When they had completed the tour, Emma had peeled herself off the couch and was standing at the door of the living room, her shoulder propped against the frame. She openly took in Madeline’s clothes as she and Libby descended the stairs. Trudi was right again—Madeline felt conspicuously overdressed in comparison to these women. Wardrobe had always been the bane of her existence—she never understood how to dress for different occasions. She couldn’t latch on to ideas like Casual Friday, as there was nothing remotely casual about her Fridays.
Today, what she’d wanted—what she always wanted—was to present a professional, polished image. It was her shield of armor. But in that moment, looking at a comfortable Libby and a chic Emma, Madeline chided herself for thinking these shoes and this suit were a good idea.
“Well!” Libby said cheerfully, as if they were having a grand old time, “we’ve had the tour! Madeline, would you like some tea?”
“What? Oh, no. No thank you.”
“Water?”
“I’m good,” Madeline said.
“Are you hungry? I have some—”
“God, Libby, stop,” Emma said. She sighed, and Madeline had the impression that this wasn’t the first time Emma had told Libby to stop.
“Okay.” Libby smiled. But it was not the grin she had met Madeline with. It was much tighter. “Maybe you could tell us a little bit about yourself while we wait, Madeline,” she suggested. “I’ll be honest—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I mean, it’s so exciting to find out I have a sister. I want to know everything there is to know about you.”
Too much, too soon! Madeline wanted to say. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Libby was not one to take hints, because she suggested, “Well, what sort of things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?”
Hobbies. Her hobbies were work and taking care of her mother. She once had tried to learn to knit, but had put it down and never picked it up again.
“Scrapbooking?” Libby offered helpfully. “Sports?”
“Scrapbooking or sports?” Emma snorted disdainfully.
“What about siblings?” Libby asked, taking another tack. “Do you have any siblings?”
Surely she meant besides the two of them. “Ah… no. Just me,” Madeline said.
“I have two younger brothers. Twins,” Libby said. “Emma has a sister.”
“Stepsister,” Emma clarified as she studied her nail.
“Is your mother still alive?” Libby asked.
Madeline’s head was beginning to pound. Why was she on the hot seat? Why wasn’t she questioning them? She hated this, not knowing what to do. And she wanted to sit—her feet were beginning to hurt. “She is,” Madeline said. “Mind if I sit down?” She didn’t wait for a response. She walked into the living room and sat heavily in a chair.
“So when is the last time you saw him?” Emma asked without looking up from her nail.
“Who?” Madeline asked, confused by all the questions and the mention of siblings.
One of Emma’s carefully sculpted brows rose. “Your father. The reason we are all gathered here today like a litter of puppies. I am curious how well you knew him, because like I said, he never mentioned you.”
There was no reason that statement should bother Madeline, not after a lifetime of never being mentioned. But it did, and in a surprisingly strong manner.
“God, Emma, you make it sound like she’s making it up,” Libby sighed.
“Maybe she is,” Emma said. “I just find it very hard to believe that Dad could keep his mouth shut about her because God knows he couldn’t keep quiet about anything else.”
Something inside Madeline tipped, and out poured years of carefully controlled feelings about her absent father. “Are you kidding?” she asked.
Emma merely shrugged.
“Are you always so blunt?” Madeline asked.
Oddly enough, that made Emma chuckle with amusement. “Blunt is the least of what I am.”
“Don’t mind her—”
“I swear, Libby, if you tell her not to mind me one more time, I’m going to kick you. I have nothing to apologize for. I’m not the one who invited her here.”
“Wow,” Madeline said, truly taken aback. “Just to put your mind at ease, I didn’t ask for sisters, either. Like I said, I never knew Grant, so if you think I am here to rip your inheritance out of your hands, think again. I never asked for it, never wanted it.” She folded her arms, waiting for them to challenge her.
But Emma suddenly looked interested. “So this is really out of the blue?”
“Yes,” Madeline said, angry that she suddenly had to justify her appearance at a place she’d never wanted to come. “It was a complete shock when Jackson showed up in Orlando. I obviously knew I had a father out there in the world somewhere, but I never knew him.”
“Wow,” Libby said thoughtfully. “I assumed that you didn’t know him as well as we did,” she said. “I mean, Emma’s right, your name would have at least come up, but still… I thought you at least knew him. Why didn’t you? Did your mom keep you from him?”