“I wanted to bring you all together,” their mother admitted with quiet dignity. “The way I drove you apart.”
“But she couldn’t do it if Rosalind left to go back to the states.” Fran took one of the macarons and popped it into her mouth.
“And I had to do something to get you girls to come together.”
“But you only asked me and Bea to look for the will,” Rosalind pointed out.
“You and Beatrice have the biggest sense of responsibility.”
She glanced at her oldest sister, who shrugged back, unable to deny it.
“But I asked Portia to help you pack away your father’s things.”
“What about me?” Viola said.
Their mum took her second daughter’s hand. “Viola, you’re the most loyal of all the girls. You and Bea were inseparable as children. Your lives may have taken different paths, but when Bea needs you, you’re there for her, and vice versa.”
Bea took Vi’s other hand, but her attention zeroed on their mother. “Do you know what the will says?”
“Yes.”
There was a pregnant pause, and then Bea waved her hand. “And?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “Summer Welles should be here for that.”
Bea sat up, anger flaming her face. “So he did change his will?”
Their mother looked at Fran. “In a manner of speaking.”
“I’m not keen on seeing Summer,” Rosalind admitted, curling into herself.
“She’s your sister,” her mother pointed out.
That still rendered her speechless. “She lied to me,” she finally managed.
Her mother frowned. “I lied to you, too. Does that mean you’re never going to talk to me either?”
“That’s …” She pursed her lips. “Okay, well it’s not different. But I’m upset with her.”
“You’re upset with me, too. I know you all are, for your own reasons. I’m sorry, and I hope you allow me to be part of your lives now.” She looked each of them in the eye. “I also hope you let Summer be part of your lives.”
Portia reached for the whiskey at the same moment Viola raised it to her mouth. “Vi, you need to share.”
“Get your own bottle.”
Rosalind took it from her older sister. “Technically this is mine.”
“You need to bloody learn to share, too, Ros.” Vi laid down, her head in Bea’s lap, and closed her eyes.
Fran reached for the afghan behind her and handed it to Bea, who covered Viola. Then she said, in a lowered voice, “So what are we going to do?”
“Someone I know always says cracked eggs make pudding.” Jacqueline covered the hand Fran laid on her shoulder, a smile on the edge of her lips. “We decide that this will bring us together in harmony, rather than bitterness.”
There were feminine voices in the hallway, and they all frowned. Fran jumped up the moment a glamorous blonde who looked very much like a modern day Veronica Lake swept into the room.
Imogen’s crimson lips curved into a smile that was both innocent and knowing. “Darlings! What have I missed?”
But it was the person behind her that everyone stared at.
Summer hovered hesitantly in the doorway, her black outfit camouflaging her in the shadows.
Rosalind stood up, as did Jacqueline.
Her mother walked forward, taking Imogen into her arms and kissing both her cheeks. “I’m happy you’re home.”
Her younger sister clung to their mum for a second. With her eyes closed, she looked six again. But then she opened her eyes, which glistened, and smiled. “It seems I’m in time for a party. Fran, did you make shortbread?”
“Ach.” The older woman stood up and crushed Imogen to her chest, the way she always had.
Jacqueline faced their father’s illegitimate daughter. “Summer.”
“You know me?” Their father’s other daughter paled.
“Of course, I know you.” Jacqueline held out her hand. “Come in.”
“I’m sorry I’m here. I came to talk to Rosalind again. I did a bad thing, and she’s punishing the wrong person.” Summer entered carefully, her gaze on Rosalind’s. “I would hate myself if I thought that you left Nick because of me. I came to see if I could do anything to change your mind and give him another chance.”
“Come in,” Jacqueline said again, taking Summer’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m happy you’re here.”
“You are?” Summer and Portia both said together.
“Yes. You’re family.”
“Especially since you paid for her tuition,” Bea added dryly.
“What?” Summer gaped at Beatrice before turning to Jacqueline. “I thought my father did.”