Kat’s pulse slowed until it nearly halted altogether as she waited for a response.
“Wh-what?” Penny’s color drained, her shock evident.
Comparing the two of them side by side, it was no wonder she had difficulty believing Kat’s claim. Besides their red hair—of which Penny’s appeared more auburn—they had little in common.
“I’m Kat Bennet. Helena Bennet’s daughter. And your half sister.”
Penny sank onto a plum-velvet chaise lounge, her pallid complexion turning puce.
Softening, Kat empathized with her stunned reaction. Although Penny knew of her existence, after months without a single word of correspondence, her impromptu visit had clearly come as a surprise.
Glancing around the quirky shop, she spotted a small refreshment table serving tea and cookies. She quickly filled one of the small paper cups with the hot liquid that smelled of orange zest and cloves and brought it over to her sister, gently sitting beside her.
Penny accepted it with trembling hands and slowly took a sip. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured over the brim. “When I didn’t hear from you after a while, I gave up hope.” She turned to Kat, her eyes glistening. “I’m so glad you came.” Mindful not to spill her tea, Penny slipped her arms around Kat’s shoulders, hugging her tightly.
Uncomfortable with displays of affection, especially from strangers, Kat kept both arms glued to her sides, sitting rigid on the tufted cushion.
Pulling away, Penny wiped her damp cheek with her free hand and asked, “Did Helena ever tell you about me?”
“No, she didn’t. She never talked about her old life.” Kat cringed at her use of the past tense. She’d wanted to ease into the news about Helena’s death, not spring it on her sister with an offhand comment.
But Penny didn’t seem to notice, still in a daze. “I can’t get over the fact that you’re actually here! How long can you stay?”
“I… I can’t stay long.” Chewing her bottom lip, Kat struggled with how to explain her visit. “I’m actually here because I need your help.”
“Anything,” Penny said quickly.
Kat blinked, surprised by her eagerness to help, considering they barely knew each other. “I’m looking for something that belonged to our mother. A brooch crafted out of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. It looks like a sprig of mistletoe. I suppose it’s a long shot that you still have it but I’m desperate.”
“Desperate?”
“Hope Hideaway, a women’s shelter where I live and work, is on the verge of closing. I thought that maybe, if you still had the brooch, you might be willing to sell it and split the money with me. My half would go toward saving the shelter.”
“I see…” Penny’s slender eyebrows knit together.
Kat held her breath, her heart beating in short, agonizing bursts for what felt like hours. This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have sprung this on Penny—it was too much for one person to process in a matter of minutes. Riddled with regret, Kat leaped from the chaise lounge. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I should never have asked you to—”
“It’s not that,” Penny said hastily, scrambling to her feet. “I want to help. You can have the brooch, as long as it’s okay with Helena. Even though she left it with my father, I don’t really feel like it’s mine to give away. But if she’s okay with you selling it, you can use every last dime for the shelter.”
For a moment, Kat stood speechless. She hadn’t expected such selfless generosity. She also hadn’t expected spilling the news about Helena’s death to be so difficult. Although the words rested on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t bring herself to say them out loud, knowing they would incite questions she wasn’t ready to answer. “Thank you,” she said softly, resolving to tell Penny about their mother at another time. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me… to the shelter.”
“I’m happy to help. Truly. Let me flip the Closed sign on the front door, then we’ll head upstairs.”
“Upstairs?”
“I live in the apartment above the shop. The brooch is with my dad’s things.”
Recalling the portion in Penny’s letter about her father’s passing, she offered, “I was sorry to hear about your dad. Were you close?”
“Closer than close.” Penny’s eyes glimmered with warmth. “He was my best friend.”
Unexpectedly, tears welled in Kat’s eyes and she dismissed them with a sharp exhale. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have one loving, dependable parent to speak of with such fondness. But a child didn’t get to choose that sort of thing. They simply had to play with the cards they were dealt. Or in her case, shuffle those particular cards to the bottom of the deck where they belonged.
Kat followed Penny past a thick brocade curtain into a disheveled storage room, then up a narrow staircase, her nerves mounting with each step.
Already emotionally drained from the experience, Kat couldn’t wait to secure the brooch and head back home, where she could leave the entire ordeal behind her for good.
Lost in his thoughts, Jack didn’t even notice the black smoke curling from the cast-iron skillet.
