A Bullet to the Heart by Kathy Wheeler (most read books of all time .TXT) 📕

“You argued?”

“Of course not. Nothing so dramatic. She’ll calm down and things will go back to normal.”

Tevi spun in a small circle. Jo watched as she took in the round chamber, the seafoam-green braided rug. “I love this room. It feels as if it hasn’t changed a bit since we moved here as children. Not like the entryway. Goodness, that tiled floor is almost blinding.”

Jo soundlessly agreed. “That’s part of its charm, I suppose. Surely, this isn’t the first time you’ve been back.”

Tevi shrugged and, after a moment, she took Jo’s arm and tucked it into hers. It took considerable effort to keep from jerking her arm away. Still, as Tevi drew Jo down to the settee next to her, Jo couldn’t help wanting to keep her distance. A little of Jo’s tenseness seeped away as Tevi let out her contentment in a soft whoosh of breath, not seeming to realize how uncomfortable Jo was.

“Ah. Lady Grey, my favorite.” Tevi sipped. “I never understood why you were so touchy about physical contact.”

And, with luck you never will. In an act of sheer determination, Jo tightened her grip on her cup.

“Seems to me everyone relishes affection now and then.” Tevi took another gratifying sip. “I, personally, have found it easier to catch flies with honey if you get my meaning. I mean, really, how are you ever going to attract a fly, let alone a man?”

In a blink, Jo choked on a swallow and the stiffness in her neck had returned ten-fold. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean aren’t you interested in finding a suitable husband? You need to use a little honey.” She sipped again, letting her comment sink in.

Jo’s skin started to itch.

“Not to make you more uncomfortable, darling, but...” she paused grinning. “On my way here, I stopped to sign us up for the mother-daughter tea after church on Sunday.” Tevi sat back, her gaze watchful.

Heat crawled up Jo’s neck to her face. The statement was a deliberate dig, Jo didn’t attend church and certainly not on the island. She didn’t care for Reverend Knox. “Really, Tevi, Victor just died. How could you suggest such a thing?”

“I’m kidding. I didn’t sign us up for tea. I just get tired of you acting as if you are my mother and not my older sister.”

“Who else was there to look after you and Lydia after—” Jo jumped to her feet and paced across the room, castigating herself for letting Tevi draw her in, and so quickly. The girl had a definite talent. Jo moved to the fireplace and studied their grandmother’s condescending gaze boring down at them from the gargantuan portrait over the mantel.

Seconds later, Tevi’s shoulder brushed her own. Jo increased the distance between them. She glanced over and saw that her sister had kicked off her shoes and resumed her natural height, almost a full head shorter than Jo. She was such a tiny thing. The fight went out of Jo as they both gazed up at Grandmother Claudia’s stern face. From the corner of her eye, she caught Tevi sticking her tongue out at the picture.

Jo bit back a sudden rush of unexpected laughter and said, “It’s eerie how much you look like her. Grandfather had that portrait painted as a wedding gift when she was just your age. She was a force of nature, wasn’t she? You could be twins.”

This time Tevi stuck out her tongue out at Jo. She flounced back to her chair and plopped down.

“Well, it certainly explains why Uncle Victor favored you over the rest of us,” Jo said. “It was no secret he adored Grandmother.”

Tevi’s nose wrinkled. “I would rather have taken after you and Lydia if you must know. Great Grandmother Penrose was tall and slender. Instead I have to wear heels just to reach the closet rod.”

The laughter Jo had stifled earlier unexpectedly erupted now. “Lydia and I are, what, three inches taller than you?”

“Five, I think.” Tevi grinned, and the heaviness in the room lifted in a puff of smoke.

Jo gazed about. How could anyone not feel a sense of fulfillment around the thousands of books here? She inhaled the deep aromas of citrus, lemongrass, and bergamot wafting up as she leaned forward and poured out another cup for her sister.

Tevi picked up her tea. “By the way, where is Lydia? I thought she was coming today.”

Jo thought back to that night a few weeks ago when Lydia stormed Jo’s bedroom at the penthouse and informed her that their mother, Eleanor, had not committed suicide sixteen years before, but was in fact, alive and had been stashed in the Aurora Mental Institution. Jo had been adamant Lydia leave Eleanor to her fate. She wouldn’t dare cross Jo. Not on this.

Jo shrugged even as unease whispered through her. “I expect she’ll arrive soon. I have no idea what time.”

Tevi’s mischievous gaze narrowed on Jo. “How utterly fascinating.”

The sun shone brightly through a lower stained-glass window. Victor’s Italian Mastiff bounded across inlaid stone and jumped against the French terrace doors, his paws almost reaching the top.

“Heavens. He’s going to break the windows, JoJo,” Tevi said, jumping up from her chair and hurrying over to let him in.

“Down, Frizzle,” Jo snapped, sternly. The dog sat back on his haunches.

“How do you do that? He never minds me,” Tevi muttered.

There was no opportunity for Jo to answer as the dog bolted from the room to the front hall, barking ferociously. Jo went after him.

Esther swung back the heavy front door and stepped out on the veranda. Jo followed, shielding her eyes into the waning sunlight and watched as a long black car slithered up the drive like a snake. Her stomach dipped as the car pulled to a stop in the curved drive. Carver, Victor’s in-town chauffer, got out and strode around to open the back passenger door. Lydia, their middle sister, exited the vehicle and stepped out of the way. Another young woman then emerged, assisting a thin, gaunt-looking woman from the