A Sinclair Homecoming. Kimberly Van Meter

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      CHAPTER SIX

      MORGAN SIPPED HER WINE, enjoying the warmth from the crackling fire as her younger sister, Mona, returned from the kitchen, carrying a variety of cheeses on a small plate. “I noticed you still keep that nasty Limburger around. I thought you hated that cheese?”

      “I do,” Morgan agreed, reaching for a slice of regular cheddar with a cracker.

      “Then why do you keep buying it? All it does is stink up your fridge.”

      Morgan shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

      “Well, that’s a dumb habit. It stinks and you don’t even eat it.”

      Morgan smiled but remained silent. She couldn’t help herself. She tried not to buy that stupid cheese but David’s voice was in her head and before she knew it, the cheese was in her basket.

      “Only a sophisticated palate can appreciate the robust flavor of a European cheese. If you want to elevate yourself, you have to stop gravitating toward the white-trash fare.” The subtle sneer in David’s voice rang in Morgan’s memory and she forced a smile. Mona didn’t know about David’s peculiar opinions nor did she know about who he really was. What made it worse was that Mona had adored David.

      “So what’s new?”

      “Not much. Just the same old stuff.”

      Mona wrinkled her nose. “Sounds riveting.”

      Morgan laughed. “Not everyone lives the exciting life of an artist, sweet sister. Speaking of art, how did your latest gallery showing go? I’m sorry I missed it. I had a client run overly long and I couldn’t seem to get out of the office on time after that.”

      Another lie. That was the night she’d driven to Anchorage in the hopes of attending a grief support group but she’d chickened out—as she always did—and lost out on supporting her sister for nothing. Morgan busied herself with sipping her wine as she listened to her sister chatter on about this and that, as well as a bit of gossip.

      “I made a few sales, which will keep me in ramen noodles for the next couple of months if I don’t live too extravagantly,” Mona ended with a twist of her mouth. “I definitely have that starving-artist thing down. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be, for sure.”

      “You could supplement your income with a second job,” Morgan suggested cautiously, and hoped her sister didn’t fly off the handle as she sometimes did whenever anyone in the family gave her grief about her career choice. “I mean, just a temporary thing to bolster your budget, of course.”

      “An artist can’t split her creativity between the mundane and the sublime. C’mon, Morgan, you know there’s really nothing out there that I would enjoy. Can you see me working for a fishing outfit or behind a cash register? I would die inside.”

      “Yeah, but paying your rent on time and being able to buy groceries is a nice thing,” she reminded her sister then raised her hand to stop Mona before she got on a roll. “You know I support your artistic endeavors so don’t lose your cool...all I’m saying is, you’re not a kid anymore and I know you’d catch less flack from Dad if you finally picked a career that paid in actual money and not just exposure and goodwill.”

      “What would Dad know about being an artist? He’s a third-generation fisherman like every other guy in this town. I think you managed to snag the one and only man who had any sophistication and class. It’s probably because he wasn’t from here originally.”

      Morgan refrained from comment and chose to sip her wine instead, not that Mona noticed.

      “I mean, David was the kind of guy who knew what wine to pair with food and recognized that there was a difference between red and burgundy on the color wheel. The guys around here have one color palette—and it’s the eight basic colors of a crayon box.” Mona sighed and took a sip of her wine, ending with a grumpy, “I miss David.”

      Morgan nodded and downed her wine, forcing a brief smile, and Mona’s eyes widened with sympathy. “Oh, my God, I’ve been such a selfish jerk going on about David when I know you’re still not over his death. That’s why you keep that stinky cheese, isn’t it? It was David’s favorite. How could I forget that? I’m sorry, sis.”

      “You’re fine. I’m fine. I’m getting over David’s death. I really am.” Something caught in her throat and Mona became alarmed when Morgan choked a little. “I’m okay. It’s been a long day is all. I have a new case that’s a little sad and I’ve been thinking a lot СКАЧАТЬ