“Don’t you think this dance is a bit simple?” Roxanne asked. She felt awkward as she stood in the center of the rehearsal studio watching him explain the steps. After their night of love making, she didn’t know how to act with him. A cameraman filmed their rehearsal and she wondered if their night of passion showed on her face.
Nick had chosen the iconic meeting between Dorothy and the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz.
“Not simple,” Nick said. “Effortless.” He positioned her and then took up his own stance. The music started and she twirled around him while he acted as though he truly was made of straw.
She stumbled and he just grinned. “Again.”
She started from the beginning, but keeping her mind on the dance was difficult after last night. The memory of his hands on her body sent spirals of heat through her. And now as they moved through the dance steps she couldn’t box up the memory so she could keep her mind on her steps.
They moved through the routine a couple more times. The cameraman, having gotten what he wanted for the show, waved as he took off, leaving them to finish in private.
“You’re getting better,” Nick said.
“I’m just getting better at moving my feet faster and catching myself before I fall.”
Nick laughed. He whirled her around. The preshow interview had been that morning and Roxanne realized she was beginning to relax.
Nick kissed the tip of her nose. “Keep your mind on the steps.”
“Hard to after last night.”
“I am kind of impressed with myself.”
Roxanne punched his shoulder. “Stop that.”
“The whole world knows we kissed.”
“I don’t want the whole world to know we’ve gone way beyond the kiss.” Roxanne’s body tingled at the memory of him in her bed, his solid warmth and gentle lovemaking. Even though she’d dated over the years, she hadn’t found a man she could tolerate long enough to get beyond the getting-to-know-you stage. She always had the feeling that her parents had set her up with some of the men she’d gone out with. Too often the men would question her about her relationship with her parents and once the word parent was out of his mouth she was gone. She’d walked out a number of times on men who’d pushed and prodded so much she just knew her parents were trying to trap her into some outburst that they could exploit.
And now she’d allowed Nick to get close to her and worried he would leave because of the crazy that was in her life at the moment.
“You’re frowning,” Nick said. “Stop frowning.”
“I’ll try.” She paused for a moment. “Not working. I’m afraid I made a mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been exposed to the crazy that’s my life. Do you want to get any deeper?”
“I like you. I’ll deal with the crazy because I have my own brand of crazy.”
“Deveraux crazy is special.”
“True,” Nick countered, grinning. “But I still think I’m man enough to take it.”
Roxanne tilted her head. “I’ve never heard anything about you.”
“Broadway is a long way from Hollywood.”
“So what happened?”
“Her name is Margo Kirby.”
“I’ve heard of her.” Margo was one of the top-grossing Broadway performers.
“I choreographed her last show.” He frowned as he slowed to a stop. “And we kind of got involved and things went downhill from there.”
So I’m not the first colleague Nick has gotten involved with?
“Did you love her?”
“Looking back, I think I was in love with the idea of being in love with her.”
“Did she love you?” Her words sounded stilted.
“No, she wanted to own me.” He slid an arm around her and drew her into a step. They practiced a few more minutes and he stopped again. “She wanted her own personal pet and I didn’t want that.”
“What happened?”
“She turned nasty. And my reputation suffered. When Mike offered me a chance to relocate here, I took it.”
She cupped his cheek knowing how he felt.
They twirled a bit more with Nick coaxing her to smile.
“What are you going to do about your grandfather?” she asked when they stopped to take a quick break and drink water.
“See, I have my brand of crazy, just like yours.”
“I don’t think finding a missing part of your family is crazy.” She understood his ambivalence. How did a person react after discovering that everything they knew was something else entirely?
“I’m going to talk to my brother Daniel about how this needs to be handled. Daniel’s good at making sense of difficult situations.”
“You started this search for your mom and for you because you wanted to know, too, and it’s not turning out the way you envisioned.”
“My mother is a tough woman. She can roll with the punches and I’ll be telling her the truth because she would want to know.”
She took a sip from her water bottle and recapped it. “Come by tonight. My grandmother helps me and she’s uncovered a little bit more about Lionel Stanton’s ancestors. I think you’ll enjoy finding this out.”
He smiled at her in such an intimate way that her insides went all soft and rubbery. “I’ll be there. I could bring dinner.”
“Thanks, but my grandmother is on a cooking binge and my refrigerator is stuffed with food.”
