch.'

Adonis coughed rather defensively. ‘That was because –'

But her father cut him off. ‘No, no, it's all right, son, I'm telling the story.'

Adonis bit his lip. He had a generous, laughing mouth. She was glad he seemed to get along with her dad. She had wondered whether her father would resent the new winemaker now that he was retired but it appeared not to be so. Adonis raised an eyebrow at her and she realised that she had been staring at him too long.

She yanked her gaze to the painting on the wall, pretending that the depiction of the ancient rock formation called Canal Rocks was what she had been studying the whole time.

As though you don't already know that scene like the back of your hand.

She returned her attention to her father.

‘The truth is,' he was saying, ‘Horace's wine just doesn't get the right oak. I've always said that French barrels are better than American.'

‘Since when do you hang out with Horace Franklin?' Tash demanded.

‘Since he became good company.' John grinned.

‘Retirement,' Anita remarked from the sidelines, ‘has finally matured them both, I think. But where are our manners? Patricia, Graeme, as you may have already guessed, this is my husband, John.'

‘The Mad Maxwell of Tawny Brooks Wines,' Graeme grinned. ‘To be honest, I hadn't given the local rumours much credit.'

Her father stood up rather unsteadily but managed to shake both their hands. ‘My apologies. I'm not normally like this, I assure you.'

‘Really?' Graeme seemed vaguely intrigued.

‘Yes,' he nodded. ‘Wine mellows me.'

Patricia's eyebrows jumped and her father grinned at her. ‘You must be Spider's mother.' He chuckled as if reliving some private joke. ‘My wife has been looking forward to your arrival for weeks.'

Anita glared at him and Patricia's lips tightened as she turned a rather interesting shade of splotchy pink.

Graeme took this moment to intervene. ‘Thank you for allowing us to stay here,' he said smoothly. ‘Patricia was just telling Natasha how beautiful we think the house is.'

‘My wife makes it beautiful,' John murmured. ‘I just live here.'

‘That's not true.' Anita's voice held both protest and pain. It tripped another set of alarm bells in Eve's head. It seemed odd that her mother would take such a complimentary statement to heart unless something was going on. She was so wrapped up in herself, her sisters and Spider that she hadn't really given much thought to how her parents were doing. It was so easy to take them for granted. They were always there and, like the house, never changed … or so she had assumed.

Unexpectedly, Adonis spoke up next. In fact, to her absolute approval, he seemed to be making his retreat. ‘Well, it was nice meeting you all.' He spread his arms as he backed towards the door. ‘Hope you have a nice evening, but it's about time I got back to the lab.'

‘You can't test samples now,' John disagreed. ‘You've had too much to drink. Besides, it's past clock off.'

‘I didn't have that much,' Adonis protested. ‘And considering I was out all afternoon looking for you, I think I should put in a few extra hours.'

‘Well, I'm the boss.' Her father shook his head. ‘And I say you don't need to.'

‘Yes, Adam,' Anita added her endorsement, ‘stay and have another drink.'

‘But –'

Her mother used the firm tone Eve recognised from childhood. ‘Dinner will be on soon too. You might as well have it with the rest of us.'

Eve watched fascinated as Adonis's face flushed deliciously, his gaze sweeping the room in the manner of a lamb prepared for sacrifice. ‘I just thought, given it's a
family
gathering, you guys might have a lot of
family
matters to discuss.' He continued to look about the room for support but found none.

Eve lowered her eyes, smiling at her hands. Was it sadistic to take pleasure in discomfort that wasn't her own?