Wishbones by Carolyn Haines Page A

had slipped away. The rustle of papers made me sit up in bed. Graf sat in an overstuffed chair, his feet propped on an ottoman, reading
Variety.
Sweetie snored lightly at his feet. The soft late evening light struck Graf full on the face and I couldn't help but see how handsome he was.
    "Would you like some coffee, Sarah Booth?"
    I wasn't certain what I wanted, other than to pat the bed and ask Graf to come and lay beside me. That would open too many doors, though. I sat up and rubbed my face. "I feel like Dorothy, and this isn't Kansas anymore." The room was magnificent, especially with Graf there as if he were part of my family.
    "There's some good noise about this movie," he said, folding the paper and offering it to me.
    I shook my head. "Millie tells me everything I need to know about Hollywood. Part of it's true and part of it isn't."
    He laughed. "You have good friends, Sarah Booth. I was watching you sleep and thinking that I've neglected to make those connections. I wonder if it's a gender thing or if I've failed somehow."
    It was true that a lot of men never built friendships. Many developed "couple" friendships. "You'd probably be surprised at the people who count you as a friend."
    He stood up and came to the bed. "I've been all about work or a romantic relationship. I want to have friends, like you."
    I touched his face lightly, the evening stubble rough under my palm. "I'll be your friend."
    He looked so innocent--before his fingers found the ticklish places along my ribs and hips.
    Screaming and struggling to get away from him, I couldn't help but laugh. This was familiar ground for us. We rough-housedlike kids, a trick way to experience the pleasure of physical intimacy. When at last I was panting for air, Graf pulled me into his arms and held me gently.
    For a long moment we stayed that way before he let me go and stood up from the bed. "You're the hardest test I've ever met."
    I only nodded. "I think coffee sounds good." We had to get out of the bedroom. The attraction between us was impossible to ignore.
    "I'll go start it. Meet you in the kitchen."
    Graf walked out of the room and I realized Sweetie Pie was still snoring. Some watchdog.
    I put on jeans and a T-shirt and started down the hallway. The house was still quiet. In the morning everyone, including the caterers and set builders with their saws and drills, would be back.
    Halfway down the upstairs hall, I had the sense that someone was watching me, but when I looked, the hall was empty, the hardwood floors shining in the peachy light. Maybe I was missing Jitty and hoping for a ghost.
    As I started across the foyer, I heard voices raised in anger.
    "You were responsible for Mother's death. No matter what you say, you were at the bottom of it."
    The voice was young and female and filled with bitter emotion. I hesitated. It was coming from Federico's room. The door was open, and if the people arguing wanted privacy, they should have shut it.
    "You can't begin to know what really happened." Federico's response was calm, sorrowful.
    "Mother was so unhappy. You made her unhappy. That's why she overdosed. This is at your feet, Father."
    Estelle was in the house again, and no happier than she'd been the day before.
    "In one way, you're correct, Estelle. I am partially to blame for this situation right now. When you were younger, I dideverything I could to protect you. I didn't always tell you the truth, because it was so painful."
    "The truth! You wouldn't know the truth if it walked up and spit in your face."
    "I can see you've inherited your mother's temper as well as her theatrics."
    There was the sound of something breaking. "Mother doesn't want you in this house. She'll make sure you don't stay. What happened to that prop man is only the beginning."
    "You should leave, Estelle. Before you say something you'll regret for the rest of your life."
    "Make me! This will be my house. Mother meant for me to have it. She wouldn't want you and that filthy slut in