Three Sisters. Сьюзен Мэллери
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what you did. Dr. H said to let you know that we’ll help in any way we can with interviewing staff and helping you set up.”
Andi was speechless for a moment. “That’s very kind of all of you.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“Obsessed with his son,” Laura said with a sigh.
“My son, the doctor,” they all said together, then broke into laughter.
Their server came by and took their orders. Andi decided to try the famous chicken salad sandwich.
“Have you started construction on the house?” Nina asked when the server had left. “That’s got to be a big job.”
“It is. Fortunately I don’t have to do any of it.” Andi shrugged. “I just walk through in the evening and pray for progress. They’re pretty much gutting each floor.”
“You’re going to have your practice there?” Nina asked.
“On the ground floor. The plans are finalized. Wade showed them to me on Saturday.”
“Oooh, Wade.” Laura pretended to fan herself. “He’s so hot.”
“And a little young for you,” Misty reminded her.
“Honey, I’m just looking, although if he offered a taste, I wouldn’t say no.”
Andi felt her eyes widen. “He’s popular, then?”
“He’s practically a god,” Dawn admitted. “He and I went to school together. I had a crush on him from the time I was twelve. He never looked at me.”
“His loss,” Nina told her.
“I wish that were true. He’s a good guy.”
“Love his ass,” Laura said, then glanced at Andi. “Have you seen it?”
“I, uh, hadn’t really noticed.”
“You need to. And just think. It’ll be there at the end of every day. You’re a lucky woman.”
Andi didn’t know what to say to that, which turned out to be a good thing because she’d suddenly had a moment of inspiration. “What does his wife think about all the women around here ogling her husband?”
The other four women glanced at each other. Misty raised her eyebrows. “He’s not married.”
“His wife died,” Nina said. “Cancer. It was very sad.”
“He has a daughter,” Dawn added. “She’s twelve. Carrie. A real sweetie. She and my daughter sometimes hang out, although her real best friend is Madison Phillips. The Phillips family lives next door to you.”
There was another moment of the women looking at each other, followed by a second of silence.
“I’ll say it,” Laura announced. “Have you met Deanna Phillips? She owns the house beside yours. She’s a complete and total bitch.”
“I met Boston.” Andi quickly calculated the relationship. “She would be Wade’s sister-in-law and Zeke’s wife? Do I have that right?”
“You got it,” Nina told her. “And I’m not sure I agree that Deanna’s a bitch. She’s...intense.”
“Sanctimonious, you mean,” Laura said. “Those poor kids.”
All Andi knew was that Deanna had been standing on her porch a couple of days ago, crying.
Dawn shook her head. “Deanna is one of those mothers who makes her own bread, only buys organic and doesn’t let her girls watch TV unless it’s educational. There’s nothing wrong with that,” she added quickly. “It’s just...”
Laura chimed in. “She’s always telling people how long that damn house has been in her family. She can’t have a regular garden. No. Hers is in perfect keeping with the perfect style of her perfect house.”
“Not that you’re bitter,” Nina said.
“I didn’t have a lot of money growing up,” Laura said. “I’m not going to say different. Deanna grew up just as poor as me, but to hear her talk these days you’d think she personally came over on the Mayflower. I worked with her once organizing a charity wine tour. I didn’t like her.”
“Really?” Misty said. “Because you can’t tell at all.”
“I haven’t met her,” Andi said, suddenly not anxious to do so. She was having trouble reconciling the information on Deanna with the sad woman standing alone in front of her house.
“She’ll be nice to you,” Nina told her. “She has five daughters, so she must be thrilled to have a pediatrician living next door.”
“Built-in customers,” Andi murmured. She cleared her throat. “I met Boston last week and we talked this weekend. She seemed nice.”
“She’s great,” Nina said.
“An artist,” Laura added. “I have two of her paintings. So beautiful. She makes most of her money from hand-painting fabric for designers all around the country. But her true calling is portraiture. She does lovely work. My husband had her do a painting of our two children about ten years ago. Boston was barely out of art school. That picture still hangs in our living room. It’s wonderful.”
Misty nodded. “She and Zeke have been together since they were kids. True love. It’s nice to see.” Her eyes darkened. “It’s too bad, what happened.”
Everyone went quiet. Laura looked up at Andi. “She and Zeke had a baby about a year ago. He died when he was six months old. It was a heart condition. She was holding him and he just went. I couldn’t believe it when I heard. They didn’t deserve to lose their little boy.”
“I didn’t know,” Andi murmured. While she’d never lost a child of her own, she’d been with parents who had. Their pain had stayed with her.
“We don’t usually gossip this much,” Nina said into the silence that followed.
“Yes, we do,” Laura told her. “And more. We’re being good because Andi doesn’t know us very well and we want her to like us. You should see us after a glass or two of wine. We’ll straighten that curly hair of yours.”
Andi reached up and pulled one of her curls. “I wouldn’t mind straight hair. When I was little, I read a book about a girl who got scarlet fever. They had to shave her head and her hair grew back curly. I used to ask my mom to take me to the hospital so I could find someone with scarlet fever and get their germs. I was hoping my hair would grow in straight.”
Laura slowly shook her head. “I can’t decide if that’s the sweetest story I’ve ever heard or the saddest. Either way, it’s good to know you’re just as crazy as the rest of us.”
“Why would I be spared crazy?” Andi asked with a grin.
“Excellent point, honey. Excellent point.”
* * *
Andi arrived home at exactly five-fifteen in the afternoon. She might still be adjusting to island life, but she had to admit she was loving the work hours. She’d been home before five-thirty both days. She knew eventually there would be emergencies that kept her out later every now and then, but the pace of life was sure slower than in Seattle.
She parked in her driveway, next to a battered pickup truck. She recognized it from her meeting on Saturday morning and quickly checked her appearance in her rearview mirror. Not that there was much to do. It wasn’t as if she was going to suddenly start wearing more makeup.
She smoothed her hair and made sure none of the mascara had migrated to under her eyes, then grabbed her purse and stepped out of her SUV. At least she’d showered and was dressed decently. The last time Wade had seen her, she’d been exhausted, scruffy and fleeing dive-bombing bats.
She