“On the contrary, Mom.” Laura smiled wide. “I’d love to pitch in.”
Sorrow stood abruptly to clear the dishes. “I made a pie.”
Now Billy had to stare flat out. Laura had offered help, and wasn’t that what Sorrow needed? And yet she seemed upset. He stood to help, too curious to do otherwise.
Damien made a move to get up, but Billy stopped him. “I got this one.”
The other man raised his beer in a toast to thank him. “Works for me. I hate the kitchen.”
Billy was right behind Sorrow with his hands full of dishes. “What was that about?” he asked the moment they reached the kitchen.
“Nothing.” Her voice was tight. She turned her back to him, stacking dishes in the sink.
“It didn’t seem like nothing in there.”
She stiffened. Paused. “Every once in a while, my sister breezes in.”
He wondered what she wasn’t saying. He wasn’t one for female drama, but something about this situation piqued his interest. “Seems like you could use the help,” he ventured.
She dropped the dish she’d been washing and turned to face him. “Trust me, the next time there’s a problem around here, Laura will claim some personal drama and make a break for it, heading back to San Francisco faster than you can say Miss Fancy-pants Vice President.”
Billy chuckled. “That so? Well, maybe that’s a good thing.”
Bear’s belly laugh reached them from the other room, and Sorrow looked stricken by the sound of it. “Stick around long enough, Sheriff, and you’ll see. There’s a favorite daughter, and it ain’t me.” She’d tossed the comment off, but he heard the pain beneath her breezy delivery.
This Laura might sail in all charm and sass, but it was Sorrow who struck him as the backbone of the family. He met her eyes. “I don’t have siblings, but I’ve done enough living to know that favorite and most valued are often two very different things.
“And besides,” he added, “maybe she’ll distract Bear long enough for you to start serving that frittata of yours in the tavern.”
“Yeah, maybe so.” She softened her features, giving him a grateful smile. Up close like this, the girl was so pretty she seemed to glow from within.
Such an errant thought, it struck him dumb for a moment. He wasn’t looking for a woman. He had one, and he’d buried her. This one already had a man anyhow. He told himself it was purely neutral observation that had him thinking how much prettier Sorrow was than her sister, even though it was Laura who probably caught more men’s eyes.
“C’mon,” she said as she pulled a pie from the fridge. “You ever have Butter Pie?”
His eyes grew wide as a kid’s. “You’re kidding. There’s such a thing as Butter Pie?”
“My specialty. Made just this morning.”
“Is it really what it sounds like it is?” He stepped closer to take an appreciative sniff. “My life has been incomplete.”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. Butter, sugar, vanilla, eggs. Some whipped cream on top. Some people add cranberries but—”
“Cranberries?” he interrupted. “Why mess with beige perfection?”
She giggled, and it was a good sound. “Should we go for broke?”
He gave her a hearty nod. “Hell, yeah.”
“Grab some ice cream. A little more beige never hurt anyone.” She pointed to one of the drawers. “Scooper’s in there.”
He snagged the ice cream, scoop, and a stack of plates, and followed her back into the dining room, practically salivating from the wonderful smell.
Laura peered at the pie dish, frowning. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yup,” Sorrow said, and the change in her attitude was visible.
Laura folded her napkin and put it onto her plate. “You know I can’t eat that.”
Sorrow’s arms and shoulders were stiff as she put the dish onto a trivet. “If you’d told me you were coming, I’d have baked my famous Splenda and Air Pie instead.”
Billy choked back a laugh, cheering inside. If the other woman was going to be so uptight, he was glad they’d added a big tub of ice cream to the spread. All the better to torture her with. As he sat back down, he told her, “I say you’re crazy.”
“Crazy, huh?” Laura got a glint in her eye that made him wish he’d kept his mouth shut. “Why am I crazy?”
“To pass up this food. Your sister’s cooking is some of the best I’ve ever had.”
Laura gave him a coy smile. “So you’re saying, I don’t need to watch my figure?”
What the hell was he saying? This woman was a wily one—was she baiting him? Flirting with him? All he knew was, he’d better watch out for these land mines. “I’m saying…I’m gonna shut up and eat some Butter Pie.” And he took a giant bite to prove his point.
They all laughed. Except for Sorrow.
He looked over at her. If anyone was becoming a friend in this town, it was her, and he automatically sought her gaze to share the moment. But her eyes were flat, pinned on her sister.
