Nobody's Fool

by Sarah Hegger

When pressed, Josh had been cagey about how matters stood between them. According to her son, it was Holly who wasn’t keen on taking things any further.

  And mama bear had come clawing out of the cage again. My boy not good enough for you? she’d wanted to yell. They never got much older than three in your mother’s heart. The instinct to protect and swaddle was hardwired all the way to the bone.

  Lucy had been easy. Donna adored Lucy, and she’d assumed she would love whoever her other sons brought home. Holly, a small woman with a huge attitude who took crap from nobody, reminded Donna of someone.

  Donna, baby, they don’t come much tougher than you; you’re my warrior. Des’s voice resonated in her head.

  Donna almost spat the Sancerre across the room. Holly reminded her of herself before life had softened the edges.

  The doorbell peeled loudly in the silent condo, a welcome relief from the direction her thoughts were taking. She got to her feet and stretched.

  The doorbell pealed again.

  Whoever waited on the other side sounded like they were in a hurry.

  Donna yanked the door open. “Yes?”

  A young woman stared back at her uncertainly.

  Of course there would be a woman at the door. This was her son’s condo after all.

  “Er … Hello?” The woman studied the address plate on the wall beside the door. She looked back at Donna. “Um, I thought—”

  “Who were you looking for?” Donna placed the woman’s age at late twenties. She scrolled through the women in Josh’s life she’d met. It didn’t take long. Despite his reputation and his past behavior, Josh played his private life close to his chest.

  “I have the number right.” The woman consulted an iPhone. “I’m terribly sorry, I think I might have the wrong address. I drove in from the airport, and the streets in this part of the city are confusing.”

  “It’s the one ways,” Donna said.

  Her visitor was attractive without being pretty, the sort of face that would come to life in front of a camera. Flawless peach skin sculpted around high cheekbones and a pair of large hazel eyes. Her lustrous tortoiseshell hair moved from honey to brown and remained neatly confined to her nape.

  “Who are you looking for?” A suspicion popped its head up in Donna’s mind. The woman’s exquisitely tailored suit draped her body perfectly, despite her claim to have been traveling, and Donna smelled a designer label worthy of Joshua.

  “I was looking for Joshua Hunter.” The woman confirmed Donna’s growing certainty. “I have the right building, I checked with the doorman.” The young woman frowned.

  Donna had a feeling it was a habitual expression, like the weight on the girl’s shoulders never let up. She had a sudden, completely inexplicable rush of maternal protectiveness. “Were you looking for Josh or Holly?”

  The woman’s face cleared and she smiled. It changed her from attractive to lovely in an instant. “I am at the right place, then?”

  “You are.” Donna nodded. “And you aren’t. This is Joshua’s condo, but they aren’t here.”

  The visitor’s face dropped.

  “But you are lucky.” Donna stepped back and opened the door. She motioned the woman to enter. “I am Joshua’s mother, Donna, and they are at my house in Willow Park.”

  “They are?”

  “They are.” There had been four girls in the Partridge family. “Now I am guessing you are the other sister, right?”

  “I’m Grace.” She stepped through the doorway, wheeling a small, compact suitcase behind her.

  “You had better get settled.” Donna motioned toward the sofa. “Because we have a lot to talk about.” She made for the kitchen. “I’ll get you a glass of wine. You’re going to need it.”

  His mother sitting on the front porch wasn’t the last thing Josh would have expected this evening; however, it was unusual enough for him to get that prickling sensation at the back of his neck. He raised a hand in greeting as he approached.

  She got to her feet and waited for him.

  “Hey, Ma. How did you get here?”

  “I got a lift. You look good.” She gave him the maternal hawkeye.

  “It’s this insane training I’m doing.” Holly would probably scoff at him, but he wasn’t doing this to look good. Actually, he wasn’t really sure why he was doing this anymore. Fuck. Richard was right. The only reason he’d signed up was to kick his brother’s ass.

  “You are still going through with this race?” Donna put her hands on her hips.

