Tell No Lies by Tanya Anne Crosby Page A

her.
    “What the hell was that about?”
    Savannah gave Augusta a disgruntled look and turned to open the door, stepping aside so Augusta could precede her into the house. “Obviously, I pissed her off.”
    “You?”
    “Don’t sound so damned smug!” Savannah chafed.
    Her youngest sister was probably the least likely of them to piss anyone off, and Sadie was not the easiest woman to rile. “How the hell did you manage that?”
    As the door slammed behind them, Savannah marched by Augusta, straight toward the kitchen. The scent of food made Augusta’s belly grumble. It was only then she realized she hadn’t eaten all day because she had been so stressed out about Ian.
    “Hungry?” Savannah asked, ignoring Augusta’s question.
    “A little.”
    “Sadie was in the middle of cooking. I guess we can finish what she started. Do you feel like opening a bottle of Mom’s good wine?”
    Augusta laughed. “Hell, yes!” she declared. “It must have been a doozy of an argument for you to dive into Mom’s stash.”
    Savannah peered back at her. “I like wine. I just don’t like drinking,” she said, and gave her a little smile.
    In principle, Augusta shared that opinion. She was a long way from being the lush her mother was, but wine did relax her and she wasn’t quite principled enough to say no to a great bottle of vino. In that way, she was a lot like her mother, and if it weren’t for Augusta’s intense dedication to being nothing like Flo, she might have ended up a pill-popping alky like their mother. But it would be a cold day in hell before she took on any of her mother’s traits. Plus, her taste in wine was far too expensive to really indulge it often. Her practical nature wouldn’t allow it.
    “I’ll get the wine,” she offered, and set her purse and keys down on the counter, then made her way to the wine fridge her mother had had installed sometime before she died. Although it was new, Augusta knew exactly what was in it and didn’t waste much time making her choice. She grabbed a 2007 Gaja Barbaresco, an Italian red that probably cost her mother about two hundred and some change, but Augusta wasn’t paying for it, so what the hell. This one would be perfect for commiserating. She brought the bottle to the counter and then ferreted out two wineglasses. “Is Caroline home yet?”
    Savannah stood at the stove, assessing their abandoned, half-cooked dinner. “Not yet. Do you know anything about making a roux?”
    Augusta took out a third wine goblet, but set it on the counter out of the way, eyeing Savannah. “Nope. Caroline does.”
    “Well, we can’t wait for her. I’ll have to give it a try.”
    Augusta poured wine into one glass and then lifted it, tasting. “It’s just fat and flour, right? Fry the flour in the butter until it looks brown and goopy. We’ll live if it’s not exactly right. We’ve got worse shit to worry about.”
    Savannah sighed. “Yeah.” She turned to watch Augusta top off her glass, then pour a second. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sadie that angry,” she worried.
    Augusta lifted up Savannah’s glass from the counter and brought it to her. “I have,” she confessed with a slight turn of her lips. In fact, there weren’t many people Augusta hadn’t pissed off at one point or another, including Sadie.
    Savannah laughed, and then sighed as she took a small sip of her wine. “Here’s to pissing people off,” she said, and raised her glass high.
    Augusta choked on her laughter. “Now you’re talking,” she said. “So tell me, what did you do to earn Sadie’s wrath?”
     
    The pain in Cody’s ankle helped to keep him awake.
    His head hurt and he felt a little like he had the time he’d snuck into his pop’s liquor cabinet, woozy and sick to his belly. Trying to focus, he fixed his gaze on the railroad trestle outside the window. He could see part of it from where he lay, handcuffed to a bunch of old pipes, enough to recognize that it was an old