* * *
Nick rang the doorbell. Roxanne opened the door and grinned at him.
“You look happy,” he said.
“I am.” She stood aside and gestured him into the house. “I found some interesting news.” She led the way to her dining room.
The house smelled deliciously of fresh bread. His mouth watered. “What kind of news?”
She pulled a sheet of paper out of a folder and handed it to him. “I discovered a little more about your grandfather Lionel. His family settled in Philadelphia in 1870. And you’ll never guess where they came from.”
“Come on, he’s black, it’s a gimme.”
She grinned and handed him another sheet of paper with a list of names. “His family migrated from England. This is the passenger list of the steamer, Summerland.” She pointed to a name. “Dr. Charles Stanton, his wife, Victoria Stanton, and two children, Cornelius and Miles, traveled from London to New York.”
He studied the list. “So my grandfather’s family came from England. What’s so important about that? England had slaves, too.”
“Your ancestor and his family traveled first-class.”
Nick took another look at the passenger manifest. “I’m not certain I know what that means.”
“Your ancestors had money. A lot of money.”
He squinted at the names. “First-class! I don’t know what you’re getting at.” He tried to wrap his mind around the fact that his grandfather’s family had come from England.
“You are not understanding. First class in 1870 was not the same as first class today where you might get a better seat and a warm, moist towel. First class in 1870 meant you had a butler, a maid, maybe your own personal chef and possibly a nanny for the kids. I doubt the use of doctor was honorary.”
He frowned at the list of names realizing that his idea of where his family might have come from might not have been correct. “So where do you go from here?”
“I have contacts in England and though it will take some time, I think this trail is going to go somewhere unexpected. And since my grandmother provides cheap labor...”
“I heard that,” a voice called from the second floor.
“...and is incredibly nosy, we’re going to give her a day or two to search through English records.”
“What kind of records?”
“First off,” she said with a smile, “we know he was a doctor. So that means medical school. Since he had enough money for first-class tickets for himself and his family that meant he probably attended a good school. Edinburgh is where we’ll start and branch off from there.”
“Charles Darwin and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle went there.”
She grinned and handed him another sheet of paper which appeared to be a newspaper article. As he read, he felt a deep surge of excitement.
The Right Honorable Lord Baron William Bartlett of Kindersley House, Sussex, announces the engagement of his daughter, the Honorable Victoria Bartlett, to Dr. Charles Stanton, a London physician.
“Wow,” he said.
“Your three-times great-grandmother came from minor aristocracy.”
He read the marriage announcement again. “I don’t know what to say.”
“In the world as we know it, there isn’t much that trumps English nobility.”
“How is that possible? They were black.”
“England was a different country.”
“But England did have slaves.”
She nodded. “But not all blacks were slaves. From what little research I’ve done so far, blacks started appearing in England in the mid-1500s. That doesn’t mean they didn’t have as tough a time in England as they did in America, but in order to get a better picture, I need to do more research. One thing I will say about the English—they were masters at record keeping. Not as good as the Germans, but pretty close.”
“I’m stunned.”
“Like I told you up front, looking for your ancestors is going to dig up a lot of information and a lot of secrets and a lot of gaps.”
“Is there a way to find out why Dr. Stanton left England?”
“That’s my grandmother’s job. She hasn’t found anything yet and tomorrow is another day. Digging through history is an enormous jigsaw puzzle and painstakingly slow. So you need to be patient.”
“I don’t think my mother knows any of this.”
“A lot of times, stories are handed down from generation to generation and the facts get scrambled. Imagine waking up one day and looking at yourself in the mirror and realizing you’re related to Thomas Jefferson. A few months later you meet your blue-eyed, blond-haired cousin. Until DNA tests were done, no one officially knew about his distaff side even though speculation raged for years. Imagine the shock around the dining table one day. And look at me—I’m from a long line of con men. Ending up acting put me right inside the family business.”
“It’s a lot to take in.”
“And until all the facts are found, all you have is a lot of unrelated information.” Roxanne shuffled through the files on the table. “I’m going to need time before I can make a cohesive report.”
“But it is exciting.”
She grinned at him. “I love discovering all these little facts and putting them in order.”
Donna clattered down the stairs, a small duffle bag over her shoulder. “Heading out to bingo,” she said as she passed them. She kissed Roxanne on the forehead, waved at Nick and was gone, the front door slamming shut after her.
