Evan had always been temperamental, she thought. It was hard for him not to win, not to get his way. It always had been. As a child his retribution had come in one of two forms. Icy silence that could bore holes in steel. Or quick, hot violence.
You're older, her mother had said, always. Be a good girl, be a good sister. Let the baby win.
It was such an old and ingrained habit, she barely registered her decision to blow the next return as well. And after all, the afternoon would be so much more pleasant if he won the match. Why cause contention over a tennis game?
So, burying her own competitive spirit, she took a dive, surrendering the game.
His expression changed almost instantly.
"Good game, Evan. I never could keep up with you. "
She sent him an indulgent smile as they positioned themselves for the next. Boys hate to lose to girls, she thought. It was another of her mother's homilies.
And what were men but big boys?
By the time it was over and he'd won the match, he was in a fine mood. He felt loose and limber and affectionate. He swung an arm over Barbara's shoulders, bussed her cheek. "Your backhand still needs some work. "
There was a little bubble of annoyance in her throat, automatically swallowed. "Yours is lethal. " She picked up her bag. "And since you humiliated me, you get to buy lunch. I'll meet you on the lounge terrace. Thirty minutes. "
She kept him waiting, always a minor irritation. But it pleased him to see how attractive she was, how well presented. He detested sloppy attire or unkempt hair on a woman, and Barbara never disappointed him.
She was four years his senior, but could have passed for thirty-five. Her skin was pampered and taut, her hair sleek and glossy, and her figure trim.
She joined him under the shade of the umbrella, smelling subtly of her favored White Diamonds.
"I'm going to console myself with a champagne cocktail. " She crossed legs garbed in thin raw silk. "Between that and sitting with the most handsome man in the club, my mood should immediately improve. "
"And I was just thinking what a beautiful woman I have for a sister. "
Her face lit up. "You always say the sweetest things. "
It was true, she thought. He did. When he won. It made her all the more pleased that she'd tanked the match.
"Let's not wait for Deke," she said, still beaming at him. "Lord knows when he'll finish his game. "
She ordered her cocktail and a Cobb salad, moaning dramatically when Evan selected shrimp scampi. "Oh, I hate you for your metabolism. You never gain an ounce. I'm going to have a bite of yours, then curse you when I'm tortured tomorrow by my personal trainer. "
"A little more discipline, Barbara, and you'd keep your figure without paying someone to make you sweat. "
"Believe me, she's worth every penny. The sadist. " With a contented sigh, she sat back, careful to keep her face out of the sun. "Tell me, darling, what did you want to talk to me about?"
"I'm going to give a party, at the Monterey house. It's time to. . . "
"Yes. " She leaned forward again to cover his hand with hers, squeezed. "Yes, it is time. I'm so glad to see you looking well again, Evan, to hear you making plans. You went through such a horrible time. "
Tears welled, and her affection for him was such that she blinked them back thinking not of her mascara but of his sensibilities.
He detested public scenes.
"You've begun to move on in the past few months. That's healthy. Helen would have wanted that. "
"You're right, of course. " He eased his hand away as their drinks were served.
He didn't like being touched. Casually, of course, was one thing. In the business world, hugs and kisses were just another tool. But he detested being touched with intensity.
"I haven't entertained, not really, since it happened. Business affairs, of course, but. . . Helen and I planned every detail of our parties together. She handled so much of it-the invitations, the menu-all subject to my approval, of course. I was hoping I could impose on you to help me. "
"Of course I will. You just tell me what you have in mind, and when. I went to a party just last week, very lavish and fun. I'll steal some ideas. It was Pamela and Donald. Pamela's often a pain in the neck, but she does know how to throw a party. Speaking of her, I feel I should tell you-and I hope it doesn't upset you. I'm afraid you'll hear it from someone else. "
"What is it?"
"Pamela's been nattering, you know how she is. "
Evan could barely picture the woman. "About what?"
"She and Donald took a holiday out east a couple of weeks ago. Cape Cod, primarily, though she talked him into driving about and staying at a few bed-and-breakfasts like nomads. She claims while they were out there, sightseeing in some little village or other, she saw a woman who looked just like Helen. "
Evan's hand vised on his glass. "What do you mean?"
"She cornered me at her party, went on and on about it. Claimed that at first glance she thought she'd seen a ghost. In fact, she was so insistent about how this. . . apparition might have been poor Helen's double, she asked me if Helen had a sister. I told her no, of course. I imagine she caught a glimpse of some fine-boned blonde about Helen's age and enhanced the whole thing in her mind. The way she's going on about it, I didn't want you to hear some rumor that would cause you any pain. "
"The woman's an idiot. "
"Well, she's certainly imaginative," Barbara said. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, tell me how many people you're planning to invite. "
"Two hundred, two-fifty," he said absently. "Just where did Pamela claim to see this ghost of hers?"
"Oh, some island off the East Coast. I'm not even sure of the name, as I was busy trying to change the subject. Something about sisters. Formal or casual?"
"What?"
"The party, honey. Formal or casual?"
"Formal," he murmured, and let his sister's voice buzz in his head like bees.
***
Lulu lived in a saltbox two blocks back from High Street. It stood out from its more conservative neighbors with its lipstick-red shutters and porch. On that red porch was a glider splattered and streaked with a rainbow of paint in a mad pattern that rivaled a Jackson Pollock canvas.
A purple gazing ball stood on the thin swath of lawn and shaded a gargoyle who squatted, permanently sticking out his tongue at passersby.
A winged dragon of iridescent green flew on the roof as a weather vane, along with a wildly striped wind sock. In the short driveway sat a dignified late-model sedan in practical black, and Lulu's Day-Glo orange VW, circa 1971.
Love beads, from the same era, dangled from the rearview mirror.
Following instructions, Nell parked on the street one house down, then hauled her delivery to the back door. Lulu swung it open before Nell could knock.
"I'll give you prompt. " And with this, Lulu grabbed Nell's arm just above the elbow and yanked her inside. "I sent the lot of them out for a walk and don't figure they'll be back for twenty minutes. More, if I'm lucky. Syl's been a pain in my butt since she was born. "
"Your sister. "