Misappropriate by Kathryn Kelly, Crystal Cuffley

stand on the porch freezing half to death. Judging by the satisfaction in the other woman’s whiskey colored eyes, she knew it, too. Meggie clenched her jaw and mumbled bitch under her breath.
                  “Obviously, I need to talk to you,” she snapped.
                  Zoann glowered at her, the stubborn set of her jaw reminding Meggie of Christopher, even though brother and sister looked nothing alike. While Christopher had black hair and green eyes, his sister had a wealth of chestnut hair and whiskey colored eyes.
                  “Do you want to come inside?” she asked sourly, stepping aside a fraction, the small space she cleared cuing Meggie in on the other woman’s preference.
                  Not answering, Meggie scooted past her and closed her eyes in bliss at the warmth of the house. Baby things were scattered here and there, a play yard in one corner. A blue diaper sat on the patterned sofa. A huge photo of Patricia, Zoann, and the four other girls stood front and center on the wall above the sofa, irking Meggie to no end because another face belonged with them.
                  “Aren’t you missing someone?” She folded her arms and thrust her chin toward the picture.
                  Zoann shut the door with a definitive thud and leaned against it. She lifted a brow. “Am I?”
                  Enough was enough. “I’m sorry about Patricia, Zoann. I didn’t know her very long, but I’ve grieved for her, too. She never met my son—“
                  “Or mine,” Zoann spat, rocketing forward and stopping inches away from Meggie.
                  Perfect distance for Meggie to slap some sense into her head. She narrowed her eyes. “Or yours. But the way you treated Christopher is unforgivable. You owe him an apology. All of you do.” All five of his sisters had been complete bitches to him at their mother’s funeral. “At this point, I don’t think groveling at his feet and begging his forgiveness would be too much to ask.”
                  “If this is what you came to talk about, leave . Christopher is responsible—“
                  “Oh my God,” Meggie shrieked, jabbing Zoann’s shoulder. “You’re such a bitch. Christopher isn’t responsible for anything. And if you ever say something like that to him again, I’ll make you sorry.” Forgetting her purpose for visiting her sister-in-law, Meggie stormed to the door. A baby’s cry halted her and she yanked the door open. “I came here on behalf of Val, not Christopher. Whatever’s going on between you and Val, get over it. He has every right to see his son just as if you were together.”
                  Zoann turned on her heel and stomped toward the other room with a, “hold on a moment” tossed over her shoulder.
                  As good as her word, she returned holding a little boy who had a mop of brown hair but eyes the color of Val’s, his mother’s full mouth and the impression his nose would take of the shape of his father. Plopping down in the rocking chair near the window, Zoann led her son to her nipple, then glared at Meggie.
                  “You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong—“
                  “I beg to differ. My nose is exactly where it belongs. Those guys are my family and I won’t stand for anyone treating them less than they deserve. Especially Christopher ,” she bit out.
                  “How do you know I haven’t given Val permission to visit—“
                  Meggie snorted.
                  “I resent the insinuation of that snort.”
                  “As if it matters to me what you resent,” she retorted.
                  “If he wanted to see his son so bad, he could’ve tried to reach me again himself instead of