Nick wasn’t totally certain how he felt. He had a friend who’d been deeply disappointed that his ancestors hadn’t been slaves, but even more upset because his ancestors had owned their own slaves. History was filled with anomalies.
He needed to think about this. Everything he thought he knew about his mother’s family history wasn’t at all what he thought it would be.
“You want to do some more tonight?”
He looked at her and he could feel the desire tighten in his belly. “Nope.”
“You should relax.”
“You are right.”
“Good.” She kissed him.
He slipped his jacket off and let it slide to the floor before wrapping his arms around her. Then he lifted her up and he felt her wind her arms around his neck, pressing her lips against his.
After what seemed like hours he slid her down his body until her feet touched the ground. “Well, hello to me.” He kissed her again. His body was aching for her. He had to have her now.
She moved against him and slid her tongue over his lower lip.
He groaned and pulled her closer to him. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. She made everything in his world seem right. He thought he’d been serious about a woman before, but Roxanne was a hurricane compared to that little afternoon breeze that meandered through his life. She was everything he didn’t know he wanted until she showed up in his world.
“When you kiss me like that, I have a hard time thinking about much of anything.”
“Good, I’ve done my job.” She pulled him back down and kissed him again.
He nipped her lower lip, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine and to the rest of his body.
Roxanne slid her hand down his back slowly as if she were committing his body to her memory. She moved her hands back up and between their bodies to unbutton his shirt.
Nick pulled back to help her take off his shirt. They continued kissing as they reached the bed. Nick picked her up and placed her on the bed, keeping one leg on each side of her. He pressed his lips to her mouth as her hands explored his skin. He wished she were wearing less clothing so Nick slid his hands under the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head.
He kissed a trail down her neck and somehow got her out of her lacy red bra. When he reached the tops of her breasts, he pressed his mouth to one nipple, teasing it to stiffness. He slid his finger along the waistband of her thong, kissing her jaw and moving down her neck. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful in all his life. Her skin was warm and satiny. A molten feeling spiraled through him.
She fumbled his belt off. He was anxious to get out of his pants and inside of her before he lost control. Again he helped her finish the job and kicked his pants and shoes off. His socks came next and he thanked God that his dancer’s body was flexible. He stumbled off the bed, shucked his boxers and quickly got himself protected with a condom, before slipping back onto the bed.
He kissed her hard. She arched up and his hands moved to her back. He moved down to her hips, sliding his fingers into the waist of her panties and then sliding them off. He pulled back to look at her.
“You are perfect.” His kiss was soft but demanding before suddenly turning deep and hard.
She giggled. “Thank you. You’re not bad, yourself.”
His hands were everywhere, soothing and causing a yearning in her. When he palmed one of her breasts and bent to take the firm nipple into his mouth, she gasped.
He teased the other nipple with his fingers, pinching it lightly. He kissed the space between her breasts and started moving down her stomach, occasionally nipping the soft skin as he went.
A moan escaped her lips.
His hands moved her legs apart and he slid a finger into her soft, molten core. He moved down and slid his tongue over the wet sensitive skin, and sliding into her before moving back up, teasing her. He moved his tongue over her again and again. She groaned from the pleasure and heat he brought out of her. Just when he thought she couldn’t take any more, he felt her muscles tighten and release with the full power of her orgasm. He moved up and slid himself inside her, never taking his eyes off her.
For a moment he didn’t move, just watching her face. She pulled him closer so that she could kiss him, moving over his face to kiss his jaw, throat and chest. When she slid her tongue over the spot where his neck met his jaw, he groaned and started moving in slow strokes with her. She pressed her hips into his, sensing his need for more of her. He took the encouragement and began moving harder and faster. His pleasure was so intense that when he slid his hand between them for a moment, finding her bud, she came almost instantly. He continued to move inside her as he teased and pinched her hardened nipples. The combination of the sensations set him on fire. He was dying trying to keep a handle on himself. Seeing her pleasure, Nick began moving faster until he let out a scream of his own. He lay down on the bed beside her and pulled her into his chest.
“That was pretty all right.”
She blew out a long breath. “The dismount was a little shaky.”
“I will work on that.”
“Give me a minute so the stars realign.”
“I can do that.”
She burst out laughing. And again he was amazed how comfortable she made him feel.
* * *
“Hello,” Portia said as she entered the kitchen.
