She thought of Nick and shook her head. “You know that’s not true. Your world view is just colored by where you’re sitting now.”
“I want better seats. I thought I got orchestra, but I really got standing room only.”
Bea took her hand. “We’ll sort it out.”
Portia took her other hand. “And if we can’t sort it out, we’ll break Charles’s knees for you.”
Viola smiled.
Rosalind looked at Portia, imagining her trying to hurt anyone without breaking her nail, and she burst out laughing.
Her sisters joined in. They were still laughing when Bea’s driver pulled over and through the intercom said, “We’ve arrived.”
Bea nodded and opened the door. “Ready, ladies?”
They all climbed out. Rosalind looked around at the uniform row of houses, pressed side by side. “It’s further down, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Bea motioned to Nigel to stay and then began walking down the street like she owned it and the neighborhood, her purse in the crook of her arm. “I didn’t want the neighbors to see a black car pulling up in front of it, just in case.”
They arrived at the house and walked up to the door, where they stood and stared awkwardly.
“Maybe we should have brainstormed how to get in,” Rosalind said mildly.
“That’s easy.” Portia picked up a rock from the bushes next to the walkway and shattered a windowpane in the door. They all stared in shock as Portia used her scarf to carefully pick away the glass and reach in to twist open the door. She swept in before the rest of them.
Finally Viola asked, “What happened to our very proper sister?”
Betrayal happened, but given Viola’s apparent situation at home, Rosalind wasn’t going to voice that. “We should probably go in and do this.”
“Right.” Viola marched in.
Bea shrugged and followed. “I suppose now isn’t the time to mention that Wellington managed to have a key made for us.”
“Probably not,” Rosalind agreed.
“Don’t touch the doorknob with your hands when you close it,” her oldest sister reminded them all when they gathered in the foyer. “No fingerprints.”
Bea pulled her phone out. Rosalind was about to say it was hardly the time to make a call when the phone beamed a bright stream of light. “Flashlight app,” Bea explained.
Viola got out her phone. “I have that, too.”
Rosalind shook her head. “Who are you people?”
“Your sisters.” Bea gave her a feral grin. “We know where we’re all looking?”
“Let’s get this done and get out of here before someone calls the police,” Viola agreed. “The last thing I need is for my daughter to know I was arrested.”
They split up and went to their designated areas. Rosalind went into the living room, giving the space a cursory once over. It looked like a typical home, cozy and lived in, nice but not luxurious. There was a framed painting of two children over the mantle. Bijou would have called it cheesy, but Rosalind thought it was kind of sweet, the way the older boy had a protective arm around the sunny little girl.
As she searched the room, she couldn’t help wondering about the woman who’d lived there. How had she attracted her father’s attention? Her father had never seemed to be interested in a homey type woman.
Fifteen minutes later, Bea walked into the room, a metal box in one hand, holding a framed picture with the other. She set the box down on the table. “It’s locked. I found it hidden under the bed. I found this picture on the bedside table.”
She glanced at it, not expecting to recognize anyone, but then her breath caught in her throat. Sara and Nick, with their arms around each other. She gaped at the photo. “Why is their picture here?”
“Their pictures are all over the bedroom.” Bea motioned her to follow. “Come see.”
Walking woodenly, she followed her sister down the hallway. Just like Bea said, in the bedroom there were pictures of Nick and Sara. She recognized the painting in the living room now as them at a younger age.
“She had a son and daughter,” Bea said just as Rosalind remembered it too. “These must be her children.”
Rosalind sat abruptly on the bed.
“I’m guessing he didn’t mention that?” Bea kneeled in front of her, concern lining her face. “The bastard. I’ll gut him.”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“We should go.” Bea took her hand and helped her rise.
“We have to find the will,” she managed to say through the shock.
“If it’s anywhere, it’s in that locked box,” Bea assured her.