“Whoa! You’re taking charred chicken to a whole other level.” Yanking on an oven mitt, Colt quickly removed the skillet from the heat and switched off the burner.
Snapping to attention, Jack jammed on a lid before the murky cloud set off the smoke detector. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened.”
Okay, so that wasn’t technically true. He’d been daydreaming about the enigmatic stranger who’d nearly broken his arm. But he wasn’t about to admit that to Colt. He also wasn’t going to admit that he’d asked her out after a grand total of five minutes. Even if he did, his friend probably wouldn’t believe him. When it came to dating, Jack wasn’t exactly known for taking chances.
“Don’t tell me Vick and I need to start babysitting you around the stove,” Colt teased.
Jack rolled his eyes. “If anyone needs babysitting, it’s you. Every time I turn my back, you’ve whipped up a new recipe.”
“That reminds me. I wanted to talk to you about doing a special holiday menu.”
Saved by his vibrating phone, Jack eagerly slipped it out of his back pocket. “Hold that thought.” Glancing at the caller ID, he realized he’d forgotten to return his sister’s call. “Hey, Luce.” He pressed the phone to his ear as he stepped into his cramped office at the back of the kitchen. “Sorry I didn’t call back. I got sidetracked. How long ago did you leave LA?”
“About an hour ago.” Her voice crackled in her car’s Bluetooth speakers.
“Great! So I’ll see you for a late dinner. What would you like? I’ll make you anything you want. Except for sushi.” He chuckled, recalling how her tastes had evolved since she moved to Los Angeles after college to pursue her dream of designing movie sets for Hollywood.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you…” She trailed off, and Jack glanced at the phone, checking their connection when he didn’t hear anything for several seconds.
“Luce?” he prompted, reclining in his battered leather chair. He thought about pushing aside the mountain of paperwork to prop up his feet, but he stretched them under the desk instead.
She released a crestfallen sigh. “I can’t come this year.”
“What?” He bolted upright, banging his knee against the sharp corner of an open drawer. Suppressing a groan, he rubbed the sore spot. “What do you mean you can’t come?”
“I want to, but Mom got it into her head that she wants to throw a huge party on Christmas Day and needs my help to plan it.”
“You don’t say.” He couldn’t help the bitter edge that crept into his voice.
Accustomed to being in the middle of their feud, Lucy ignored his sardonic droll. “Why don’t you come to Primrose Valley for Christmas this year? It’s less than an hour away.”
“You know I can’t do that. Besides, Mom’s elaborate parties aren’t really my thing.”
“What about wassailing? The whole family is going. You used to love it when we were kids.”
Closing his eyes, Jack pressed his fingertips to his temple as memories of their family caroling tradition came rushing back. They used to borrow Victorian-era costumes from Sylvia Carter, the local theater director, and carol around town, serving hot cider—classically called wassail—and homemade sugar cookies. Since both of their parents loved to sing, the skill had been passed down to Jack and his siblings. He was surprised to learn they’d maintained the tradition all these years. Although, he imagined their private chef made the wassail these days. And the cookies probably came from some pricey boutique bakery.
When he didn’t respond right away, Lucy pleaded, “Please come, Flap Jack. Everyone misses you, especially Mom and Dad.”
He had to snort at that one. Her statement oozed irony considering they were the reason he’d been alienated from nearly his entire family. “Sorry, Luce. You know I can’t. Are you sure Mom needs you for the whole month?” Only a few days into December, they still had weeks to plan a Christmas party.
“You know how she is. If her event doesn’t rival a White House gala, it’s not worth throwing.”
Oh, he knew all too well. And he hated that their mother’s pretentious extravagance had usurped their time together. “Well, if anything changes, let me know. I’ll be here. And I’ll save Holiday Inn in case you can come after all.”
She laughed although it lacked some of its usual mirth. “Deal.”
Silence filled the speaker, and Jack got the sense she had more to say.
“Something else on your mind?” he asked.
“No, nothing,” she said unconvincingly, bidding him a hasty goodbye.
After the call ended, Jack hung his head in his hands, his heart heavy.
Maybe he should have fought harder to keep the tradition of her annual visit alive, but he’d learned a long time ago that competing with his parents always ended badly.
At least, it had when it came to his ex.