Susan Wiggs - The Winter Lodge

“You should’ve called me right away,” Olivia said. She sent Rourke a swift glance. “Hi, Rourke.” Then she turned back to Jenny. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I, uh, I was at the bakery when it started and then …” Jenny didn’t know why she felt apologetic. She just wasn’t sure how to act around her newfound sister. “Things went crazy, as you can imagine.”

“Excuse me,” Rourke said as the fire captain motioned him over.

“I can’t imagine.” Olivia touched her arm. “Oh, Jenny. I want to help. What can I do?” Olivia seemed almost desperate and utterly sincere. “I want to help, in any way I can.”

Jenny summoned a smile, grateful beyond words that even after losing Gram, she still had her sister. If not for Olivia, Jenny would be alone right now, the last of her family gone. Yet at the same time, she felt a pinch of melancholy, regretting the years they’d lost. She had grown up with Bellamys all around her, never knowing of the connection they shared. She and Olivia were so different. Olivia had spent her life surrounded by the wealth and privilege of the Bellamy family. The adored—and, according to Olivia, overindulged—only daughter, she had attended the best schools, graduated with honors from Columbia, and by the age of twenty-four had launched her own business. She was gorgeous, successful … and she was in love with the perfect guy—a local contractor named Connor Davis. It would be easy to envy her to the point of dislike.

Except Jenny truly liked Olivia. She honestly did. Her half sister was kind and funny, and she genuinely wanted to have a relationship. Jenny had read somewhere that the true test of the strength of a relationship is whether or not it held up in a crisis.

I guess I’m about to find out, she thought.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “At the moment, I’m kind of disoriented. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Forgive? My lord, Jenny, you must be devastated.”

“Well, when you put it that way …”

“God, listen to me. I’m awful.”

“It’s all right. There’s really no etiquette in this situation.” An awkward silence stretched between them. Jenny studied her sister’s face, as she sometimes did, seeking something—anything—they shared in common. A certain tilt of the eyes? The shape of jaw, chin, cheekbone? Their father swore they looked like sisters, but Jenny believed it was wishful thinking. “Listen, there is something you can help with. I’m going to need some clothes.”

“You’re going to need everything,” Olivia added. “I’ll drive.”

Finally, Jenny felt it—the relief and gratitude of knowing someone wanted to look after her. She went over to Rourke. “Are we done here?”

“For now. The fire investigator is going to be working most of the day.”

“All right. I’m going with Oliv—my sister—to pick up a few things.” She felt a curious satisfaction at saying it aloud. My sister.

“Call me,” he said.

There was no excuse not to. Her cell phone had been in her purse, safe from the fire, and Rourke had already replaced the charger. She got in the car with Olivia, the heated leather seat sighing luxuriously beneath her. Further proof that the rich were different. Even their cars felt special.

“Where are you staying?” Olivia asked.

Jenny didn’t say anything, but her glance in Rourke’s direction gave her away.

“You’re staying at his place?”

“It’s just temporary.”

“I’m not saying anything is wrong with it,” Olivia clarified. “But … Rourke McKnight? I mean, if you put that together with the picture of the two of you on the front page of the paper, then, I don’t know—it starts to look …”

“Like what?”

“Like something. Like you two are—”

“Me and Rourke?” Jenny shook her head, wondering how much Olivia knew about their history. “Not in this life.”

“Never say never. That’s what I said about Connor, and look at us now. Next summer, I’ll be married.”

“I think you’re the only one who’s surprised by that.”

“How do you mean?”

“You and Connor are made for each other. Anyone can see that.”

Olivia beamed at her. “You know, you’re welcome to stay with us.”

No offense, thought Jenny, but I’d rather have a root canal. Olivia and Connor lived on the most gorgeous parcel of riverfront land in the area. They were building a house of stone and timber and romantic dreams, and Jenny had no doubt that a blissful future awaited them. However, the house was only half finished, so Olivia and Connor were living on the property in a vintage Airstream trailer. Not exactly made for overnight guests. “That’s really nice of you. But I’ll pass, thanks.”

“I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t stay there, either, if I didn’t know it was only temporary. Connor promises to be done by April,” Olivia said. “I keep reminding myself that he’s a contractor. Isn’t it true that they always underestimate?”

“Not to their fiancées, I hope.”

Before Olivia pulled away from the curb, Nina Romano arrived in a battered pickup and motioned for them to lower the window. Jenny’s best friend was as unpretentious as she was loyal. She often dressed in clothes that might have come from a rummage sale in Woodstock, causing her opponents to label her the “happy hippie.” Yet her earnest dedication to the community, coupled with a no-nonsense way of getting things done, made her popular enough to be elected mayor.

“I heard you’ve moved in with Rourke,” she said without preamble. She peered into the SUV. “Hi, Olivia.”

Olivia smiled in greeting. “I just love small-town life. You never run out of things to talk about.”

“I haven’t ‘moved in’ with Rourke,” Jenny said. A blush crept up her face.

“That’s not what I heard,” Nina said.

“Listen, he found me at the bakery in the middle of the night and told me my house was toast. I went back to his place because I was dog tired and it was too early to bother anyone else. I’m still there because …” She stopped short of telling them about his coffee-making skills, the thread count of his sheets and the undeniable feeling of security she got from being with him.

Nina sniffled and blew her nose. “Sorry. I caught a bug at the hotel in Albany. You could have gone to my place,” she said. “I was out of town, but Sonnet wouldn’t have minded.”

Jenny knew that Nina didn’t have room for company any more than Olivia did. Nina and her teenage daughter lived in a tiny bungalow. The office of mayor was practically a volunteer position, the salary was so low. “Thanks,” Jenny said, “but like I said, it’s only until I figure out what to do next.”

Nina, as usual, was a whirlwind of business. Her cell phone went off and she had to race for an appointment. “Call me,” she mouthed, and then put her truck in gear.

Jenny and Olivia drove to the town’s main square, where the bakery stood shoulder to shoulder with a jewelry store, a bookstore and various other boutiques and tourist shops. They headed for a boutique called Zuzu’s Petals, a favorite for women’s clothing.

It was unexpectedly pleasant, shopping with her sister. And undeniably liberating to start from scratch with a whole new wardrobe. She insisted on keeping purchases to a minimum. “I have a feeling I’m going to be traveling light for a while,” she said. “I still can’t quite believe everything’s gone.”

Olivia’s eyes misted. “Oh, Jenny.” She pulled out her cell phone. “We need to tell Dad, right away.”

“No, we don’t.” Jenny didn’t think of her father as “Dad.” Perhaps she never would. Until last summer, the only information she had about him was the cryptic notation on her birth certificate: “Father Unknown.” Once they had discovered each other, they both made an effort to get to know one another. Still, in her mind, he wasn’t Dad but Philip. A nice enough gentleman who, many years ago, had the poor judgment to fall for Jenny’s mother, Mariska.