Can't Stop the Feeling (Sinclair Sisters 2)

“Yes, today.” Maybe she could do it over the phone? From Spain.

Three smiles of triumph met her words, and a cold dread ran up her spine. Had they been lying to her? Conning her? She wished one of her sisters were here—they’d be able to tell. The ability to read people had skipped right past her in the Sinclair family tree.

“We knew we could depend on you,” Flora said sweetly. “You have a good heart.”

In other words, she was a soft touch. She didn’t need the ability to read between the lines to know that—her sisters told her often enough. Donna the Doormat was her family nickname, and she couldn’t thank her sisters enough for it.

“We knew you wouldn’t let us down,” Joyce added.

“That’s why we sent out the invitations months ago,” Ann said.

Donna’s stomach jolted in shock and then tried to crawl up her oesophagus to escape. “The invitations have gone out already?”

“Of course,” Joyce said. “You can’t leave it to the last minute to invite people to an event like this. Not to mention, you have to allow time to organise the thing. We decided we’d best have the groundwork done, in preparation for you getting us permission to use the manor ballroom.”

Donna gaped at them. They seemed completely oblivious to her shock. Either that or they didn’t care. She suspected it might be the latter.

“We’ll have a great turnout this year,” Joyce carried on. “Having it at the mansion is a big attraction for folk. Nobody’s been able to get in there since Fiona died—well, unless you’re one of the contract workers doing the place up. Made me wish I’d trained as an electrician.”

Flora elbowed Joyce. “What she means is that we’re really excited about raising enough money to help those families.”

“And the babies,” Ann said. “Don’t forget the babies.”

Joyce rubbed her side. “Do you sharpen those damn elbows? I have osteoporosis, and I think you just broke one of my ribs.”

Flora rolled her eyes. “It was just a wee jab.”

“Don’t worry,” Ann said. “We’ve still got a couple of weeks ‘til the ball, and like Joyce said, we’ve done most of the prep already.”

“A couple of weeks?” Donna said. “As in two?”

They consulted each other with a look.

“Almost three,” Joyce said.

She was going to faint. “The ball’s in less than three weeks? At the mansion? The one you don’t have permission to have a ball in?”

“We aren’t worried,” Flora said. “We have faith in you to sort it. Don’t we girls?” The other two nodded. “After you talk to Duncan, why don’t you stop by my house for a nice cup of tea and a slice of cake to celebrate?”

“And don’t worry about anything else,” Joyce added helpfully. “We’ve heard Grace Blain is going to be your new cook. We all know Grace, so we’re happy to arrange caterers and kitchen access with her. Just leave that to us.”

“Nobody will bother Duncan,” Ann said.

“Nobody will bother him?” She practically screeched. “You’re having a party in his house. How will that not bother him?”

This was getting worse with every word coming out of their mouths. She eyed the travel agent across the street and wondered if Esther could sort her out with a one-way ticket to Spain.

“Well, we mean with the arrangements, of course,” Ann said. “We’ll keep all of our dealings to you and Grace. He won’t even know we’re there.”

“Aye, we’ll liaise with you over the decorations,” Flora said. “And the sound system. We’ve got a great band this year. It’s going to be the best ceilidh the Mull of Kintyre has ever seen. I’ll email you the details. Or I can message you. Or we can Skip, no wait, it’s Skype. Are you on Facebook? I can friend you.” She grinned wide, clearly proud of her online abilities.

“Well,” Ann said. “I think that about covers it. We’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks Donna,” Flora said.

“Should we leave her like this?” Joyce looked sceptical. “She looks a bit shocked.”

Ann waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll be fine.”