He knew women. He’d been married. He’d had many women friends through the years, a number of female coworkers. He appreciated the fairer sex, listened to them, enjoyed their perspective, their company. And so he recognized her expression.
It was jealousy.
Fifteen
Laura pointed angrily at the TV. “What the hell is she making?” She was sprawled in one corner of their giant sectional couch and turned to glare at Sorrow seated stiffly in the other.
Sorrow grabbed the remote and made a show of upping the volume. “I don’t know, Laura. I can’t hear over your talking.”
Laura leaned over and snatched it from her. “It’s 4:00, there must be a talk show on. She’s just cooking—how is that interesting?”
“Please. I just want one little break.” Sorrow snatched back the remote. “I was working all morning. I’ll be working in the tavern all night. What have you been doing all day? I have this one tiny window when I can relax, and this is what I want to watch. If you’re so bored, why don’t you go do something?”
“I don’t know what to do,” Laura moaned.
“You sound like you’re twelve. You should finish unpacking. You brought enough stuff to clothe an army.”
Laura slumped into the couch, ignoring the suggestion. “Do we have to watch the Food Network?”
“The host is discussing techniques for velveting tofu.”
“Exciting,” her sister said sarcastically. Then she made a grumpy hmph sound. “Do you really need to know this? You should just be a chef.”
It was an offhand comment, but it made Sorrow feel like her head might explode. Old resentments burbled to the surface. “Gee, Laura, I’d love to be a chef. But I’m stuck here.”
“It was just a suggestion. No need to bite my head off.” Laura shrugged. “Maybe if you spruced this place up a little, it’d be more interesting for you.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t fled Sierra Falls, this place wouldn’t need sprucing.” Sorrow angrily upped the volume. “Sprucing. Of course the place needs sprucing. Duh.”
“Easy, cowgirl. I’m just saying, if you livened it up around here, maybe you’d get more visitors. Keep you busy. I don’t know how you survive out here in the woods.”
Sorrow muted the TV to glare at her sister. “Busy. You don’t know the meaning of busy. You cut and ran after graduation, leaving me holding the bag.”
When Laura left, their brother BJ was already off at college on a ROTC scholarship, committed to serve upon finishing. By the time it was Sorrow’s turn to make her life choices, her father had had his stroke, and somebody needed to stay behind and help run the place. Their mother definitely couldn’t handle it; too many of their simple day-to-day chores—shoveling snow, unloading groceries, hauling guests’ suitcases up and down stairs—were just too physical for her. And so Sorrow had given up on her dreams to stay behind.
“I’m not having this conversation again,” Laura said.
“So now you can tell me what I can and can’t talk about?” Sorrow had been holding her feelings in for some time. All she’d wanted to do was sit and watch her stupid program in peace. Her feet were killing her, and something about Laura’s pouting pushed her to the breaking point. “You can tell your fancy coworkers what to do, but you’re not vice president of me, so don’t come here and think you can boss me around. You have so not earned the right to breeze in and tell me how I should be doing things.”
“Jeez,” Laura said under her breath. She looked away, back at the screen. “Relax. I’m not bossing. I was just making some friendly suggestions.”
Sorrow ignored her and barreled on. “You left for bigger horizons, leaving me here, doing work I don’t really want to do.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Look, don’t do me any favors. Nobody said you had to stay home and live with Mom and Dad. If you don’t like it, make a change.”
“Seriously?” Sorrow turned off the TV—she was unable to follow it anyway—and scooted sideways to face her sister. “So, what, I was supposed to leave after Dad’s stroke?” It’d happened when she was a junior in high school. He’d been laid-up for months. Gradually, she’d taken on responsibilities, until one day she was the one who was basically running the place.
“I don’t know,” Laura said. “You seem pretty happy to me. You’re like queen of the castle here.”
“Hardly,” Sorrow snapped. “It’s hardly unicorns and rainbows around here. But I do the best I can with what I’ve got. Unlike some people who visit their family so they have a whole new audience to complain to.”
“Well you should feel free to complain to me, any old time,” Laura said blandly. “You hold things in forever, and then explode when it’s too late to do anything about it. How are people supposed to know how you feel if you don’t let anybody in? Even Damien—it seems like you’re keeping him at arm’s length. And I don’t know what’s up with that sheriff. I saw you giving him googly eyes. The man’s too old for you. You should just stick with Damien. You want help around the lodge, you need to go for the hot, rich one.”