Yesterday's Scandal (The Wild McBrides 3)

Apparently deciding he’d come too close to crossing her personal line, Brad backed down, but not by much. “Nothing,” he muttered.

“If I thought you were making a slur against Mr. Cordero’s ethnic background, I would send you to your room and make sure you didn’t come out again until the school bell rings in the fall. I will not tolerate any form of bigotry in my household, is that clear? But I’m sure that’s not what you meant, because our mother did not raise us that way.”

His hands shoved in his pockets, Brad stared at the floor, refusing to answer.

“Mr. Cordero will be joining us in about an hour. You will wash up and prepare yourself to be polite, understand?”

“I bet Jerry won’t like it that you’re spending so much time with this guy.”

“I don’t consult with Jerry before I invite someone to dinner. Jerry and I are friends, Brad. That’s it.”

Brad looked suddenly stricken. “You’re not going out with this Cordero guy, are you?”

Choosing her words carefully, Sharon answered, “I like Mac. He’s an interesting man. He and I are working together on the renovation project, so I will be spending quite a bit of time with him during the next few months. If you would just give him a chance, I’m sure you would like him, too.”

“Why can’t I just go to Jimbo’s for dinner?”

She was tempted to let him, just to avoid any unpleasantness in front of Mac. But it seemed too important to teach her brother about proper behavior—and especially about tolerance. She didn’t know which of his friends had been filling his mind with such garbage, but she had no intention of letting it go on. “Because we’re having company for dinner and I want you to be here. Now go get cleaned up.”

Muttering beneath his breath, Brad stamped upstairs. Sharon watched him worriedly, wondering what was happening to her little brother. Was this typical teenage behavior, or something more? She wished Caleb and Bobbie McBride were in town. Their practical, sometimes blunt advice, along with their experience at raising teenagers, had been valuable to her on many occasions.

Shaking her head, she went into the kitchen to start dinner, hoping she hadn’t made a big mistake in inviting Mac to join them.

The telephone rang fifteen minutes before Mac was due to arrive. Sharon answered on the kitchen extension. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Mom.” Casting a quick look around the kitchen to make sure nothing needed her attention at the moment, Sharon leaned against the counter for a chat. “How’s the Riviera?”

“Oh, darling, it’s wonderful. I wish you and Brad were here to enjoy it with me.”

Sharon was sure that was true. Lucy had always believed in the more the merrier. Unfortunately, she’d never quite gripped the concept that “more” also involved more money. “I’m glad you’re having a nice time.”

“I miss my babies, of course. How are you and Brad?”

“We’re fine, Mom.” She decided against telling her mother about Brad’s growing rebelliousness. There was nothing Lucy could do about it long-distance. And little she would do, even if she were here, Sharon admitted to herself.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be home. I thought maybe you’d have a date with Jerry.”

“No. Not tonight.” That was something else she had no intention of discussing just now. The list of safe topics was shrinking rapidly, she thought. “Tell me what you’ve seen and done since the last time you called,” she prompted.

Lucy immediately launched into an eager and colorful monologue that Sharon could only half follow. Keeping an eye on the clock, she made appropriately interested noises. At five minutes until seven, she broke in to say, “Do you want to talk to Brad before you have to go?”

“Of course I want to talk to my little boy.”

Sharon almost sighed. Lucy’s “little boy” was five-eight and a hundred forty pounds. Three inches taller than Sharon and twenty pounds heavier. Sharon could only catch glimpses of the sweet-natured child he’d been. And she wished she could better understand the moody young man he’d become. At least if her mother was here, there would be someone to share the worry. “I miss you, Mom. I’ll be glad when you’re home.”

“I know, darling. Just a few more weeks.”

“I’ll get Brad for you.”

Brad took the call on the phone in his room. Sharon had just replaced the receiver in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She’d asked Brad not to upset his mother with his complaints. She hoped he was complying with her request.

“What’s wrong?” Mac asked when she opened the door.

She immediately smoothed her expression. “Nothing. Come in.”

Being Mac, he didn’t let it go at that. “Something’s bothering you,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “What is it? Is there anything I can do?”