The Father Factor. Lilian Darcy

      “Fights.”

      “Fights?”

      “Yelling. Ryan never yells. It reminds me of his dad.” Who was a difficult man, Shallis knew. “I don’t like it.”

      “No, of course you don’t.”

      “And I don’t think he does, either. He’s always hated the thought of getting like his father.” She took another gulp of her drink, let it roll around her mouth for a moment, then swallowed and squared her shoulders. “Okay, can we close this subject for the moment?”

      “Well, if you want, but—”

      “What I want is to hear about your appointment with Mr. Starke today.”

      She only said Mr. Starke, ran Shallis’s thoughts. If she’d said Abraham, I would have been obligated to say, no, it was Jared. This way, I can let her think it was his grandfather, if I want.

      Yeah.

      Right.

      That level of honesty between sisters? After Linnie had just more or less admitted to a serious fear that her marriage was in trouble, on top of everything else? When Shallis had come out here pretty much on purpose to tell her about seeing Jared?

      No.

      “Well, I convinced Mom not to come, in the end,” Shallis began. “She really didn’t need to. And that was good, as it turned out, because it wasn’t Mr. Starke, senior, it was his grandson, who’s taking over the practice for a while. Jared.”

      “Jared,” Melinda echoed blankly. “Jared?”

      “Yes.” Your old boyfriend, Linnie, whom I would have stolen from you at sixteen, if I’d had the power. The one who dumped you, then tried to get you back at the altar, when you were marrying the man who was perfect for you.

      “But he lives in Chicago,” Linnie said. “City of big shoulders and hogs’ breakfasts, or whatever that poet said.”

      “Carl Sandburg. But I don’t think the hogs’ breakfasts bit is quite right.” Although Jared’s shoulders were certainly big enough… “He’s taking some kind of break.” Shallis took a breath. “And he was pretty helpful, actually. Professional. Sensitive. He said we could take our business over to Banks and Moore in Carrollton if we wanted, or let him get things rolling and then hand over to his grandfather as soon as he gets back.”

      “Where has he gone?”

      “Smoky Mountains. Fishing trip. Lo-o-ong fishing trip, Jared thinks. I went with the second alternative, but I have to ask how you feel about it, Linnie. You’re the one whose life he tried so hard to mess up. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want anyone in the Duncan family to have anything to do with him.”

      “He’s probably not someone I’d enjoy having around, true,” Linnie agreed slowly. “In any personal sense, that is. You know, for fun family barbecues, and stuff. But the way I’m feeling right now, it would seem so petty and unimportant to sack the family law firm just because its temporary new partner spoiled a few of my wedding pictures six years ago.”

      “He did a heck of a lot more than that, Linnie!” Shallis put down her drink, most of it untouched.

      “You know what I mean. Jared didn’t change the bottom line. Ryan and I had a beautiful wedding, and we—” huge foggy voice alert “—love each other.” The words were barely even a whisper.

      “He tried to tell you that you didn’t love Ryan at all!” Shallis’s indignation rose. “He hung around at the reception like a bad odor, with a nasty smile on his face.”

      And I flirted with him to keep him away from you, and part of the time I enjoyed it.

      “You sound as if you mind about it more than I do.”

      “I’m just worried about you, Lin.”

      “Thanks. But worry about the important stuff, okay? Our marriage, and our fertility, not Jared Starke. Keep him to deal with Gram’s estate, because it has to be more convenient that way. I expect he’s changed a lot now. Grown up. We all have.” Her face said very clearly that Grown-up Land wasn’t always a fun place to be. “You said he acted like a professional this morning?”

      “Yes, he did.” And so did I, thank heaven.

      “So give him the benefit of the doubt.”

      This is not what I wanted you to say, Linnie. You were supposed to give me the perfect way out…

      Shallis hadn’t realized until just now that this was what she’d been hoping for. So who was the person she really didn’t trust?

      Herself?

      Was that possible?

      Ohhh, yeah!

      “Did you get a chance to ask him about that strange property tax bill?” Linnie was saying.

      “Yes, and he’s going to look into it.”

      “Was he concerned?”

      “He thought it seemed a little odd. But don’t start worrying about that…”

      “…on top of everything else. No, I won’t. I think I hear Ryan. Are you staying to eat?”

      “Can’t. I have a function at the hotel tonight. I’ll say a quick hi to your hubby, then I’ll head back to town.”

      “So you only came out here to break it to me about Jared in person?” Linnie took another mouthful of her drink. She gave a wan smile which suggested it was sweetly funny of Shallis to think the issue important enough to warrant the price of the gas, and the wear and tear on the car.

      Illogically this only made Shallis feel even more fiercely protective about her sister, and even more determined not to risk hurting her in any way. She said her hello to Ryan, and under the cover of a sisterly hug managed to whisper in his ear, “Look after her. She’s hurting today.”

      “I know,” he answered, gruff and male and helpless. He’d never been big on fluent speeches, but his heart was in the right place. “I can tell just from her face.”

      Shallis was back in town at ten after six.

      This was the house on Chestnut Street. Number Fifty-six.

      Shallis slowed the car and pulled close to the curb. She must have passed this place dozens if not hundreds of times in her life, but she’d never really looked at it before. The street contained a mix of Victorian architectural styles, and there’d been a mix of changes made to the original dwellings over the years, also. No two houses were alike.

      Some of the best places in the street had been gorgeously restored for use as suites of doctors’ and dentists’ offices, elegant dwellings or the kind of bed-and-breakfast inns that featured in glossy travel magazines, but Number Fifty-six hadn’t. Made of a rust-colored brick, it seemed a little tired.

      The guttering needed some attention, and so did the floorboards of the wraparound porch. The garden looked as if it received regular care, however. The lawn had been recently mown, and the shrubbery in front of the porch was free of weeds. But the bushes themselves were gnarled and old.

      Was anyone living here?

      From the street, Shallis couldn’t tell. She parked the car, then sat in it for a moment, debating her options. Several people at the Grand Regency would commence predictable panic attacks if she wasn’t back by six forty-five, but the hotel was only three minutes drive from here, right around the block, and everything had been under control when she left. She had a little time.

      She climbed out and went to the small metal mailbox. Tentatively lifting the back flap, she saw two or three days’ worth of junk mail inside. Maybe whoever lived here was away. If the place was unoccupied, someone was definitely collecting the mail. The flap of the mailbox squeaked as she lowered it shut.

      She