Ashley cradled a picture of Aunt Libby.
Their foster mother had lost her fiancé in the Korean War and pledged never to marry another man. Instead, she’d stayed in her childhood house and used all her inheritance to bring in girls who needed a home. Many had come and gone, adopted or returned to their parents. Just Claire, Starr and Ashley had stayed.
God, how she missed Aunt Libby. She could sure use some of her cut-to-the-chase wisdom right about now. Aunt Libby had never cared what other people thought about her, and heaven knew there had been some hateful things said when Libby brought some of her more troubled teens to this high-end neighborhood
The light tread of footsteps on the stairs pulled her from her thoughts. Ashley turned to find her fireball of a sister sprinting toward her.
“Welcome! I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.”
“Not a problem.” Ashley stepped into the familiar hug. This woman was as dear to her as any biological sibling ever could be. “Your housekeeper said you’ve been battling the stomach flu. Are you okay?”
“Nothing to worry about. I’m fine.” Starr stepped back and hooked an arm through Ashley’s. “Let’s go up to my room.
I’ve been sorting through my clothes to find some you can borrow until you get your closet restocked. I’m shorter than you are, but there are a few things that should work.”
Starr pulled her sister up the stairs and into her bedroom…and holy cow, she’d meant it when she said she went through all her clothes. The different piles barely left any room to walk, turning the space into a veritable floordrobe.
“Really, you’re being too generous. I don’t want to put you out.”
Starr smiled and slid her hand over her stomach. “Don’t worry. I won’t be able to fit in my clothes soon anyway. I don’t have the stomach flu.”
The hint flowered in her mind, stirring happiness and, please forgive her, a little jealousy. “You’re pregnant?”
Starr nodded. “Two-and-a-half months. David and I haven’t told anyone yet. I would have said something sooner, but it was totally a shock. We weren’t planning to start a family yet, but I’m so happy.”
“Of course you are. Congratulations.” Ashley folded her in a hug. “I’m thrilled for you.”
And she was. Truly. Both of her sisters were moving on with their lives, building families. She just wanted the same for herself. Someday. With a man who wasn’t proposing a “practical” engagement.
Her sister held tight for a second before pulling back. “Okay, so?”
“So what?”
Starr picked up a newspaper on her bed stand and flopped it open. “Holy crap, kiddo, I can hardly believe my eyes. You slept with Matthew Landis?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She knew she wasn’t Matthew’s type, but it hurt hearing her sister’s incredulity. For that matter, why in the world would Matthew think the press would even believe an engagement announcement?
“I’m simply surprised because it’s so sudden. I didn’t realize you two had known each other that long.” She folded the paper to cover the incriminating pictures. “Although given these, I guess you’ve been keeping a lot from me lately. I can’t believe you didn’t say anything when I brought the clothes to the hospital.” There was no missing the hurt in her tone.
“I’m sorry and you’re right—about the not knowing each other part. You already heard or read most of what there is to tell.
We’ve seen each other during the course of planning functions and smaller gatherings for his campaign. That night, was just…well…”
“Spontaneously human?”
“Neither one of us was doing much thinking.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re all right.”
“But?”
“It’s such a tight race.” Her sister picked at a pile of sparkly painted T-shirts that looked designer made yet had been created by artsy Starr. “I’d hate for his opponent to get any kind of leg up at a time when even a few votes can make a difference.
There are some important issues at stake—like Martin Stewart’s history in the state legislature and how he has hacked away funds that feed into the foster-care system.”
Certainly discussion of the race had been bandied about among Beachcombers clientele with everyone weighing in. Ashley and her sisters had gotten behind Matthew early on given their strong stance on foster care. “That issue hits close to home, no question. But I’m sure the voters will see Martin Stewart for the phony snake he is by the time the campaign runs its course. The guy does the Potomac Two-Step changing his stance on issues so often he’s a prime candidate for Dancing With the Stars.”
Starr’s packing slowed to a near halt. “I wish I could be so certain.”
“I truly believe that. Remember when you worked after school in his office? It only took you a couple of months to quit that job. You said he was hell to work for. If you sensed that at seventeen surely older more mature voters will figure it out, too.”
Starr resumed stacking piles in the box, quietly. Too quietly. Her sister never ran out of things to say.
Ashley tried to catch her sister’s eye. “What’s wrong?”
Starr pivoted on her heel, her eyes awash with pain—and anger. “I didn’t quit that job. I was fired.”
“Oh my God, why?”
“Because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”
Whoa. The impact of Starr’s revelation set Ashley back a step. Then another until she sagged into a chair. “You were only seventeen. He must have been in his thirties then.”
