The Secret Sister by Brenda Novak Read Free Book Online Page A

job at Merrill Lynch simply by interviewing and had turned out to be quite talented with money.
    Josephine must’ve been aware of that, too. It was something she would’ve questioned Keith about whenever he came back from New York. Where do they live? What kind of rent do they pay? Is their apartment big? Yet those two words— I see —sounded suspiciously like, So I was right. And you dared question me...
    â€œThen your marriage is really over,” Josephine added, driving the knife deeper still.
    â€œYes.” Maisey wanted to point out that Jack had failed in a completely different area than the one Josephine had predicted. But, once again, she bit her tongue. What did it matter? Jack was out of her life.
    Josephine’s cup clinked as she returned it to her saucer. “What’s on the horizon for you now?”
    Maisey didn’t have any official plans. She just wanted to help support Keith’s recovery. Someone had to step in. He couldn’t continue the downward spiral that had led him to attempt suicide. And why not come here? She hadn’t been doing anyone any good in Manhattan—including herself. “Maybe I’ll change things up, get a job.”
    She had to create some income unless she wanted to fall into the same vulnerable position as Keith and be dependent on Josephine for everything. It wasn’t as if she was getting any alimony. She’d been making as much as Jack when they split. Granted, there were still some royalties coming in, but that wouldn’t happen for another few months—and wouldn’t amount to all that much.
    Josephine paused with her cup halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean? What kind of job? There’s nothing on the island that would suit you—nothing but menial labor.”
    â€œMenial labor would keep me busy at least.” Even washing dishes would demand she maintain a schedule. She needed structure, some reason to keep moving so she could escape the inertia that had struck her down in New York.
    â€œWriting and illustrating will do that, won’t they?”
    Following Josephine’s cucumber-sandwich rebuke, Keith had gone back to his place by the mantel. Maisey could feel the weight of his stare. He was probably wondering if she’d tell their mother what she’d told him in the car, but she couldn’t face the backlash the truth would create. “I’ll put in a few hours here and there.” Or make the attempt, if and when she could bear to try.
    â€œThat’s the beauty of what you do.” Josephine brought her cup to her lips. “You can work from almost anywhere.”
    Maisey realized she’d been drinking her tea without any sweetener and added a sugar cube with the silver tongs that had been in the family since before her grandfather had emigrated from France and purchased the island. Selling her children’s books to a traditional, well-known publisher was one of the few things she’d done right, according to Josephine. Josephine liked the respectability that went with being successfully published, and she liked the accolades Maisey’s books had received. That was what Keith had told her, anyway. Her first book was published when she was twenty-seven, married and living in New York.
    â€œThat’s one of the benefits,” she agreed. “But, at the moment, I don’t have any pressing deadlines. So...for the next few weeks, until I can find a job, I’ll concentrate on fixing up my little bungalow.”
    Her mother wrinkled her perfectly formed nose. “As I said, doing anything with the bungalows makes no sense. My contractor can handle it.”
    â€œI know. I met Raphael while we were there—” she certainly wasn’t about to mention that she’d met him before “—inspecting the damage caused by the hurricane. He seems perfectly capable, but he said he wouldn’t mind my help.”
    â€œYou don’t