wide—“Ryan Adams.”
Allie snapped her fingers. “Now there’s an idea. He’s obviously into you.”
Ryan’s ruggedly handsome face swam into focus in her mind’s eye. He and Mitch Jackson were as opposite as two good-looking guys could get. Where Mitch was suave and professional and more than a little sarcastic, Ryan was down-to-earth and, well, real . But at least Mitch spoke her language. Ryan wouldn’t know a DMA if it slapped him in the face. “I don’t know. He’s cute and all, but . . .” She lifted a shoulder.
“You don’t like him?” Joan and Allie asked at the same time.
Too quickly. Suspicion stirred as she examined first Joan’s suddenly blank expression, then Allie’s. What were those two up to? “Why do you want to know?”
“No reason, really.” Joan’s smile was guileless. “Just that he was so disappointed this morning when you didn’t come to church.”
“Hmmm. Well, like I said, he’s cute and all.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t think we have anything in common.”
“Don’t assume that without getting to know him,” Allie said.
Tori didn’t filter the skepticism out of the look she turned on her oldest sister.
Allie spread her hands. “I’m just saying.”
Those two didn’t fool her for one minute. They wanted to push her toward Ryan because he went to church regularly. They probably figured if she started going out with one of their church buddies, she’d be one step closer to their particular brand of fanaticism. Which wasn’t anywhere on her To Do list. She didn’t have time to deal with church, or guys, or anything except the Maguire campaign and this wedding she couldn’t generate any enthusiasm for.
She brushed her hands together as though wiping off the effects of this conversation, which was going nowhere fast. “So, are we going through boxes today or what? Because if not, I’ve got plenty to do back in Lexington.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Allie looped an arm through hers and dragged her toward the hallway and the pull-down stairs that led up into the attic. “Mom, would you keep an eye on my baby, while I put your baby to work?”
Mom grinned at Joanie. “I’ll be happy to.”
Tori let out an audible groan as she was pulled from the room, but she flashed a quick grin in Mom’s direction. Weird, but she was looking forward to digging in all those boxes with her sisters. That attic was dark and dusty, but at least the three of them would be working together. And this way she knew they weren’t making any important family decisions without her.
“Ohmygosh, would you look at this.” Tori reached into the box and pulled out a small cocoa brown jumper. “It’s Allie’s old Brownie uniform. And here’s the tie.”
“Let me see that.” Allie crawled on her knees across the dusty wood floor, hand outstretched. “Gosh, can you believe they dressed us in orange ties? Isn’t that considered child abuse or something?”
Tori giggled. “If it isn’t, it should be. So, do you want to keep it?”
“What on earth for?” Allie tossed it into the box labeled Donations. “Maybe they can sell it as a costume or something. Anything else in that one?”
Tori pulled out the last few garments from the box in front of her. “Just some more of our old clothes.”
Joan scooted further beneath the rafters. “Allie, are you sure you don’t want to keep some of them for when Joanie gets older?”
Tori had a box of the clothing she’d worn in high school pushed off to one side, ready to be loaded in her car and taken back to her apartment. It wasn’t likely that she’d wear many of them again, but she couldn’t bear to give them away.
Allie obviously didn’t feel the same. “Definitely not. My child is not wearing hand-me-downs from her mother.” She blew her bangs off her forehead. “Besides, she won’t be able to wear those for years, but there are orphans all over the world who need them now.”
Tori compressed the
Allie snapped her fingers. “Now there’s an idea. He’s obviously into you.”
Ryan’s ruggedly handsome face swam into focus in her mind’s eye. He and Mitch Jackson were as opposite as two good-looking guys could get. Where Mitch was suave and professional and more than a little sarcastic, Ryan was down-to-earth and, well, real . But at least Mitch spoke her language. Ryan wouldn’t know a DMA if it slapped him in the face. “I don’t know. He’s cute and all, but . . .” She lifted a shoulder.
“You don’t like him?” Joan and Allie asked at the same time.
Too quickly. Suspicion stirred as she examined first Joan’s suddenly blank expression, then Allie’s. What were those two up to? “Why do you want to know?”
“No reason, really.” Joan’s smile was guileless. “Just that he was so disappointed this morning when you didn’t come to church.”
“Hmmm. Well, like I said, he’s cute and all.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t think we have anything in common.”
“Don’t assume that without getting to know him,” Allie said.
Tori didn’t filter the skepticism out of the look she turned on her oldest sister.
Allie spread her hands. “I’m just saying.”
Those two didn’t fool her for one minute. They wanted to push her toward Ryan because he went to church regularly. They probably figured if she started going out with one of their church buddies, she’d be one step closer to their particular brand of fanaticism. Which wasn’t anywhere on her To Do list. She didn’t have time to deal with church, or guys, or anything except the Maguire campaign and this wedding she couldn’t generate any enthusiasm for.
She brushed her hands together as though wiping off the effects of this conversation, which was going nowhere fast. “So, are we going through boxes today or what? Because if not, I’ve got plenty to do back in Lexington.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Allie looped an arm through hers and dragged her toward the hallway and the pull-down stairs that led up into the attic. “Mom, would you keep an eye on my baby, while I put your baby to work?”
Mom grinned at Joanie. “I’ll be happy to.”
Tori let out an audible groan as she was pulled from the room, but she flashed a quick grin in Mom’s direction. Weird, but she was looking forward to digging in all those boxes with her sisters. That attic was dark and dusty, but at least the three of them would be working together. And this way she knew they weren’t making any important family decisions without her.
“Ohmygosh, would you look at this.” Tori reached into the box and pulled out a small cocoa brown jumper. “It’s Allie’s old Brownie uniform. And here’s the tie.”
“Let me see that.” Allie crawled on her knees across the dusty wood floor, hand outstretched. “Gosh, can you believe they dressed us in orange ties? Isn’t that considered child abuse or something?”
Tori giggled. “If it isn’t, it should be. So, do you want to keep it?”
“What on earth for?” Allie tossed it into the box labeled Donations. “Maybe they can sell it as a costume or something. Anything else in that one?”
Tori pulled out the last few garments from the box in front of her. “Just some more of our old clothes.”
Joan scooted further beneath the rafters. “Allie, are you sure you don’t want to keep some of them for when Joanie gets older?”
Tori had a box of the clothing she’d worn in high school pushed off to one side, ready to be loaded in her car and taken back to her apartment. It wasn’t likely that she’d wear many of them again, but she couldn’t bear to give them away.
Allie obviously didn’t feel the same. “Definitely not. My child is not wearing hand-me-downs from her mother.” She blew her bangs off her forehead. “Besides, she won’t be able to wear those for years, but there are orphans all over the world who need them now.”
Tori compressed the
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