“Yeah, exactly.” Starr stalked around the room, dodging piles of clothes. “He fired me, and to top it off, just before that I had asked him to write a recommendation for me to get into that art school in Atlanta. Well, afterward, he made a call that ruined any chance I had at the scholarship.”
“Starr, that’s horrible.” Ashley tried to hide her hurt that her sister hadn’t shared something so life critical with her before now, but her firebrand of a sister seemed suddenly fragile. Plus she didn’t want to upset a pregnant woman, so Ashley settled for, “I’m surprised Aunt Libby didn’t string him up by his toenails.”
She smoothed her hand along a bright red angora sweater with jet beads along the neckline, wondering how her vibrant sister had put up with that kind of treatment.
“I didn’t tell her. I was embarrassed and—” Starr shrugged a shoulder “—afraid no one would believe me since my parents had been such scam artists. Then as time passed, it seemed best to just put it all behind me. I may seem more outgoing than you, but in those days it was mostly bravado.”
Ashley hugged her again, holding on until her sister stopped shaking. “I’m so, so sorry you had to go through that.”
Starr inched away and swiped her wrist across her eyes, bracelets jangling a discordant tune. “I could go to the press now, but since I’m your sister…”
“They would assume you’re lying to help me out.” Which would only make things worse.
“I’m afraid so. Maybe now you understand better why I’ve been so active in campaigning for Matthew Landis.”
What a mess. If Matthew lost the election because of one night of consensual sex between two adults, that would be horribly unjust, but she knew well enough that life wasn’t always fair. She had to do something to clean up the mess she’d made. She had to do something for Starr.
The obvious answer sat there in front of her in the way her sister had supported her and been the family she never had. She would do anything for the sisters who’d been so self-sufficient they didn’t need much of anything from the youngest of their clan.
“Don’t worry about it. The press will have plenty to talk about before long.”
“What do you mean?”
Ashley sucked in a bracing breath. “You aren’t the only one with big news today. Matthew and I are engaged.”
She would tell Matthew her decision to go forward with the engagement. Soon, since she’d called and asked him to stop by and pick her up for a late supper after she looked through the charred mess.
Her life would be changing at the speed of light once she accepted his proposal. Even though she would be staying at Starr’s during the Beachcomber renovations, Ashley knew the announcement would bring down a hailstorm of media attention. She only needed a few minutes alone inside her old world first—however wrecked it might be.
The air was heavy with humid dew. Ashley climbed the rear entrance steps toward the only real home she’d ever known while crickets chirped. At least the press couldn’t get too close to her in the gated backyard. She panned her flashlight around the lawn and didn’t see anyone lurking in the bushes.
Rubbing a hand over the creamy colored clapboard, she thought of the hours she’d spent developing the business with her sisters. A deep breath later, she pushed on the door. It stuck until an extra jolt of her shoulder nudged it loose.
The acrid pall nearly choked her. Who would have thought the smell could linger so long? Soot mingled in the air, hanging on the humidity like whispery spiderwebs.
No doubt, even walking through her shop would be messy, so Ashley tied her hair through itself into a loose slipknot. A quiver of dread fluttered to life. She squashed it before it could rob her of the drive she needed to face the damage.
A soaked rug squished beneath her shoes as she padded down the hallway. Pausing at her office, she tapped the door open, sighing to find all intact. A film of black residue smudged the surfaces of desks and shelves, but just as Matthew had promised, no fire damage.
She would come back to it later. First, she needed to confront the worst. Each step bubbled gray water from beneath her shoes, the squelching sound weakly echoing memories of Matthew’s leather loafers pounding down the hall as he’d carried her.
Around the corner waited the main showroom. The horrid sense of helplessness returned, crawling between her shoulder blades like a persistent bug she couldn’t swat away. Above all, Ashley hated feeling powerless.
She shook off the wasted emotion. Time to take control and face the nightmare so she could wake up and get her life back.
Ashley plowed around the corner and into a broad male chest. She jumped back with a scream, slipping on the squishy rug.
But it wasn’t the paparazzi.
Matthew filled the doorway. Apparently she would be talking to him sooner than she’d expected.
“Hold on a minute, darlin’.” Matthew gripped her shoulders, his voice rumbling into the silence. “It’s just me.”
“Matthew, of course it’s you.” Shuddering with relief, she instinctively sagged against him—then stiffened defensively.
He pulled her firmly against him anyway until she could only hear the steady thrum of his heart pulsing beneath her ear.
His musky scent encircled her, insulating her from the fiery aftermath.
Her skin burned with a prickly sensation, almost painful. A rush of heat deep in the pit of her stomach made her long to melt against him, press her br**sts to his chest until the ache subsided, or exploded into something magnificent.