“What?”

“Chocolate brownies.”

“Oh my word,” said Brooke. Now she was using one of their mother’s favorite phrases.

“It’s not funny,” said Logan. “Mum just hissed at me, ‘Logan, this is not funny.’” He looked over her shoulder. “Here’s Troy. Watch him park me in.”

As predicted, Troy parked his gorgeous, shiny McLaren with a slick one-handed spin of the wheel directly behind Logan’s car. He saw his siblings and smiled that radiant smile that could buy him anything: women, refunds, forgiveness.

Brooke smiled back helplessly as Troy leaped from the car with the glittery confidence of a movie star arriving at the premiere of his own movie. He carried a bottle of wine and a small beautifully store-wrapped gift.

“Love the new car,” she said. She didn’t envy much about Troy’s life except for the luxury cars, which were replaced with the same regularity as the luxury girlfriends. She shot her dowdy old Ford Focus a resentful glance. It had a persistent problem with the air-conditioning and had recently begun to emanate a deep, pained groan each time she turned the steering wheel, but there was no way in the world she could justify a new car right now.

Troy jerked his chin at Logan and gently cuffed Brooke on the back of her head. “How are you, baby Brooke? You look great. Are you wearing lipstick? Mum will be thrilled. It’s maybe just a little smudged there.” He pointed at her lip.

She swore, licked her thumb, and wiped it away.

“How’s the physiotherapy business?” asked Troy.

She rocked her palm in a so-so motion. “Why do you look so good?” she asked. “You’re glowing. It’s annoying.”

“Just healthy living, Brooke,” said Troy. “Spot of microdermabrasion. Bit of tennis to keep me active. You should try it. Great sport.” He looked at Logan’s keys. “You going somewhere?”

“Mum says I need to get mineral water,” said Logan. “Probably for you, now I think about it.”

“Great. Could you make it Voss?” said Troy. “That’s my preferred sparkling.”

Logan didn’t even bother to fully roll his eyes. “I can’t get out now anyway. You’ve blocked me in. You go get your preferred sparkling yourself.”

“How’s the newest member of the family doing?” Troy looked toward the house. “Have you met her yet, Brooke? Savannah.” He said it as if it were an exotic foreign word.

“Guess what she baked today.” Brooke stole the moment from Logan. She so rarely had the chance to be wicked with her brothers. It was normally Amy and Troy sitting in a corner, making snarky comments and obscure pop-culture references.

Troy considered the question. His face changed. “Not brownies.”

“Speaking of which,” said Logan. They all watched as an unfamiliar car slowly circled the cul-de-sac with Amy in the front seat talking anima

tedly to the car’s driver, a young man who was laughing uproariously and not really keeping his eye on the road.

“Has she got another new boyfriend?” asked Brooke.

“It’s an Uber.” Logan pointed at the sign on the back window.

“He might be a new boyfriend by now. Didn’t she meet the last one when he served her at JB Hi-Fi?” said Troy. “The one who fixed Mum’s computer? I liked him. He added value.”

The car stopped, the driver hopped out and rushed around to open Amy’s door like he was a chauffeur, and Amy emerged, tangle-haired and bright-eyed, dressed like she’d just got back from a grotty but glorious music festival. She was laden with objects: an oddly shaped, badly wrapped present, a bunch of sunflowers, a baking tray with a flapping sheet of aluminum foil, and a Happy Father’s Day helium balloon that fluttered above her head.

“Hello!” she called out to her siblings as she hugged the Uber driver goodbye. She didn’t hug her siblings, just her Uber drivers. The guy had probably shared something deeply personal with her that he’d never told anyone before. People sensed that Amy offered the possibility of redemption.

“Does she look hungover?” muttered Logan. “It will be worse if she’s hungover.”

“Go help her carry the brownies.” Troy nudged Brooke.

“I’m leaving,” said Logan. “I don’t want to be here when she finds out.” He held out his hand to Troy. “Give me your keys.”

“I’ll drive you,” said Troy. “I’m scared. She has that fragile look about her.”

“Don’t you dare ask if she’s off her meds,” said Logan to Troy.

Tags: Liane Moriarty Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net