  “I’m committed now.” His mother had raised boys, but she still didn’t get the male need to climb a mountain just because it was there. To be honest, it sounded dumb to him right now, too. “It’s happening in a couple of days.”

  Donna made a rude noise. “You are entered and you paid your admission. That is not committed.”

  “I undertook this and now I have to finish it.” Or Richard would never let him hear the end of it.

  Donna gave him a hard stare. “I am your mother, Joshua, and you should never try to lie to me. You are doing this because Richard did it before you.”

  Busted! She was brutally accurate, and he should know better than to try to dance around the truth with her.

  “And you are probably going to do it faster than he did and never let him forget it.”

  He grinned back and drank his water. “So, what brings you here? Here to fight with my girl again?”

  “I did not fight with her.” Donna blushed under his steady regard. She gave a Gallic shrug, as if her statement explained everything. “You are my son.”

  “I’m going to see her through this, Ma.”

  Donna kept her eyes locked on his. “I know that, Joshua. I would expect no less from you. But this is not the sort of thing you can fix with some charm and a big smile.”

  He dropped his head. “I know that.”

  “And I am not sure there is any space in her life right now for romantic complications,” Donna said.

  “You came to warn me I might get my heart broken?” Josh raised his eyebrows at his mother. Once a mother, always a mother. “There are some who might argue I’m due my fair share of heartbreak.”

  “They would be wrong,” Donna said. “Laura was different.”

  Josh finished off the water. The guilt made it difficult to swallow. “Dad—”

  “Your father spoke in anger. His words were harsh and I know he regretted them.” Donna touched his arm.

  Her touch seared like a brand. “He was ashamed of me.”

  “He was angry.” She gave him a pat. “And you did not always treat girls as I would like when you were younger, but you are not that way anymore.”

  “No, I’m not that way now.” He tapped the toe of his running shoe against the bottom step of the three stairs leading onto the front porch. He didn’t want to hurt his mother, but they had to air this. “And what if Holly is my choice?”

  Donna smacked his arm. “Do you think I am blind and stupid?”

  Relief washed over him in a wave. He didn’t need her permission, but it would be nice to have it anyway. “Anyway, like you say, she has enough to worry about with her sisters.”

  “Will you accept that?” She cocked her head like a bird.

  Josh’s gut tightened. Holly walking away from this thing between them was looking more and more possible. “I might not have a choice.”

  A worried frown puckered her brow.

  “But I’m going to try to change her mind,” he said with a forced bit of confidence that convinced neither of them.

  “We will see.” She gave him a small smile. “I am not here this evening to talk to you. I brought you a surprise.”

  “What is it?”

  “Not a what.” Donna drew the moment out with relish. “A who.”

  “Who?”

  “Exactly.”

  He glared at her repressively. He wasn’t in the mood to play Abbott and Costello. “Who is it?”

  “I hope you are sure about thi
s Holly because there just got to be more of her to love.” She raised her eyebrow.

  He shook his head at her.

  She grinned back unrepentantly. “Your surprise is in the kitchen.”

  Josh took the stairs slowly. Any more surprises like Portia and he might toss in the towel. Oh, who was he kidding?

  “Josh?”

  The seriousness of her tone stopped him. “Oui?”

  “Tu es sûr?”

  “I am.”

  “Grace?” Holly couldn’t believe she was here. Bloody hell, it was good to see Grace.

  She looked phenomenal, but then Grace always did. She wore one of her power suits in a crisp mint with a pair of shoes even Holly coveted. It was like looking at a grown-up version of herself. “What are you doing here?”

  “I took a plane and then I drove.” A tentative smile played around the corners of Grace’s mouth.

  “You look great.” God, she’d missed Grace. They used to be as close as two sisters could get. It was over two years since they’d been in the same room together. Grace and her husband liked to do Christmas somewhere warm. Holly was glad for any excuse not to have to make nice with Greg.

  Holly wanted to reach out to Grace She hesitated, not sure the gesture would be welcome.

