Bethany Campbell - P.s. Love You Madly

Darcy was appalled. “But I live here,” she said.

“No, you don’t,” Olivia corrected. “You live in the guest house. Nobody’s in the big house. It’s just sitting there, going to waste. He’d be so much more comfortable there—he could spread out, read, listen to music, use the hot tub, the pool.”

Darcy pictured Sloan English’s nearly bare body sweating in the hot tub, glistening in the pool. Her nerves skittered to a higher level of anxiety.

“He’ll have a nice view,” Olivia went on. “He can take the boat on the lake if he wants, walk in the garden, get some nice, fresh, healthy air…”

Emerald came into the room from the kitchen. She had taken off her chain mail and sword and boots. She had a peanut butter sandwich in her hand and a curious look on her face. “Who’s on the phone?”

Darcy didn’t answer her. “You can’t just give a stranger the run of your house,” she told Olivia.

“He might not be a stranger long,” Olivia said. “He might be your stepbrother.”

“Stepbrother?” Darcy asked, stunned. “Mother, surely you’re not thinking of getting married—you hardly know this man.”

Emerald’s face went white and her mouth dropped open, forming an O. The peanut butter sandwich fell to the floor. She clutched the edge of Darcy’s worktable as if she needed support.

“I know John intimately,” Olivia said. “I know him better than I’ve ever known any other human being. And yes, we’ve talked about getting married. It’s like that ‘September Song.’ Our days are dwindling down to a precious few, and we want to spend them together.”

“Mother,” Darcy said desperately, “don’t do anything rash—please. If you’re going to get engaged, at least make it a long engagement. Be sure that he’s right for you—”

“He’s perfect for me,” said Olivia. “And I want his son to stay at the lake. It’s a sort of peace offering from our family to his.”

“The lake house,” Darcy said tonelessly. “Our future stepbrother in the lake house.”

Emerald looked even more stunned. She reeled away from the table and flung herself into the easy chair. She bent her head and covered her face with her hands to hide the tears glinting in her eyes.

“Why should our family make a peace offering?” Darcy demanded. “He owes us an apology, not the other way around.”

“Darcy, he’s deeply sorry. I’m going to tell him I insist. I won’t have it any other way. If he really wants my forgiveness, then he can prove it by accepting my offer.”

Oh, Lord, Darcy thought, her stomach twisting sickly. She knew that tone in Olivia’s voice. Her mother had made up her mind, and nothing, nothing, nothing on earth could change it.

Darcy felt overwhelmed. Olivia was about to rush into a foolish marriage, Emerald was distraught and Sloan English was moving in practically on top of her. The thought of having him so near was unsettling, even somehow menacing.

“I’m e-mailing you a list,” Olivia said with her same blithe air of certainty. “I want you to stock the refrigerator for him. He needs nice, healthy foods to build his strength back.”

Emerald hunched in the chair, eyes still covered, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

Darcy shook her head in frustration. “Mother, I’m not going to play nursemaid to this man. I’m not going to get all chummy with him just because you’re—you’re under the delusion that you’re in love—”

“Darcy, it’s my house, and he’s my guest. As are you, I might point out. When you lost the lease on your studio, I was glad to let you use the guest house.”

Darcy ground her teeth. It was true. Olivia was generous to a fault. She would accept no rent from Darcy, not a cent.

“Now,” Olivia said, “I’m asking you a simple favor, that’s all. He’s a sick young man in a strange town. How can it be wrong to offer him food and shelter?”

Damn! Now Olivia was making her feel guilty. Darcy raked her hand through her hair in exasperation.

“I’m asking you,” Olivia said, “for very little. Create a hospitable setting for him. Be polite. Get to know him as well or as little as you like. But remember, he’s going to be my stepson. In all probability, that is.”

Darcy winced. She had a horrid premonition that there was no “probability” involved. That Olivia would become Sloan English’s stepmother.

“Can I count on you?” Olivia asked.

Darcy pressed her hand against her midsection, which was suddenly queasy. She looked at her weeping sister. “Yes,” she said unhappily. “You can count on me.”

“Give him a chance, darling,” Olivia said. “You might actually like him.”

Right, Darcy thought bleakly. I’ll love him like a brother.

She hung up and turned to her sister. “Emerald,” she said as kindly as she could, “don’t cry—please.”

Emerald, who hated to be seen crying, stared at Darcy with swollen, brimming eyes. “She’s going to do it, isn’t she?” she said bitterly. “She’s going to marry that man—isn’t she?”

Darcy tried to keep her expression composed. She nodded. “It sounds like it.”

“It’ll be terrible,” Emerald said, and burst into a new freshet of tears. “It’ll be a disaster. He’s probably just after her money, and he’ll spend it all and make a fool of her—” Emerald gave a strangled little wail and hid her face in her hands again.

Stay calm, Darcy cautioned herself. Somebody around here has to. She went to Emerald and knelt beside her. She put her hand on her sister’s slender arm. “It may not happen. This thing may end as quickly as it started. These intense romances are like that. I’ve seen it happen before.”

Emerald straightened, dug a tissue from her waistband and wiped it across her nose with an angry gesture. “And that man—that churl who passed out on the floor—Mama wants him to come live in the lake house?”

Darcy shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “For just a few days. You don’t even have to see him. It’s all right.”

Emerald rolled her teary eyes heavenward. “I can’t believe it. His family’s already moving in and mooching off her. He’ll probably go through all her closets and drawers and steal the silverware—”

Darcy took Emerald’s chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Em, look at me. Calm down.”

“I don’t want to calm down,” Emerald shot back. “I don’t want a stepbrother. I don’t want a stepfather. I don’t want a step anything. Why can’t we just have Mama to ourselves? Why does she have to get mixed up with him? She can’t really know him. He could be a gigolo. Or a bigamist. Or one of those lonely hearts killers. Or—”

“Shh,” Darcy said, and laid her finger across her sister’s lips. “Listen. We don’t know anything about him—good or bad. But if the son comes here, we can find out. This is an opportunity.”

“Some opportunity,” Emerald said disdainfully.

“No. I mean it. I can find out things, feel him out.”

“He’ll probably feel you up,” Emerald retorted. “He’s probably a wolf like his father.”

“Whatever he is, I can handle him.”

“Ha! You don’t know that,” Emerald scoffed. “You don’t know a thing about him.”

“He may be just as suspicious of us as we are of him,” Darcy reasoned. “But I’ll gain his trust, win his confidence. Bit by bit, I’ll draw him out, and then we’ll know—”

“We won’t know anything,” Emerald argued. “He could lie his head off. I’ve got a better idea. Let’s not be nice to him. Let’s make him hate us. That’ll stop them.”

Darcy squeezed her sister’s arm. “No. Mama’d be appalled. We can’t—”

“We can’t let her go through with it, that’s what we can’t do,” Emerald said passionately. “I say that we break it up. Whatever it takes, we do.”