Roxanne glanced over her shoulder as she stood at the stove cooking bacon. “You’re here awfully early.”
Portia sniffed. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Omelets.”
“Why are there four plates on the counter?”
“I was expecting you for breakfast,” Roxanne said.
Portia frowned at her. “I didn’t know I was even going to come until half an hour ago. Mom is having a meltdown of some sort and I needed to get away.”
Nick entered the kitchen, his hair damp from his shower, shirt unbuttoned and no shoes on his feet.
Portia stared at him. Roxanne resisted the urge to poke her sister.
“Hello, there,” Portia said with a smug glance back at her sister. “I see the two of you have gotten to the after-kissing stage.”
“Would you believe we were rehearsing and it got so late, Nick spent the night?”
“I believe that a whole lot,” Portia replied, sarcasm in her tone.
“Actually,” Nick said, “I’m just a figment of your imagination.”
Portia punched his shoulder. “For a figment of my imagination, you take a good punch.”
Nick just laughed. He sat down at the kitchen table. Roxanne opened the oven and pulled out a platter to slide an omelet onto a plate. She added bacon and set the plate in front of him.
“Are you still staying for breakfast?” Roxanne asked her sister.
“That’s why I’m here.” Portia sat at the table across from Nick, braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers. “You realize this would be gold for Mom and Dad, don’t you?”
“And I know you will never tell them.” Roxanne slid another omelet onto a plate, added bacon and placed the plate in front of her sister.
“Not in a million years, but you need to know that our parents hired a private investigator to spy on you.”
Roxanne stared at her sister. “You’re kidding.” Would this person be dogging her every step? She and Nick would have to be more circumspect.
“I never kid about things like that.” Portia popped a bit of bacon into her mouth.
Their grandmother entered the kitchen and, after a sharp look at Portia, added an extra mug to the table and started pouring coffee. She studied Nick for a second, a knowing look in her eyes before filling his mug, as well.
“Do you know who they hired?” Donna asked. She frowned as she sat down.
“Not yet, but I’ll find out.” Portia took a sip of coffee.
“This is not good.” Roxanne filled a plate for her grandmother and set about making another omelet for herself. Then she sat down next to Nick. “What am I going to do? I’m a grown woman and they want to control me...again.”
Donna patted Roxanne’s hand. “Just ignore them.”
“If I react, I send the wrong message. If I don’t react, I send the wrong message.” Roxanne rubbed her temples. Her parents could take any reaction from her and change it to make them look good and make her look like the most vile villain in the world. “How did our family turn out to be so dysfunctional?”
Portia chuckled. “Dysfunctional would be an upgrade.”
“Let me deal with them,” Nick said. “What can they say about me? If they indulge in a petty squabble with me, they look bad. I may have only been in Los Angeles a few years, but I’m not without my resources.”
Roxanne didn’t know if she was comforted or not. On one hand she felt protected by Nick’s announcement, but on the other hand she felt as though she should solve her own problems.
Nick finished his breakfast, cleared his plate and coffee mug from the table and loaded them in the dishwasher.
“Sometimes,” Donna said, “I regret not fighting harder to keep Eli when Rasheed and I divorced. But I wanted Eli to know his father, I just didn’t think Eli would turn out so vindictive.”
Roxanne held up a hand. “Stop, Grandma, our father turned out the way he turned out because of his decisions. He had choices. He ran things with whatever was the least amount of work. He put his children to work supporting him. What does that say about him?” Or her mother who followed right along with those decisions.
Donna shrugged.
“I have to get going, I have a meeting in forty minutes. Let me handle things for you, Roxanne. I’ll see you at the dress rehearsal at ten.” He bent over to kiss her cheek, grinned at Donna and Portia and left.
A few minutes later, Roxanne heard the sound of his car starting up and fading away.
“I need to shower and get ready for the fitting.” Roxanne pushed away from the table. “The first elimination round is tomorrow night and I want to be ready.” Hopefully she would be, but right now her heart wasn’t in it.
* * *
Nick stood in the waiting area. Outside, the band was tuning up. Roxanne stood next to him bouncing back and forth on her toes.
“Calm down,” he said.
“I’m too nervous,” she replied. “If I don’t do well, I’ll be gone.”
