The Christmas Sisters - Page 110

“The mash tastes funny,” Ruby said.

“Eat what you can and leave the rest on your plate.” Jason was clearly embarrassed by his younger daughter. He leaned closer and spoke to her quietly and Suzanne saw Ruby’s cheeks flush and her eyes grow shiny.

Watching her granddaughter took Suzanne’s mind off her aching head and tired limbs.

Posy had been a fussy eater, too. Cheryl and Rob had let her eat whatever she wanted, but Suzanne had been so appalled by the child’s diet it was the first thing she’d changed, and she’d done it without hesitation or guilt.

The only thing she’d never been able to persuade Posy to eat was carrots.

“I can’t figure out why your name is familiar—” Beth was still talking to Luke “—but in the spirit of honesty I must tell you I’ve never read your work, so I know it isn’t that.”

“His books are everywhere.” Posy reached for a jug of water and filled her glass. “Even if you haven’t read them, you will have seen them. That’s probably how you know his name.”

Beth was frowning. “Maybe.”

Suzanne noticed that Hannah was quiet.

Her hair had been blown into a smooth sheet, her skilled application of makeup giving her an air of sophistication.

She remembered Hannah the night of Cheryl and Rob’s death, waiting quietly in the house, cooling Posy’s fevered skin with wet cloths.

The police had offered to talk to the girls, but Suzanne had insisted she should be the one.

Drowning in her own grief, she’d forced herself back to the surface so that she could be a life belt for her best friend’s children.

Hannah had stared into space, until Suzanne had begun to wonder if she’d understood what she’d heard. The therapist she’d talked to briefly had emphasized the importance of using the word dead in the conversation, so she’d done that and winced as she’d said it, feeling as if she was hitting these already-bruised children with a rock.

She hadn’t known which child to deal with first. Each had different needs, and she had her own needs, but those had taken fourth place.

Without Stewart, she would have crumbled. Or would she? She’d been all those children had left, and she never would have let them down. They were her focus. Her reason to drag herself out of bed every morning, to battle the guilt and the depression, to haul herself into each day with a sense of purpose.

They’d been her life belt, too, she realized. Caring for them had forced her to care for herself.

“Wait!” Beth dropped her fork with a clatter and the conversation faded away. “Luke.”

Luke sat still. There was a watchfulness about him that hadn’t been there before. “Yes?”

“Luke Whittaker.”

Posy looked annoyed. “Beth, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but—”

“I know why your name is familiar. You left a message on my phone a couple of months ago. You wanted to talk to me about—” Beth stopped in midflow and her gaze snaked to Suzanne and away again.

Suzanne knew that look. It was the particular one her family used when they were trying not to mention the accident. She didn’t like talking about it, and they respected that.

But why would Beth think Luke had called her? And why was she using that tone? She’d never heard Beth speak so sharply.

She waited for Luke to deny that he’d left a message and laugh at the mistake.

He put his fork down, too. “You didn’t return my call.”

“You didn’t mention it,” Beth said. “When I met you in the café that day, you didn’t say who you were.”

“I introduced myself.”

“But you knew I hadn’t linked your name with that phone call.” Beth stood up quickly, her chair scraping the kitchen floor. Her voice was thickened, but whether from fury or hurt, Suzanne couldn’t tell.

Her brain felt slow, as if she was running behind everyone else struggling to catch up. She had a bad feeling about all this. A very bad feeling.

Tags: Sarah Morgan Romance
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