  “So do you.” Grace’s tentative smile blossomed into a grin.

  To hell with it. Holly closed the gap between them and pulled her sister into a hug.

  Grace froze for a second before her arms came up.

  Holly tightened her hold. The familiar feel and scent of Grace surrounded her, and some of the bleakness receded. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Her throat constricted on the words.

  Grace nodded and tightened her arms briefly, then she stepped back. “This feels weird.”

  “I know.” It was weird, but good weird. “Where’s Greg?”

  “Not here.” Grace moved to stand over at the window. “I never thought I would come back here. Ever.” She kept her gaze on something outside the window. “Have you been to the house?”

  “Yes.” Holly joined her at the window. Outside, an elderly man tried to dissuade his dog’s interest in an azalea bush. “You wouldn’t recognize it, though. It’s been completely renovated.”

  “Speaking of overhauls. You look great.” Grace turned and studied her from head to toe. “No, I mean it. You look great.”

  “Yeah?” The compliment warmed her from the inside out. More often than not, Grace was outspokenly vocal on Holly’s complete disregard for fashion. “I can’t take the credit.” Holly waved her hand breezily through the air. “I have a new consultant.”

  Grace snorted.

  “I strongly suspect I am being managed,” Holly said.

  “You? Managed?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “With your full knowledge?” Grace’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Holly?”

  Holly laughed. “Don’t get excited; it’s only a temporary thing.” She took a moment to study her sister’s face. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Me neither.” Grace pulled out a kitchen chair and folded herself elegantly into it.

  “Grace?” Emma stood poised in the kitchen doorway. “Is that you?”

  “Hey, Em.” Grace greeted her from the kitchen table.

  Emma stayed in the doorway.

  They weren’t a tactile family. It had never occurred to Holly how little affection they displayed among one another. Josh was a corrupting influence, with his constant casual touches throughout the course of a day.

  Emma floated over to where Grace sat.

  They couldn’t have been more different—Grace with her perfectly tailored suit and blouse, her killer heels tapping the floor, versus Emma in her tie-dyed cotton dress sweeping the ground over her bare feet. Their dissimilarity went all the way to the core.

  “I knew you would come.” Emma gave Grace a smug smile.

  Grace narrowed her eyes. “Wow. That’s incredible, considering I didn’t have any idea I was actually coming here until I got in the car.”

  And Grace and Emma fit straight into their assigned roles. Tension oozed into the room.

  “I wish you’d told me.” Holly tried to lighten the atmosphere. That was her role in this. Emma and Grace went head to head and Holly soothed the waters. “I was blown away.”

  “I drew some cards for you.” Emma patted Grace’s hand. Her bracelets clattered against the wooden table. “I thought they were for me, but they didn’t make any sense, so they must have been for you.”

  “Thanks, Em.” Grace shifted uncomfortably.

  “Don’t you want to know what they said?” Emma never knew when to let something go.

  “Maybe later.” Grace gave her a weak smile. “So, tell me about Portia.”

  “Portia is fighting a war within herself.” Emma blinked mistily. “The cards are cautioning her to take it easy and to be herself.”

  “She’s bipolar,” Grace said. “I don’t think the cards cover that.”

  Emma stiffened.

  “It’s okay, Gracie.” Holly stepped in quickly. “That’s what Emma means.”

  “Then she should say so.” Grace rose to her feet and stalked back to the window. “So, give me the facts.”

  “Portia is on a quest.” Emma’s eyes grew unfocused.

  Grace made a growling noise.

  “No, she’s right. Sort of.” Holly held up a hand to forestall Grace. “Like I said, I think this has something to do with Melissa.”

  Grace paled and leaned against the counter for support. “Melissa?”

  “Why do you always call Mummy Melissa?” Emma looked from Holly to Grace.

  “Habit.” Grace motioned for Holly to continue.

