machine whirred to life. âUh-oh, looks like someone found us. Probably from the main office.â Adjusting her reading glasses, she walked to the fax machine and waited for the paper it spewed forth. âAnother memo about Isaac Wells, wouldnât you know,â she said, clucking her tongue and shaking her short blond curls. âArenât we lucky to have policies out on him? I wonder what happened to that old guy.â
âYou and everyone else in town,â Tiffany said uneasily. Any talk of Isaacâs disappearance reminded her that the police thought Stephen knew more than he was telling. She shivered. Impossible. Not her boy. He was only thirteen.
Doris snapped up the page of information.
âWhen is Bliss moving in?â Tiffany asked in an effort to change the course of the conversation. How would she deal with seeing her half sister every working day? Bliss Cawthorne, âthe princess.â Johnâs indulged and adored daughter. The only one of his three offspring allowed to bear his name. Get over it , she told herself as she settled into her morning routine, opening letters and invoices and scanning each with a practiced eye. It wasnât Blissâs fault that their father was an A number-one jerk, a man whoâd ignored both of his other daughters for years. Until it was convenient for him.
Now, after his brush with death, he wanted to make everything nice-nice. As if the past thirty-odd painful years could be swept away. Just because heâd had himself a heart attack, he wanted to start over. Well, in Tiffanyâs estimation, facing oneâs mortality didnât do a whole lot toward changing the past.
Give it a rest , she told herself and, taking her own advice, buried herself in her work. Several policyholders came into the office to pay their bills or fill out claim reports.
Tiffany worked through lunch, balanced the previous dayâs invoices, made her daily trip to the bank, and had found time to chat with Doris about the kids and Dorisâs planned trip to Mexico while eating a container of strawberry yogurt at her desk.
It was nearly quitting time when the bell over the door tinkled, and Tiffany glanced up. Her insides tightened a bit as she recognized Bliss, her face flushed, striding to the front counter.
Wonderful. Tiffanyâs good mood disappeared.
With cheekbones a model would kill for and eyes as bright as a June morning, Bliss Cawthorne looked like a woman who had everything going for her. Slim and blond, she exuded the confidence of a person who knew her own mind and had never wanted for anything. She wore a white skirt, denim shirt, wide belt and sandals. Upon the ring finger of her left hand she sported a single pear-shaped diamond, compliments of her fiancé, Mason Lafferty, a local boy who, despite his poor roots, had returned to Bittersweet a wealthy, successful man.
Bliss practically glowed, she seemed so happy, and Tiffany had to stanch the ugly stream of resentment that flowed whenever she was face-to-face with her half sister. Fortunately, their meetings had been few and far between. Until now.
âHi,â Bliss said with a smile.
Tiffany forced a grin. âHello.â
âDid you sign the lease?â Doris asked, and Bliss, her steady gaze never leaving Tiffany, nodded.
âLooks like for the next year at least, Iâll be your neighbor.â
âWelcome aboard,â Doris said, walking around her desk to shake Blissâs hand. Her bracelets jangled in the process, and she grinned widely enough to show off the gold caps on her back teeth. âItâll be nice to have another woman around here, wonât it?â she asked, cocking her head in Tiffanyâs direction.
âAbsolutely.â
âItâs just us and Randy around back. He organizes guided tours into the wildernessâcanoeing, backpacking, trail riding, whatever.â She fluttered her fingers by the side of her head, as