traveling phone to her ear again. She flicked off the bathroom light, then the hall light, still talking to her sister as she walked barefoot in the dark toward her bedroom.
“Well listen, Gwen, how about if I just send a plane ticket for you and my favorite monsters? You could just stay here for a couple of weeks, a month, rest up, give me a chance to spoil my nephews to death and get your mind off that son of a mangy cow…all right, all right, I won’t call him a bastard or a sad excuse for a dust bag. You want to still think your ex as a nice guy, I’ll pretend along with you. Hey, I’m on your team. But just so you know, if I meet up with him in person again, I’m gonna stomp his handsome face from here to Poughkeepsie—”
Her hand groped blind for the light switch in her bedroom. The overlight suddenly glared, illuminating the cherry four poster bed with the patchwork quilt, the Federal rocker, the marble-topped dresser with messily, gaping open drawers—which, she noted, no housekeeping fairy had come up and closed since morning. Her eyes honed faster than lightning, though, on the jade cameo on the dresser top, and suddenly her heart was skating faster than a toboggan down a steep hill.
She’d brought the cameo up here after lunch with Stefan. She didn’t know why, didn’t care why. It was her work, her art, and if she wanted to keep something private and out of sight, it was certainly her business.
Just for an instant, her gaze glued on the sensual profile of the woman in jade—and then faster than a slammed door, she flicked off the overhead light. It didn’t matter if the room was pitch-black. All she was going to do was unbraid her hair and get ready for bed while she talked to her sister, chores she could do in a cave.
“…so tell me how the boys are doing. Raising hell, I hope…hmm…listen, kiddo, you know that if anything were wrong, all you’d have to do is tell either Abby and me, and we’d be there in thirty seconds flat? I know, you keep telling me you’re doing fine, but I can’t remember ever hearing this much stress in your voice…”
Paige tripped on something on the floor—probably a shoe—fumbled on the nightside table for her brush, and negotiated the perilous condition of her room in the dark. Curling up in the window seat, she loosened the rubber band—which pinged somewhere in space—then used her fingers to unplait the long braid.
“I do not work too hard. Geesh, how did this conversation get turned on me? Of course, I’m remembering to eat. And of course, I opened the bills and remembered to pay every single one of them this month.” She had to quit unplaiting long enough to cross her fingers. “Sex? What’s that? Oh. Yeah. Nope, haven’t done anything like that…although, hoboy, you remember when we were kids, the three of us poring over that book by flashlight, terrified Dad was gonna catch us? Remember our deciding we all must be adopted? Because we knew for sure Mom and Dad would never do anything that disgusting…”
There. She’d made her sister laugh, and before they severed the phone connection, Paige felt relieved that she’d left Gwen in an upbeat frame of mind. They’d talk again in a couple of days—a week never passed before she talked with both her sisters. Gwen refused to admit that anything serious was bothering her, a frustration to Paige—she knew damn well somethingwas. Eventually she’d worm the problem out of her sister, and in the meantime, Ma Bell kept them close.
Swiftly she finished unplaiting her hair, then shook it loose and free as she gazed out the window. It was magical outside, serene and still, the snow like a blanket of diamonds by starlight. It was a night for girlish dreams of princes and white knights…if Paige had been one to believe in fairy tales.
As she rhythmically brushed through the tangled strands, her hair shimmered and fell, tickling her nape, drifting down her shoulders and back. Somehow the texture
“Well listen, Gwen, how about if I just send a plane ticket for you and my favorite monsters? You could just stay here for a couple of weeks, a month, rest up, give me a chance to spoil my nephews to death and get your mind off that son of a mangy cow…all right, all right, I won’t call him a bastard or a sad excuse for a dust bag. You want to still think your ex as a nice guy, I’ll pretend along with you. Hey, I’m on your team. But just so you know, if I meet up with him in person again, I’m gonna stomp his handsome face from here to Poughkeepsie—”
Her hand groped blind for the light switch in her bedroom. The overlight suddenly glared, illuminating the cherry four poster bed with the patchwork quilt, the Federal rocker, the marble-topped dresser with messily, gaping open drawers—which, she noted, no housekeeping fairy had come up and closed since morning. Her eyes honed faster than lightning, though, on the jade cameo on the dresser top, and suddenly her heart was skating faster than a toboggan down a steep hill.
She’d brought the cameo up here after lunch with Stefan. She didn’t know why, didn’t care why. It was her work, her art, and if she wanted to keep something private and out of sight, it was certainly her business.
Just for an instant, her gaze glued on the sensual profile of the woman in jade—and then faster than a slammed door, she flicked off the overhead light. It didn’t matter if the room was pitch-black. All she was going to do was unbraid her hair and get ready for bed while she talked to her sister, chores she could do in a cave.
“…so tell me how the boys are doing. Raising hell, I hope…hmm…listen, kiddo, you know that if anything were wrong, all you’d have to do is tell either Abby and me, and we’d be there in thirty seconds flat? I know, you keep telling me you’re doing fine, but I can’t remember ever hearing this much stress in your voice…”
Paige tripped on something on the floor—probably a shoe—fumbled on the nightside table for her brush, and negotiated the perilous condition of her room in the dark. Curling up in the window seat, she loosened the rubber band—which pinged somewhere in space—then used her fingers to unplait the long braid.
“I do not work too hard. Geesh, how did this conversation get turned on me? Of course, I’m remembering to eat. And of course, I opened the bills and remembered to pay every single one of them this month.” She had to quit unplaiting long enough to cross her fingers. “Sex? What’s that? Oh. Yeah. Nope, haven’t done anything like that…although, hoboy, you remember when we were kids, the three of us poring over that book by flashlight, terrified Dad was gonna catch us? Remember our deciding we all must be adopted? Because we knew for sure Mom and Dad would never do anything that disgusting…”
There. She’d made her sister laugh, and before they severed the phone connection, Paige felt relieved that she’d left Gwen in an upbeat frame of mind. They’d talk again in a couple of days—a week never passed before she talked with both her sisters. Gwen refused to admit that anything serious was bothering her, a frustration to Paige—she knew damn well somethingwas. Eventually she’d worm the problem out of her sister, and in the meantime, Ma Bell kept them close.
Swiftly she finished unplaiting her hair, then shook it loose and free as she gazed out the window. It was magical outside, serene and still, the snow like a blanket of diamonds by starlight. It was a night for girlish dreams of princes and white knights…if Paige had been one to believe in fairy tales.
As she rhythmically brushed through the tangled strands, her hair shimmered and fell, tickling her nape, drifting down her shoulders and back. Somehow the texture
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