“No.”
“Didn’t she have any on?” Beth gestured toward the wall.
“No,” he said again, not wanting to say She wasn’t wearing any pants either.
When he stood to get another box, he spotted a black marker on the workbench. “Do you want to label these?”
“Oh! Yes, that’s a good idea.”
Tony dragged another large box from beneath the workbench. Through a crack between the folded lid flaps, he saw what seemed to be more women’s clothing. So far, this wasn’t proving any more informative than the master bedroom inside.
“You and your brother seem to have some tension,” he commented, as he lifted out the top of a velour sweat suit—pink, of course. “Emily seemed to stay in the background.”
Beth looked up with familiar wariness. He’d love to see a joyful smile on her face.
“Losing Mom was really hard on her,” she said carefully. “She and Mom were close, maybe because they were a lot alike. Not just looks but personality and tastes. Although maybe their tastes had to do with their resemblance to each other.”
“That seems likely. Pink was obviously your mother’s color.”
That nose crinkled a little. “When I was little, she tried to put me in pink and purple, too. I felt like a moose when she made me wear some frilly, feminine thing. Once Emily came along, Mom gave up and let me wear whatever I wanted. It was obvious I’d never be girly.”
“You don’t see yourself as feminine?” he asked, sharp enough to widen her eyes.
“Well, not in the same way.” She shrugged, as if indifferent. Which he didn’t believe for a minute. “I like myself fine, but I’m certainly not dainty, or the kind of woman men rush to protect.”
I would. Tony clenched his teeth to prevent himself making a claim that would be as bad as his earlier temptation to tell her she was beautiful.
Color tinted her cheeks, and her eyes dilated at whatever she saw on his face. “Why are we talking about this?”
“I asked about Emily.” Voice rough.
Beth looked away from him. “There’s tension. She and Matt bickered all weekend. He didn’t want to be here and took offense at just about everything. Emily wanted those Christmas ornaments to remember Mom by, and she was really mad when he dumped them in the garbage, smashing them. And both of us shut her down when she wanted to go through Mom’s clothes to see if there was anything she’d wear. It was awful of me to react that way—”
“No.” He startled her with his interruption, but he didn’t care. “It was natural. I’m more surprised she’d want anything of your mother’s, given that you all thought she’d ditched you.” Which reminded him that he needed to talk to Emily. Was there any chance she’d seen something to make her suspect that, in fact, her mother was dead?
“She was younger than us enough that I always thought… I don’t know…that she wouldn’t remember Mom as well? Or…had adjusted better?”
“She was twelve. Not five.”
Her pale, clear skin colored easily. “I know, but…” Apparently giving up argument as useless, Beth said, “She has mixed feelings about me, of course. Suddenly, I was in charge instead of just being her sister. I think…she was grateful but also resentful. Which isn’t surprising.”
“I can see that,” he admitted. “My parents were Catholic, which means they had eight kids. I think in most big families like mine, the older kids automatically assume some responsibility for the younger ones, but that didn’t mean there isn’t resentment.”
Her eyebrows flickered. “I’ll bet you’re not one of the youngest.”
Tony grinned. “No, I’m the oldest. How’d you guess?”
“You wouldn’t have the job you do if being in charge didn’t come naturally for you. Quelling disorder, giving orders.”
“Bossy is how my sisters describe me.”
A dimple he hadn’t known she had flashed in one cheek. “You keep saying sisters.”
“I have one brother, six sisters.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Wow. The one of each I have are trying enough sometimes.”