Skirting the Grave by Annette Blair

Author:Annette Blair [Blair, Annette]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781101539965
Publisher: Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Published: 2011-07-04T22:00:00+00:00

Twenty

I wore a lot of vintage clothing. I dressed like a reporter, with a little card in my hat. I had these fantasies of who I wanted to be, so I’d dress like an explorer, a cowboy. I dressed up like Elton John a lot too. That was another period.

—ILLEANA DOUGLAS

“We raised that girl better than this,” I told my dad, as we stood waiting for the six thirty train that night, trying to figure out where we went wrong.

Sure, I’d been late because my phone was being bugged by the police, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t look like Brandy had made this train, either.

“This is my third trip to pick her up, and I swear if my cell phone rings one more time while I’m standing on this platform—”

“There she is,” he said.

“Oh yeah, the one who looks like a refugee from a thrift store Dumpster.”

“Watch your tone, young lady,” my father said. “Try not to pick a fight on the first day.”

“Sorry, Dad.” Brandy was actually dressed better than Payton had been, and I thanked heaven Brandy came strutting up to us alive and safe and with a twinkle in her eyes. The twit, she’d dressed like that to yank my chain.

I chuckled, because suddenly her clothes didn’t matter. She and her smile did.

Brandy threw herself into my father’s arms, and I saw the glint of moisture in his eyes. He was such a great dad. While Sherry and I favored his side of the family, except that I had Mom’s hair, if Brandy resembled anyone, even the slightest, it was Mom. In looks not demeanor, although she did have my mom’s famous pure, stubborn determination. Now, our brother, Alex, he was a true mix of both parents, almost dad’s clone in build and height, he was a man who fought, physically if necessary, for what he believed in, unlike a certain softspoken professor we loved. After all, an FBI agent would have to be a fighter.

Alex! Damn. Now that Nick, his partner, was out of commission, my brother would be pulled back to work to carry the load for them both. My sister-in-law, Tricia, was going to kill me when she heard I beat the scrap out of Nick. Though this early in her second pregnancy, she probably didn’t pack as much of a wallop. I took comfort in that.

The whole family would be together this weekend for the fund-raiser. That would be great. I hugged my sister Brandy and remembered how scared I’d been when I saw that ambulance yesterday. “Brandy, I’m so glad you’re home safe.”

“Safe? Do you think the world is any safer here in Mystic, just because this is a small town in a First World country? Do you think your high-fashion customers have never committed a crime? What about ignoring the hungry around the world?”

Ignore the dig. Ignore the dig. “My high-fashion customers make up two-thirds of your invitation list for this weekend. And they’re generous to a fault, so lay off.

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