A Sinclair Homecoming. Kimberly Meter Van

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СКАЧАТЬ He clicked off without waiting for Miranda’s response. He wasn’t about to trade words about his so-called lack of familial responsibility with either of his siblings. He had better things to do. He returned to the meeting with another brisk smile of apology and discussions continued around him but he had a hard time concentrating. He made appropriate responses but was glad when the meeting was over. After a few handshakes and exchanged pleasantries, Wade made a hasty exit straight to his office to book a flight.

      * * *

      MIRANDA TOSSED HER phone into her purse and tried to rein in her temper. Wade had balls the size of an elephant to be acting pissy with her after they’d tried and tried to get him to come home and help with their parents’ situation. Well, Mr. Big Shot, time to cancel that tee time because you’re needed at home. Tough titty. She didn’t feel bad for him one iota.

      Jeremiah entered the room just as she’d emitted a short growl of frustration and he frowned. “Everything okay?”

      “No, everything is not okay. They are far from okay,” she muttered, then skewed her gaze to her fiancé with apology. “I’m sorry. My brothers tend to bring out the worst in me. That was Wade. He’s booking a flight...finally. It took a major catastrophe for him to board a damn plane, though, and that pisses me off. I’ve been dealing with Mom and Dad mostly on my own until Trace got involved, and now Wade is throwing a hissy fit—in his own controlled way—because we need him here. It drives me nuts that he manages to make me feel like the whiny nag because I need his help.”

      “So your brother hasn’t been home since Simone died?” Jeremiah asked, making sure he had the facts straight about the family history. At Miranda’s nod, he sighed. “Well, I know a thing or two about running away from pain. Chances are if someone had forced my hand into returning to Wyoming before I was ready, I’d be less than social, too.”

      Miranda cast Jeremiah a look of warning. “You’re not allowed to be on his side, just so you know. He’s wrong, and I’m right—drill that into your head and you won’t find yourself sleeping alone.”

      “You’re such a bossy broad,” Jeremiah said, pulling her into his arms with a chuckle. “If I didn’t know how much you enjoy my company at night, I’d take that threat with more seriousness. But before you get your panties twisted in a knot, know that I’m on your side—that goes without saying. However, your family has been through the ringer...and everyone deals with their pain differently. Cut him some slack. He might not be happy about it, but at least he’s boarding that plane. Right?”

      She grudgingly agreed, hearing the wisdom in Jeremiah’s perspective. “Simone’s been gone eight years. It’s time everyone puts her to rest.”

      “Wise words from the woman who up until a few months ago was still drowning her pain in booze and men.”

      “Ouch. If being on my side means you don’t pull your punches, don’t be on my side,” Miranda grumbled against his chest. She took a moment to enjoy the simple pleasure of being snuggled against the man she loved and then said, “Well, I guess you’re right. Maybe we’ll get lucky and whatever Wade needs to heal will come to him. Mamu says that the ancestors bring us what we need, when we need it.”

      “And do you believe that?” Jeremiah asked as Miranda pulled away.

      “Maybe. It seems to have worked out that way for me and Trace. Maybe it’ll be that way with Wade, too. Although, he’s the most rigid out of all of us, so even if what he needed was standing right in front of him with a big neon sign, he’d probably refuse to see it.”

      “He has that Sinclair stubbornness in spades, huh?”

      “Oh, yeah...my older brother could write a book on how to be a stubborn jackass.”

      “That’s saying something because you and Trace... Well, I’d say you’re both pretty stubborn.”

      “Only when people don’t agree that our way is the best way,” she quipped half joking. When Jeremiah’s mouth lifted in a wry grin she conceded, “All right, I see your point but don’t push your luck. No one likes to be reminded of their shortcomings. Shall I list a few of your less than desirable personality traits?”

      “Point taken.” He grinned. “Now, are we going to eat lunch or go straight to afternoon delight? Your tirade against your brother has eaten into our lunch breaks. I’m not sure we have time for both.”

      Miranda grabbed Jeremiah by the tie and began leading him to the bedroom. “I wasn’t that hungry, anyway. C’mon, you big, sexy man o’mine. Let’s see how well you perform under pressure.”

      “Baby, I eat pressure for lunch. I’m an administrator, remember?”

      She laughed and they disappeared behind their bedroom door.

      And for the next thirty minutes, Miranda’s thoughts were blissfully free of any member of her damn family.

      * * *

      MORGAN WAS BUSY studying her case notes for her next client when her secretary, Remy, came into her office with a scandalized expression on his face. With Remy, she never knew if he was simply being theatrical or if there was something truly scandalous to share. At any rate, Remy was entertaining at the very least. And he was family so she’d long since given up trying to change him. Not that she would if she could. Remy kept her sane around a bunch of crazies, as he put it.

      “Girlfriend, you are not going to believe what file just crossed my desk for processing.” Without waiting for Morgan to guess, Remy said, “You remember those poor Sinclairs? You know the family whose girl was killed all those years ago by some psycho? Well, seems the mama has gone and had a heart attack and now Adult Protective Services is involved. They want a full evaluation of her mental status, if you know what I mean.”

      Morgan frowned and accepted the file from Remy. “Why would APS need an eval after a heart attack? What am I missing here?”

      “Check out the pics in the file,” Remy said.

      Morgan opened the file and pulled aside the intake paperwork to see the enclosed pictures. She stared in shock. “Oh, my...word...” Her gaze returned to Remy. “She’s a hoarder?”

      “Either that or she’s auditioning for world’s worst housekeeper,” Remy quipped.

      “Oh, dear...that poor family,” Morgan said under her breath as she went through the pictures. Clutter of all sorts, from brand-new items to trash, littered every available space in the modest home and choked the halls. She returned to the intake paperwork. “It says here the paramedics couldn’t get to her because of the mess. It’s a wonder she was able to call 911. This is just awful. That family has been through so much already.”

      “Oh, and it gets worse,” Remy said, delighted to have some relevant gossip. “On the day that APS booted her from the house and condemned it, police arrested the father for marijuana cultivation. He’s been in jail for weeks. Wouldn’t let anyone post bail. That’s a weird thing. Why would anyone want to sit it out in jail?”

      “Maybe he felt more in control there,” Morgan answered, though her attention was on the Sinclair mom.

      “How does being locked up make you feel more in control?” Remy asked. “I would say that’s the opposite of being in control when someone else is telling you when to eat, when to sleep and when to go outside.”

      Morgan СКАЧАТЬ