  “I think Portia’s pregnancy is the reason for this sudden interest in Melissa.” The old bickering made her tired. Holly took the seat opposite Emma. In as few words as possible, she told Grace more about the pregnancy and Portia’s fixation on Josh.

  “He’s being rather understanding,” she said. “But for everyone’s sake, we need to get this sorted out.”

  Emma clasped her hands together on the table in front of her carefully, like a nun preparing herself for prayer. Her rings and bracelets rattled loudly against the wood as Emma lowered them to the table. “You mean for your sake.”

  “What am I missing?” Grace looked from one to the other.

  Emma shook her head and continued to study her jewelry with a pious air of martyrdom.

  “Emma doesn’t approve of my—me and Josh Hunter.” To put it mildly. Holly folded her arms over her chest.

  Grace’s eyes gleamed with lively curiosity. “Is there a you and Josh?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Brilliant answer, Holly. “It’s complicated.”

  “Tell me about it.” Grace snorted.

  Holly got the feeling she was talking about something entirely different.

  “Have you been doing the wild thing with him?” Grace cut straight to the chase.

  “Uh-huh.” Holly’s cheeks heated.

  Grace threw up her hands triumphantly. “I knew it.”

  “I knew it.” Emma’s head shot up and her eyes narrowed on Holly. “I knew you were doing that with him instead of—”

  “You go, girl,” Grace said. “If he’s as hot as he was in high school, you are my new hero.”

  Emma curled her lip. “It’s disgusting.”

  “No, it’s not.” Grace glared at Emma. “It’s high time Holly got some action.”

  “She has Steven.” Emma’s eyes widened.

  “Steven.” Grace managed to load the name with a huge dollop of contempt. “No woman in her right mind would choose Steven over Josh.”

  “Not the point, Grace.” Emma smacked her palms on the table. Jewelry clanked and scraped. “What about Portia? I cannot believe both of you can be this selfish. This will drive her over the edge.”

  “She’s already over the edge.” Grace turned
on Emma suddenly.

  Emma gasped. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

  “Why? It’s the truth.” Grace stuck her chin out.

  “I think what Grace is saying—”

  “You’re being awful and unkind.” Emma shot to her feet, the bench screeching against the floor.

  “Bullshit, Emma. She’s ill, sick.” Grace tapped her temple with her forefinger. “In here, Emma, something doesn’t work properly.”

  Emma gasped, her eyes going even wider.

  Grace rolled right over her. “It doesn’t make any difference what any one of us does or doesn’t do. Because Portia is not going to get better. She’s not ever going to be right again. Do. You. Get. That?” Grace’s cheeks flushed and her eyes glittered.

  Emma imploded on a sob and crumpled back onto the bench.

  Grace dropped into her seat. “Shit.”

  “Gracie?” Holly approached her sister slowly. There was so much going on beneath the surface. Grace’s reaction had shocked her as well. Her sister had a hair-trigger temper, but this was something else.

  “Where did that come from?” Grace raked her shaking fingers over her cheeks and down, as if she could pull her skin off her bones. “Where the hell did that come from, Holly?”

  “It’s being here,” Holly said into the silence. “It’s being in this place and with Portia cycling. It brings it back.”

  Grace’s eye entreated Holly to toss her this bone. “For you, too?”

  “For me, too.”

  “Man.” Grace exhaled loudly. “It’s like Melissa all over again. Are we screwed up or what?”

  Beside Holly, Emma stopped crying and looked from one to the other of them. “You never talk about her,” she said suddenly. “About Mummy; you never talk about her.”

  Grace flinched at Emma’s choice of words.

  The word mummy jangled inside Holly, tightening her stomach and making her chest ache. “We can’t.”

  Grace shook her head and shrugged.

  “But—?”

  “Leave it, Em.” Emma had no sense of self-preservation. “Not now.”

  “Then when?” Tears spilled down Emma’s cheeks. “Portia and I have the right to know.”

  Holly’s heart sank as Emma lit the fuse that was Grace.

  The menace resonated off Grace as she turned to Emma. “What did you say?”