The Secret Sister (16 page)

When he cursed, the panic she'd been feeling rose in her throat like bile. “Why are you bringing this up now, Maisey?” he asked.

He sounded impatient, as if he didn't want to deal with the subject—didn't even want to be reminded of it.

“Because I know she existed.”

There was another protracted silence. Then he said, “How?”

“I have pictures.” She hated to think what offering him actual proof might do. Her brother didn't need another stumbling block. She'd come here to help him, protect him, encourage him. She doubted that drawing him into her confusion and fears would fall in line with those goals. But maybe whatever had happened to the girl in those photos was part of the reason her brother couldn't function normally in life. Maybe validating his thoughts, feelings and memories would give him a chance to work through the past and provide him with some peace of mind. Besides, only Keith could confirm or alleviate Maisey's fears.

“Where'd you get pictures?”

When she explained, he said nothing.

“You still there?” she asked.

She heard him take a deep breath. “Yeah, I'm here.”

“After seeing these photographs, it's like...I remember her,” she added.

“I remember her, too,” he admitted.

Maisey felt her mouth drop open. “Why haven't you ever said anything before?”

“My memories aren't clear, and you're younger than me. I thought maybe I was crazy, imagining things. Or that it was a cousin or a friend.”

“You could've at least
asked
.”

“Why? Something about the possibility made me uneasy. Things were hard enough. I didn't want to examine it too closely. Besides, you've always been happy. I didn't want to mess you up if it turned out I was right. I just kept telling myself those memories couldn't be real. I still want to believe that.”

So did she. But they
had
to be real if she and Keith shared them, didn't they? “Where'd she go, Keith?”

“Who knows?”

“Who knows?”
Maisey repeated. “
Someone
must know. Children don't just...disappear!”

“She did,” he said. “She was with us one day and gone the next, and I never heard Mom or Dad speak of her after that. No one else, either.”

“Have you ever
asked
Mom about her?”

“I tried. Once. I told her I remembered playing with someone.”

“And how'd she respond?”

“She beat me for even mentioning it. Then she said I had no idea what I was talking about and that I just wanted to start trouble. I never dared to bring it up again.”

Maisey picked up the photograph that featured Josephine holding the hand of this mystery child. Their mother wouldn't be able to deny the girl's existence if Maisey presented proof. But if this was something their mother had reason to hide, Josephine could go to great lengths to do so, which would only make it harder to reach the truth.

The truth... Did Maisey even want to go after it? Was she prepared to handle what she might find? “Do you remember which housekeeper we had at the time?” she asked Keith.

“No,” he replied. “And once more...”

When he stopped talking, she dropped the pictures she'd been holding into the box and got up to pace. “Are you going to finish that statement?”

“Once more, I think it would be better, for everyone concerned, if you...if you forgot about whoever she was.”

A blast of anger shot through Maisey. “You're most likely talking about our sister—one of us! Don't you think we owe her a little more than to ignore she ever existed?”

“My life is screwed up enough as it is,” he said.

“At least you've had a life for thirty-some years. That may be more than she got.”

“If she's gone, nothing we do is going to bring her back, Maisey.”

Had he really just said that? “You're assuming she's dead, then.”

There was no response. He'd already disconnected.

16

T
he next morning, Saturday, wasn't a good one for Maisey. After spending so many hours worrying about the pictures Rafe had brought her, she'd gotten very little sleep. And Josephine stopped by Love's in Bloom shortly after they opened. Maisey wasn't prepared to withstand her mother's critical eye, so she watched with a touch of anxiety as Josephine moved briskly through the shop, checking this, telling Nancy to order that, frowning when she found the slightest detail not to her liking.

Nancy followed her, smoothing a shirt and slacks that were as tight as all her other clothes. Given the criticism she was hearing at every turn, she had to be feeling inadequate, even though she was doing a superb job of running the business.

Maisey smiled as Nancy approached—to let her know not to worry too much—but she couldn't actually say that. Her mother was right behind Nancy and looked up a second later.

Maisey directed her smile at Josephine next, and received a curt nod but no greeting.

“I'll clean the glass out front again,” Nancy told Josephine, “and make sure we don't stack the arrangements too close together.”

“That front area should be an arrangement in itself,” Josephine said, continuing her lecture. “Those display cases are important. They give us the opportunity to instill confidence in anyone who walks through the door, to assure them they've come to the right place if they want flowers.”

“That is
such
a good point,” Nancy murmured. “I can see it now.”

Josephine paused next to Maisey and plucked out all the silver brunia she'd added to the wedding bouquet she was building. “Get rid of those. They look tacky,” she said with a grimace. “Simple is always more elegant, and elegant is the name of the game for a wedding. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Maisey wished she could launch an argument for keeping the silver brunia, but she could see the improvement almost immediately. No one had an eye for beauty quite like her mother.

