Fire and Ice. Diana Palmer

her eyes. “I put a terrible strain on your marriage, didn’t I?”

      “No!” Margie said vehemently. “No, the strain was there from the beginning. And what did he expect me to do, throw you out in the street? You’re my sister. I love you.”

      “I love you, too,” Jan said, leaning on Margie’s shoulder.

      “Anyway, he seemed to be such a nice man. I didn’t know that he liked to drink and party every night. He never seemed to overindulge before we were married.”

      “And you would rather have been walking in the woods or fighting the government over conservation measures.” Jan laughed. “But Margie, all men aren’t like Larry, you know.”

      Margie’s expression was wistful. “How can you be sure about a man until you live with him?” she asked. “I don’t trust my own judgment anymore.”

      Jan’s eyes were faintly troubled as she studied her sister. Few people were privileged to see Margie like this, with the mask lowered, the uncertainty showing. It hurt her terribly to think that Margie might go through life like this because of her failed marriage. Like most people in love, Jan wanted everyone to be as happy as she was. But she didn’t know how to help her sister.

      “We’ve gotten off the track,” Margie murmured, the smile back on her face like magic. “What were you so excited about? A chance to make Mount Rushmore change his mind?”

      Jan blinked. “Mount Rushmore?”

      “Cannon Van Dyne.”

      “Uh, yes, actually.” Her eyes were wary after the long conversation, and she hesitated. “Andy’s made a dinner reservation for four at Louis Dane’s tomorrow night.”

      Margie straightened and walked over to the curtains, her back as stiff as old Mrs. McPherson’s. “Four?”

      Jan nodded. “You, me, Andy…”

      “And…?”

      Jan swallowed. “Cannon Van Dyne.”