Holding the Dream by Nora Roberts Page A

repeated, her small, almost fairylike frame revving high as she stalked around the lush glass-walled room. “Well, I’m not upset. I’m past upset and heading beyond pissed. How dare they? How dare those pinheaded idiots think for one minute, for one instant, that you’d steal money?”
    She slapped at the swaying fronds of a potted palm. “When I think how many times the Bittles have been guests in this house, it makes my blood boil. Treating you like a common criminal. Escorting you out of the building. I’m surprised they didn’t bring out the cuffs and the SWAT team.” Sun pouring through the glass walls glinted fiercely in her eyes. “Bastards, idiot bastards.”
    She pounced, all five feet two inches of raging fury, on the slim white phone beside the padded chaise. “We’re calling Josh. We’re suing them.”
    â€œHold it. No, hold it, Laura.” Torn between tears and laughter, Kate slapped a hand over her friend’s. For the life of her, Kate couldn’t remember why she’d hesitated to come here, to Templeton House. This was exactly what she’d needed to snap her back. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the tirade, but—”
    â€œYou haven’t begun to see a tirade.”
    â€œI’ve got nothing to sue them about. The evidence—”
    â€œI don’t give a fuck about evidence.” At Kate’s bubble of laughter, her eyes narrowed. “Just what the hell are you laughing at?”
    â€œI’ll never get used to hearing you say ‘fuck.’ It’s just not natural.” But she swallowed because the laugh had come perilously close to hysteria. “And seeing you storm around this elegant room with all the hibiscus and ferns is quite a show.” She caught her breath. “I didn’t come here to send you on a rampage, though it’s doing wonders for my bruised ego.”
    â€œThis isn’t about ego.” Laura struggled to get a grip on her temper. She lost it rarely because it was a powerful thing,a dangerous thing. “It’s about defamation of character, loss of income. We’re not going to let them get away with this, Kate. We’ve got a lawyer in the family, and we’re going to use him.”
    There was no use in pointing out that Josh wasn’t a litigator. She certainly wouldn’t have told Laura that the very thought of pursuing the matter, particularly through the legal system, had her feeling nauseated again. Instead, she struggled to keep it light.
    â€œMaybe we could have him tack on loss of consortium, just for kicks. I always liked that one.”
    â€œHow can you joke?”
    â€œBecause you’ve made me feel so much better.” Suddenly she felt like crying again, and hugged Laura tight instead. “I knew in my heart you’d stand behind me, but in my head, in my gut . . . I was just so shattered. Oh, God.” She eased away to press a hand to her stomach. “I’m going to start again.”
    â€œOh, Kate. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Gently now, Laura slipped a hand around her waist. “Let’s sit down. We’ll get some tea, some wine, some chocolate, and figure this out.”
    Kate sniffed back the tears, nodded. “Tea’s good. Alcohol hasn’t been agreeing with me lately.” She managed a smile. “Chocolate never fails.”
    â€œOkay. Just sit right here.” Normally she would have gone to the kitchen herself, but she didn’t want to leave Kate alone. Instead she crossed the glossy fieldstone floor to the intercom by the doorway—the system Peter had insisted they install to summon the servants. After a few murmured instructions, she came back to Kate and sat down.
    â€œI feel so useless,” Kate said. “So stripped. I don’t think I appreciated, really, how Margo must have felt last year when she had the rug pulled out from under