thing," Barbara was saying. "We'd been married just a little over a week."
"It must not seem real," Mae comforted her, not adding it doesn't seem real to me.
"Well, legally it's real." Barbara's eyes swept the room's contents. "My things will begin arriving on Monday."
"Things?" Mae echoed. "What things?"
"My furniture and things." Barbara's eyes narrowed. "I'll be moving in, of course."
"Of course." Mae tried to regroup. "Why?"
"Because this was Armand's house." Barbara's voice sharpened. "He'd want me to be here."
Mae repressed the impulse to point out that Armand was dead and even if he was watching them now, he probably didn't give a damn where she lived. Armand's interests had always centered solely on Armand. If there was an afterlife, Armand was scoping out the possibilities of after-profit, not worrying about his widow. And now that she'd spent a few minutes with Barbara, Mae wasn't sure why he'd wanted her around when he was alive. Of course, she had the Ross name. Old money. Just like Armand to acquire a wife with the equivalent of a label on her butt. Poor Stormy was generic, and Barbara was private brand.
Barbara's voice cut through her reverie. "This won't be a problem, will it, Mae?"
"Of course not." Mae smiled brightly at her. "I'll just alert June and Harold that you're coming."
"Fine. And give them two weeks' notice while you're at it." Barbara's eyes swept the room again. "I have my own help."
Mae clenched her teeth to keep from telling Barbara what she could do with her help. "Actually, Barbara, that would be a very bad idea. We can talk about this later, but for now, I'll just not mention the two weeks' notice."
Barbara opened her mouth, and Mae took her arm and moved her toward the front of the room. "After all, this is a memorial, not a discussion of Armand's assets. We must remember Armand now. Which reminds me, Uncle Claud will want to see you." She smiled at Barbara coldly, not adding to find out if you really married his brother. Let Claud handle that.
"We're brother and sister now, Claud." Barbara extended her hand to the old man.
"Hello, Barbara," he said, taking her hand for a nanosecond before dropping it.
"I know you'll be glad to know that I'm moving here," Barbara went on, as if daring Mae to object. "It's what Armand would have wanted."
Claud looked at Mae. "I will take care of this."
"She plans to fire Harold and June," Mae said. "I suggested that would be bad."
"Well, really, Mae." Barbara stared down her nose at her.
"Harold and June will stay," Claud said flatly.
"I fail to see the reason—"
Claud's voice cut across Barbara's. "Because that is what Mae wants. Half of the equity in this house is yours. We will work out suitable financial recompense."
"I don't want money." Barbara made cash sound like something unclean. "I want to live in Armand's house, just as he intended."
"Fine, I'll take the money," Mae said.
Claud's eyes slid to hers. "Is that what you want?"
"I don't like this house. Harold and June and I would be happier somewhere else."
Claud's eyes panned back to Barbara's. "I will negotiate the sale."
"I don't want to buy anything." Barbara sounded exasperated. "I'm Armand's widow. I don't have to buy anything."
"I'm missing something good, aren't I?" Mitch whispered in Mae's ear, and she jumped in surprise as his breath tickled her neck.
"Where's Stormy?" she whispered back.
"Some face in an expensive suit came and took her away from me." Mitch grinned at her. "I was so glad, I almost tipped him."
"And who is this?" Barbara did not sound amused.
Mitch turned to Barbara, and Mae could tell from the way he looked at her that he had her number immediately. He took her hand and pumped it. "Mitchell Peatwick. Sorry about your loss. When exactly did you marry Armand?"
"A week ago Monday in Barbados." Barbara answered automatically as she recovered her hand. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before."
"No," Mitch agreed. "Why did he
"It must not seem real," Mae comforted her, not adding it doesn't seem real to me.
"Well, legally it's real." Barbara's eyes swept the room's contents. "My things will begin arriving on Monday."
"Things?" Mae echoed. "What things?"
"My furniture and things." Barbara's eyes narrowed. "I'll be moving in, of course."
"Of course." Mae tried to regroup. "Why?"
"Because this was Armand's house." Barbara's voice sharpened. "He'd want me to be here."
Mae repressed the impulse to point out that Armand was dead and even if he was watching them now, he probably didn't give a damn where she lived. Armand's interests had always centered solely on Armand. If there was an afterlife, Armand was scoping out the possibilities of after-profit, not worrying about his widow. And now that she'd spent a few minutes with Barbara, Mae wasn't sure why he'd wanted her around when he was alive. Of course, she had the Ross name. Old money. Just like Armand to acquire a wife with the equivalent of a label on her butt. Poor Stormy was generic, and Barbara was private brand.
Barbara's voice cut through her reverie. "This won't be a problem, will it, Mae?"
"Of course not." Mae smiled brightly at her. "I'll just alert June and Harold that you're coming."
"Fine. And give them two weeks' notice while you're at it." Barbara's eyes swept the room again. "I have my own help."
Mae clenched her teeth to keep from telling Barbara what she could do with her help. "Actually, Barbara, that would be a very bad idea. We can talk about this later, but for now, I'll just not mention the two weeks' notice."
Barbara opened her mouth, and Mae took her arm and moved her toward the front of the room. "After all, this is a memorial, not a discussion of Armand's assets. We must remember Armand now. Which reminds me, Uncle Claud will want to see you." She smiled at Barbara coldly, not adding to find out if you really married his brother. Let Claud handle that.
"We're brother and sister now, Claud." Barbara extended her hand to the old man.
"Hello, Barbara," he said, taking her hand for a nanosecond before dropping it.
"I know you'll be glad to know that I'm moving here," Barbara went on, as if daring Mae to object. "It's what Armand would have wanted."
Claud looked at Mae. "I will take care of this."
"She plans to fire Harold and June," Mae said. "I suggested that would be bad."
"Well, really, Mae." Barbara stared down her nose at her.
"Harold and June will stay," Claud said flatly.
"I fail to see the reason—"
Claud's voice cut across Barbara's. "Because that is what Mae wants. Half of the equity in this house is yours. We will work out suitable financial recompense."
"I don't want money." Barbara made cash sound like something unclean. "I want to live in Armand's house, just as he intended."
"Fine, I'll take the money," Mae said.
Claud's eyes slid to hers. "Is that what you want?"
"I don't like this house. Harold and June and I would be happier somewhere else."
Claud's eyes panned back to Barbara's. "I will negotiate the sale."
"I don't want to buy anything." Barbara sounded exasperated. "I'm Armand's widow. I don't have to buy anything."
"I'm missing something good, aren't I?" Mitch whispered in Mae's ear, and she jumped in surprise as his breath tickled her neck.
"Where's Stormy?" she whispered back.
"Some face in an expensive suit came and took her away from me." Mitch grinned at her. "I was so glad, I almost tipped him."
"And who is this?" Barbara did not sound amused.
Mitch turned to Barbara, and Mae could tell from the way he looked at her that he had her number immediately. He took her hand and pumped it. "Mitchell Peatwick. Sorry about your loss. When exactly did you marry Armand?"
"A week ago Monday in Barbados." Barbara answered automatically as she recovered her hand. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before."
"No," Mitch agreed. "Why did he
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