“No, you won’t,” he said. “You’ve improved and social media is solidly in your corner.” He slid an arm around her. She looked fabulous in her cute little Dorothy outfit, though it was a lot more seductive than the original movie costume. Small red hearts dotted both the blue skirt and the crop top. The skirt came to midthigh and the crop top revealed her toned abs. White fishnet stockings adorned her legs to just over her knees contrasting with the red sparkly dance shoes on her feet. Her hair was braided and the plaits hung down to her shoulders.
Nick’s own costume itched. Someone had the bright idea to use real straw to simulate the scarecrow’s outfit. Straw poked out of his hat and the neck of his plaid shirt. The shirt was torn and a few pieces of glued-on straw decorated the holes. The bottom of the pants ended midcalf and large red hearts decorated the legs.
“You look pretty sexy,” Roxanne said.
“For the first time in my life, I understand that beauty is painful.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I may look hot on the outside, but the inside of my pants itches.”
“I’m lost here.” Roxanne glanced up and down.
“Somebody had the bright idea to glue straw on the insides of my pants.” He gestured at the wisps of straw hanging from his pockets. “I will not be unhappy to lose this costume when the evening is over.”
“If you’re nice to me, I’ll happily help you scratch your itch.” She gave him a coy smile.
“I’m going to let you, sexy Dorothy.”
The director finally had the cameras in position. The opening dancers stood on their spots and the band opened with their first number. The audience stilled, all eyes on the dance floor. The opening dance number began. Credits rolled across the monitor as the show got under way.
Their dance went a lot smoother than their first one. Roxanne was more comfortable and Nick felt a spurt of pride as she moved almost gracefully into each step. The judges were kind.
“I’m surprised I didn’t get eliminated,” Roxanne said.
Nick walked her to her car. “The audience loves you.”
“I feel a little sorry for Barbie. I thought she did well.”
Nick shrugged. Barbie Foster had been a model whose wild lifestyle had derailed her career and she was now trying for a comeback.
“The audience liked her well enough, but they loved you more,” Nick replied.
She clicked her remote at her car. A tiny beep sounded and the interior lights came on.
“But she did well. It seems as though the competition has nothing to do with talent, but popularity.”
“That will end after a few more eliminations and it gets harder to decide. Right now everyone is still in the beginner phase. With the exception of Norma Dover, everyone else started at the same place.”
Norma was an Olympic ice-skater and dancing was a normal part of her routine.
Nick opened the door to the driver’s side for her.
“Later on,” he continued, “the decisions the judges will make will be based on improvement rather than ability. Today, you were more comfortable on the dance floor. For the first time your normal bubbly self was as much a part of your dance as you were.”
Roxanne looked pleased. “I’ll have to practice harder.”
“You need to practice bringing more of yourself onto the dance floor. Kirstie Alley was hilarious on Dancing With the Stars. The audience loved her and even though she didn’t win, she made it to the final round and most of that was because of her personality.”
“I’m hardly in her league,” Roxanne said.
“Last season, Mia Gallier stated up front she was overweight and over-the-hill and she still won. And trust me, I have the broken toes to prove it.”
She gave him a sharp glance. “What are you saying?”
“Mia was a terrible dancer for the first six weeks and then something just clicked with her. From the first episode she was the fan favorite. She had this wonderful biting wit and was hilariously self-deprecating. The audience had a hard time not falling in love with her. If she hadn’t won, I think riots would have happened.”
He wanted to kiss her, but was conscious of the possibility of a hidden camera trained on them. “Tomorrow we’re taking the day off.”
“And doing what?” She tilted her head up at him, a soft smile on her face.
“We’re having a day at the beach. Mike and Nancy have invited us for lunch. They have their own slice of beach and we can relax.”
“Sounds delightful, but I do have work to do on your genealogy.”
“You said you were waiting for information from England and it would take a few days. I’m not a taskmaster. I think you can take a day off.”
She eyed him speculatively as though weighing his words. “I guess I can take a day.”
She opened the door to her car, got in and started the motor. She waved as she backed out of the parking space and headed to the street.
Nick watched her go, wishing he were going with her, but he was having a late dinner with his parents at their restaurant. Once a month was standard procedure for the whole family to get together after the restaurant closed at eleven. They would cook and talk and just be a family.
How he would get through it knowing the truth about his mother’s father was beyond him.
What was he going to do? He knew he needed to talk to her, but he didn’t have the words just yet and everything needed to be just right.
* * *
Roxanne practically waltzed into the house on winged feet to find her grandmother and Portia waiting for her.