Josephine moved on. Not until she was satisfied that she'd discovered and discussed every imperfection did she return to Maisey's worktable. “Are you settling in okay?”

Her mother's rejection of the silver brunia, and her irritation over it, had stung. Maisey was out of practice; she could've used a few words of encouragement. But her mother had always set her expectations high.

Maisey wondered if she'd
ever
be able to reach them. “I am.”

“Any word from Keith?”

Maisey kept her eyes on what she was doing. “No, I haven't heard from him. You?” She wasn't sure why she lied—partly to stay out of their power struggle and partly because of the loyalty she felt toward her brother, she supposed. In order to survive their childhood, they'd had to stick together.

Josephine frowned. “He won't contact me, not until he's destitute. But you know I'll hear from him then.”

The longer Nancy helped him, the longer he could go on...

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” Her mother's expression lightened as she changed the subject.

“I wasn't aware I'd been invited.”

When Josephine focused, once again, on Maisey's bouquet, Maisey was tempted to hide it. But this time Josephine merely gathered up the cast-off leaves and stems. “Pippa will be in touch,” she said as she dropped the rubbish into the trash can nearby. “She probably doesn't want to call you first thing in the morning. But she's making pasta, and it's always spectacular. I wouldn't miss it, if I were you.”

Telling her what she'd be missing if she didn't accept the invitation was as close as her mother ever came to saying, “I'd like you to be there.”

Maisey was already exhausted. But they were nearly caught up on their orders, so she was only planning to stay until two. That meant she should have time to take a nap before dinner, if only she could get her mind to shut down instead of circling repeatedly back to those damn pictures. Even while she worked, she'd been arguing with herself. She kept insisting that she must be mistaken in thinking she'd had a sister. Or, if a sister had once existed, there must be a logical reason for that sister to be gone. A terrible accident had taken her life. Something like that. And her parents had been too heartbroken to ever speak of it.

Maisey knew how that felt, didn't she?

But her mother was too practical for that sort of emotion. And it wasn't just that her parents had never mentioned a sibling.
No one
had. Not a servant or an aunt or a cousin. Surely their father would've eventually said something, no matter how sad he was. Maisey didn't plan on pretending Ellie had never existed. In her mind, that dishonored the memory of the little girl she'd cherished.

“Well?” her mother prodded.

Maisey managed a smile. “What time?”

“Six. I don't like to eat too late.”

“Can I bring anything?”

Josephine seemed surprised. “Like
what
?”

“It's the polite thing to ask when someone invites you to dinner, Mother,” she said. “I could get the wine or bring dessert, so Pippa won't have quite as much work.”

“Pippa's well-paid to do her work. Besides, polite or not, since when have
you
ever brought anything to my house?”

Maisey bit her tongue. She'd been twenty-four and just out of college when she left the island. Had her mother expected her to bring something to dinner back then? Not only had she been young, they'd been so at odds they could hardly have a civil conversation.

Maisey was aiming for a fresh start, hoping that if she treated her mother with more respect, she'd get a little respect in return. But Josephine had to get that jab in. “Never mind,” she said. “Sounds like you have everything you need.”

Her mother didn't seem to care that Maisey had withdrawn her offer. “Pippa will make sure of it.” She opened her umbrella, since it was beginning to drizzle outside. “Remember, don't be late.”

If she
was
late, her mother would start without her, then give her the silent treatment. Josephine punished anyone who didn't put her wishes and plans above their own.

Maisey shook her head as Josephine hurried off.

Nancy came up behind her. “Your mother's an interesting person, isn't she?”

Maisey gave her a rueful smile. “Yes, I'd have to say she is.”

“She means well.”

Maisey was trying to believe that after a decade of believing otherwise. Josephine did have many impressive qualities. Not only was she beautiful, she was smart, strong-willed and extremely self-disciplined. And, in most instances, she'd been justified in meting out
some
kind of punishment when she'd spanked Keith. Keith had given her parents
so
much trouble, trouble he could easily have avoided. Having witnessed what had happened on both sides, Maisey could sympathize—to some extent—with all parties, except that Josephine never expressed any regret when she hurt him too badly, never showed any doubt that such a harsh spanking had been just the thing for such a wayward, headstrong boy.

“I'm sure she does,” Maisey said.

“She helps a lot of people.”

Her mother did contribute quite a bit to charity. “She has her moments.”

“She offered to pay for me to join Weight Watchers.”

Nancy's take on that was so generous—to assume Josephine cared about her health and well-being when she made that offer—that Maisey liked Nancy even more. “Did you take her up on it?”

“No. I was afraid it would cause a problem between us. She's so...particular. I didn't want her judging everything I put in my mouth, thinking if I went off track that I was wasting her money.”

“Sounds like a wise decision.”

Nancy toyed with the ribbon on the counter. “Your brother has some serious issues with her, but I keep telling him that she loves him, in her own way.”

