Crista’s eyes narrowed, the bitterness rising in her throat. “Really? Well, that’s not what I heard this morning.”
Tessa’s face crumpled, and she pressed her fingers to her temples, as if trying to block out the words. “He’s not here to defend himself,” she murmured. “He’s dead, and you can’t talk about him like this! He’s dead!” She looked like she might buckle if Lacey hadn’t been holding her.
Crista closed her eyes. “I’m sorry for you,” she whispered. “Sadly, we know how hard it is to lose your father. But, under the circumstances, I think it’s best if you leave our house.”
“Crista!” Vivien’s voice was as sharp as her scowl. “You don’t even know this woman. You’re just doing what you always do—parroting Maggie.”
Crista grunted with frustration. Yes, she was here doing her mother’s dirty work. But their father went to prison and died there because of Artie Wylie. That changed everything. Didn’t they see that?
Looking around at their expressions of disapproval aimed at her, it appeared they did not.
“Believe me, I don’t want to—I don’t,” she insisted. “I know you all think I’m Maggie two-point-oh, but it’s not true. This is not a rumor or gossip or a memory. This is a fact. He was the reason Dad went to jail, where he died.”
White as a ghost, Tessa held up a shaky finger and pointed at Crista. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. My father was a paragon of virtue and integrity. No finer man ever lived. And yours?” She gave a bitter, humorless laugh. “A common criminal convicted of fraud, embezzlement, and theft.”
Crista gasped and looked at Eli, waiting for him to rise to their father’s defense, but he just flinched, his jaw tightening, his eyes closing as though he’d taken a punch to the face.
Tessa looked at him, too, her face softening slightly. “I’m sorry, Eli. I know that hurts you. But…” She shook her head, taking a step back. “Never mind. I don’t want to do this. I don’t… I can’t…” She turned on her heel and strode toward the back of the house. “You win. The Lawsons win. I’ll leave now.”
“Tessa!” Lacey called, running after her. The sound of her footsteps echoed down the hall, leaving the rest of them standing in awkward silence.
Vivien turned to Crista, her expression both disappointed and weary.
Jonah’s face looked pale, his lips pressed into a thin line.
And Eli? Crista couldn’t stand to look at her big brother. The sadness in his eyes was unbearable.
Silent, Eli stepped out onto a dimly lit deck, disappearing from sight. Crista’s shoulders slumped, the fire that had driven her here slowly cooling into ash. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Or Jonah. Or Vivien. But what choice did she have? They needed to know the truth.
Plus, she’d given her word to her mother she’d tell them and get them to agree never to speak to a Wylie again.
Vivien followed Eli outside, and Crista remained in the living room, her arms crossed over her chest as she tried to come down from the adrenaline rush. She glanced toward the hallway where Tessa and Lacey had disappeared, her stomach churning with a mix of guilt and anger.
What if Maggie had been wrong? What if it wasn’t as simple as Artie Wylie betraying Roger?
Her fingers tightened on her arms, her nails digging into her skin. A flash of her daughter and husband danced through her head, a reminder that the perfect life she’d built back in Atlanta felt like it was hanging by a thread. Her sudden bouts of temper like this were certainly not helping her rocky marriage or Nolie’s challenges in school.
Slightly calmer, she looked out toward the deck, where Eli and Vivien were deep in conversation, their heads close. Like every other moment she’d spent in Destin, they were keeping her out of the inner circle, having lives and friends and conversations she was too young and too distant to enjoy.
And what had she done to change that? Forget drama queen. She’d come in like the Grand Empress of Theatrics, proving that some things never change.
“Aunt Crista.” Jonah put a light arm around her, his hazel eyes looking clear and warm. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
She smiled up at her handsome nephew, who she hadn’t seen in way too long. On a sigh, she dropped her head on his strong shoulder. As fast as it came on, the fight left her body.
“Yeah, I’ll have a great big bowl of damage control.”
He chuckled and gave her a squeeze. “Around here we call that a gin and tonic. Coming right up.”
Standing against the railing next to his sister, Eli closed his eyes as Vivien delivered a whispered pep talk about how he was the architect to build bridges between the families.
All he could hear in his head was…
You will never lay eyes on anyone with the last name of Wylie ever again!
Crista’s histrionics aside, he knew who’d really issued that decree. He didn’t know why—Crista hadn’t actually explained anything other than sweeping accusations with no specifics. Did it matter? Only one person in this family had the power to tell all of them what to do, when to do it, and what the price would be for disobeying.
When Maggie Lawson told her grown children what to do, they usually did it.
