Ariana curled her legs beneath her. She was happy to end the subject of her love life and welcomed the chance to talk to her mother about something more important. “Sam ran away again tonight.”
“Oh no.”
Ariana nodded. “Apparently her foster parents bought furniture for the baby’s room, which is the room Sam is staying in. It was delivered today.”
“Of all the thoughtless, inconsiderate . . .” A low growl escaped Elena’s throat.
“I agree. But there’s nowhere Family Services can place Sam right now. They’re waiting for a space in a group home to open. As long as she doesn’t cause trouble, her foster family has agreed to let her stay on until then,” Ariana said, explaining to her mother what Quinn had told her earlier.
“How understanding,” Elena said, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.
Ariana ran a hand over her eyes, which burned from lack of sleep and the tears she’d already shed.
Her mother rose from the bed and paced the floor. “Those people don’t deserve to have that child in their home.”
“Again, I agree. But there’s no denying that Sam’s better off there than in a group home.” Ariana shuddered at the mere thought. “But trouble is Sam’s middle name. She’s just not helping her cause.” Ariana wished she could do more for both Sam and Quinn, who felt somehow responsible for the young girl’s predicament.
“If Sam thinks she’s not wanted, she’s only going to act out more. I ought to know how teenage girls think, considering I raised two of them—” Elena snapped her fingers in the air, as if she had just thought of something important. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“Me. Raising teenage girls.”
Ariana raised her eyebrows. “Sam? Are you talking about bringing Sam here to live?” she asked in shock.
Her mother nodded. “I have to go talk to your father. Of course, I need to soften him up first.” She shrugged her silk robe off her shoulders in a provocative gesture. “Now, you keep this between us until I’m ready to broach the subject with him at the right time.”
“But . . .” Before Ariana could discuss the subject further, her mother glided out of the room, a determined woman on a mission.
Her mother wanted to bring Sam here. That idea brought up a load of memories and questions Ariana wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with. She and her sister had been raised in this house with two very different results. But given the alternatives, Sam could certainly do much worse. At least she’d be safe and cared for here.
In the meantime, it hadn’t escaped Ariana’s notice that she and her mother had discussed every touchy and painful subject between them—except Zoe.
The notion that something might really have happened to her sister was a pain too great to contemplate. If Quinn held the secret to Zoe’s disappearance, Ariana just had to trust he’d confide in her soon.
She glanced around her sister’s room, not knowing what she was looking for, just that she desperately needed a connection to the twin she loved but didn’t understand. And then, unexpectedly, she found the link she needed. Reaching across the bed, she pulled a small crocheted pillow into her hand and ran her fingers over the nubby stitching. Sisters and Best Friends 4 Ever. Ariana had made the pillow as a birthday gift for Zoe when they were young. She couldn’t remember exactly how old they’d been, just that she’d given it to her twin.
She had no idea Zoe had kept the gift, but she had. Through the arguments and the rift, Zoe had held on to a link between them. At this moment, their last argument stood out in stark contrast to the past. The night Ariana had left for Vermont , she and Zoe had agreed that they’d never understand one another. Never agree. That distance was best for them both.
Distance, Ariana thought. Not a permanent gap. She wondered now how she’d stayed away for so long. And she hoped it wasn’t too late to make amends.
• • •
The persistent sound of banging woke Ariana from a fitful sleep. She rolled over and realized she’d dozed on top of her sister’s bed. She was still wearing her robe, which had twisted uncomfortably around her waist, and the pillow she’d found was clutched tightly in her arms.
As she made her way downstairs, the noise, which she realized now was hammering, became louder. “What’s going on?” she called to her father, who stood looking out over a window with a backyard view.
“We’re starting construction on the addition for the spa,” he replied, just as loudly, speaking over the noise.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged. “We told you we’d be doing remodeling on the house.”
“You just didn’t say when. I work nights and need to sleep days,” she reminded him.
“You’re young. You need less sleep.”
A loud crash reverberated throughout the house. Ariana jumped at the same time a bizarre shriek sounded in her ear and the monkey dove into Ariana’s arms.
“She hates the noise.” Her father spread his hands wide, indicating he was at a loss as to what to do.
“I take it you’re not any happier than I am?” she asked Spank.
The banging grew louder and the monkey buried her face between Ariana’s neck and shoulders. “How long is this going to go on?” she asked her father.
“As long as it takes,” her father said.
“I was afraid of that. Where’s Mom?”
Nicholas glanced over his shoulder. “She went to the library. She said she had research to do. I think she needs to figure out how to thicken the facial cream she’s been working on. But she was in an exceptionally good mood,” he said and winked at Ariana.
She rolled her eyes. When her mother played her father, she was so obvious, Ariana didn’t know how her father didn’t see it. Everyone else certainly did. Then again maybe he just accepted her the same way Elena accepted his snoring, because he loved her. Ariana wondered how he’d feel once her “research” led to another child in this house. Because the one thing Ariana had learned was that whatever Elena wanted, Elena made certain she got.
With a shake of her head, Ariana left the kitchen, the monkey wrapped tightly around her. In the meantime, Ariana needed to find a place to stay where she could actually get some sleep while the construction continued.
• • •
Quinn was pouring himself a cup of strong, black coffee when the phone in his hotel room rang. “Donovan.”