If Nancy was looking for confirmation, Maisey wasn't the one to ask. She believed Keith and Josephine loved each other, on some level, but she thought the opposite was also true. “Speaking of my brother... I heard from him last night.”

Nancy averted her gaze. “That's a relief. He's okay, then?”

Maisey placed the last lady's mantle spray in her arrangement and turned so she could give Nancy her full attention. “You know he's okay. Don't you?”

Her mouth opened and closed as if she was searching for an answer. Then her shoulders drooped, and she sent Maisey a sheepish look. “Yes, yes, I do.”

“Is he staying with you?”

She seemed reluctant to answer this question, too, but finally she nodded. “I'm sorry.” She sounded genuinely distraught. “I would've told you, but he...he asked me not to. And it's not like he's been with me the whole time,” she added. “He wasn't on the island for the first few nights.”

“You really did give him money so he could get a room?”

“Not a lot. Only enough to...to go somewhere and calm down.”

Nancy had no idea how long “helping Keith” could stretch on. He always had a great excuse when he needed to borrow money, and he could be very convincing with all his promises to get clean and pay it back. When he was in a good mood, he had so much charisma that it was only after frequent bad behavior on his part that his friends cut him off or started to avoid him.

But Maisey didn't want to undermine Nancy's belief in him. Maybe Keith cared more about Nancy than Maisey had cynically assumed. Maybe, for her, he really would change.

“Nancy, you are
such
a nice person. Please...be careful to...to look out for yourself.”

That was about all Maisey could allow herself to say. Fortunately, Nancy seemed to understand that the sentiment behind those words went a bit deeper.

“
No
is a hard word when you're in love with someone, isn't it?” she murmured.

Maisey slipped her arm around the other woman's shoulders. “He needs to overcome his addiction before he gets serious with anyone.”

With a nod, Nancy went into the office.

From then on, except for when they had a customer, they worked in silence. At two, when she was ready to go home, Maisey felt as though they were finally on top of the business that had come in but she was even more exhausted than she'd expected to be.

And it was still raining.

The air was brisk as she scootered home. Soon it would be downright cold and the roads would be slick. Driving a scooter didn't seem so practical with winter coming on, but Maisey wasn't about to spend what funds she had left on a car. She figured she'd bundle up, if she had to, get by somehow.

By the time she reached her bungalow, she was so chilled she could hardly feel her hands.

Waterproof gloves would be one of her first purchases, she decided.

“Maisey? Is it you?”

The sound of that small voice had Maisey searching the shadows. A moment later, she saw Rafe's daughter. She was under Maisey's bungalow in a harness tied to one of the pilings, and she had two little chairs, a small table and a pile of toys beside her. It looked strange to see a child of five restrained like this, but Maisey knew Rafe had to make sure his daughter didn't hurt herself. What else was he going to do when he couldn't watch her every minute?

But why was she
here
? Where was
he
?

She was about to ask when Rafe strode to the front of her porch and peered down. Because of the overhang, she hadn't noticed him there when she pulled in.

“You're soaked,” he said.

“I never thought the drive from town could seem so long.” She shielded her eyes from the drops that were still falling. “What's going on here?”

He gestured toward her house. “Laney and I thought you might like to have your shutters fixed.”

“Are they done, Daddy?” Laney asked.

“Not quite, bug. We just got here, remember? It takes a bit longer than that. But I'm working on it.”

Maisey slipped the strap of her purse over her head. She had to wear it across her body while riding the scooter. “You don't have to spend your Saturday working on my account.”

“We haven't been working,” Laney said. “We went running on the beach. And then we played on the sand. And then we had lunch. And then we cleaned our house. And then Daddy said it would be nice if we fixed your place up so you'd be surprised when you got home.
Are
you surprised?”

Her excitement was endearing. “Most definitely,” Maisey admitted, starting toward her. “I feel guilty for taking up your father's time, though, especially if it leaves you stuck under my house.”

“I like playing here.”

Rafe probably thought it was a good place, too. She was safe, out of the rain, she had space to do what she wanted with her toys and she wasn't underfoot.

“I'm going to be fixing this place up, anyway,” Rafe called down. “Might as well do it sooner rather than later so you can enjoy it.”

It was difficult not to think of how she'd broken down in front of him last night. Was he feeling sorry for her? Was this a result of her tears?

She couldn't forget how she'd behaved afterward, and how firmly he'd pushed her away. She'd been stupid to go over to his place when she was so upset. “That's nice of you, considering...”

He leaned on the railing as he gazed down at her. “Considering?”

She glanced at Laney. “Considering it's an imposition,” she finished instead of mentioning her erratic behavior.

“What are neighbors for?” he said.

Maisey wiped the rain from her face. “Can Laney come in with me?” No way could she leave the child tied to the pilings under her house now that she was home. Since this was hurricane country, the houses were built high and people used that space almost like a second porch—or at least a storage area—and Rafe had set her up comfortably. But there was no longer any need to keep her restrained.