“You did good tonight,” her grandmother said.
“I was third from the bottom.”
“No,” Donna said, “you were being cunning and letting everyone else be overconfident.”
“Yes, Grandma, let’s go with that.” Roxanne filled a glass with ice and water and drank it down in one gulp.
“I think you did wonderfully,” Portia said.
“I feel better about my performance and I feel that I’ve improved. Also, I didn’t see Mom and Dad. If they were there they were keeping themselves on the down low.” Just knowing her mother wouldn’t be able to criticize her to her face made her happy.
Portia grinned. “We were having a family meeting.”
Instantly, Roxanne was filled with dread and suspicion. “What did we meet about?”
“Strategy,” Portia said. “Mom and Dad are trying to figure out a way to blackmail you so you’ll do the movie.”
“Good luck with that.” Roxanne refilled her glass of water and drank a second one. Since she’d started dancing with Nick, she drank a ton more water than she normally did.
“The private eye isn’t getting much on you. You lead an incredibly boring life, sister.” Portia’s eyes twinkled with merriment. She sipped her wine.
“Thank you.”
“That poor guy talked to every one of your neighbors he could track down. They all love you. Mom and Dad were so annoyed, they fired him.”
“My neighbors don’t love me,” Roxanne objected wondering how the private detective was able to get past the guard at the gate. “They love Grandma’s oatmeal-raisin-white-chocolate-chip cookies.” Donna had been wooing the neighbors since they’d first moved in. First with cookies, then handmade Christmas gifts that she hand delivered to everyone in the cul-de-sac. Donna had always been generous.
“I make the best,” Donna said. “I think I need to get another couple batches out now and distribute more so everyone remembers their lines.”
“Have you been bribing people again?” Roxanne asked.
“Bribe is such an ugly word,” Donna said with as innocent a look on her face as she could manage.
“Grandma, you’re the best.” Roxanne kissed her grandmother, thankful the woman was on her side.
“I hid a few. Let’s get a bottle of wine and eat them.” Donna opened a cabinet and pulled out a cookie tin.
“I’ll get the wine,” Portia said and opened the wine fridge for a bottle of pinot grigio.
Roxanne grabbed three dessert plates and set them on the kitchen table. “What else happened at the meeting?”
Portia removed the cork and grabbed three wineglasses. She poured and handed a glass to Roxanne. “Mom has been talking to TMZ. They loved the video of you and Nick kissing even though they didn’t get the mileage out of it they thought they would.”
“And,” Portia continued, “they decided that Mom would do a critical analysis of your dancing after every episode in an attempt to keep the fire going because she thinks the judges are being too kind to you.”
“How does Mom think her critical comments are going to embarrass me enough to want to do the movie? They’re just going to make it look like she’s trying to sabotage me if the public knows the comments are hers.”
“She says she has more juicy stuff that she’s been saving.”
“The PI just told her I have a boring life. And other than sleeping with Nick, my neighbors aren’t talking.”
“We have loyal neighbors and if they want more of my cookies, they know what not to say,” Donna put in with a smug smile. “Besides, people don’t live in this neighborhood to have their dirty laundry aired. They know better than to invite gossip into this area. If they start selling you out, you have license to do the same.”
But Roxanne was still focused on her mother’s plan to sell dirt on her. “I’m a grown woman. I can’t imagine what she thinks she has over me.”
“TMZ isn’t always about what’s true.”
“In my opinion they are just one step away from stalking.” Her mother was trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.
“Look,” Portia said gently, “Mom’s comments could work against her. The audience loves you and anything she says could be construed as sour grapes. All she can really offer is innuendo.”
Roxanne sighed and rubbed her temples. Crap like this was one of the reasons she preferred to stay out of the spotlight.
Dread coursed through Roxanne. “A person can make a lot out of innuendo.” This hostility with her parents was going to get vicious. “How do I counteract it?”
“No matter what you do they will find a way to use it. Continue ignoring them. You’ll get through this.”
Roxanne bit into a cookie savoring the sweet, almost spicy taste. Her grandmother added a secret ingredient which she refused to indulge. Roxanne never pushed her. Everyone was allowed secrets even if the secret was one simple ingredient to a recipe.
Secrets could destroy a family or make it stronger. She wasn’t going to knuckle under to her parents’ blackmail. Like her sister, she would get through this.