Laura smirked and pointed at her dress. “The question is, what on earth is that?”
She shrugged, embarrassed, tugging the low neckline up and the tight bodice out. “I asked you first. ”
“It’s an elliptical trainer. ” Laura gave her an aggravatingly innocent smile. “You’re looking pretty saucy, baby sister. Is that one of Sorrow Crabtree’s dresses?” Then her eyes lit. “Hey, I know. We should have people dress up. You know, for the festival. ”
As if Laura cared about the festival, really. Getting dolled up in costume would probably be just another way for her trim sister to get attention. “You just want to dress up for the festival. ” She turned her glare at Laura’s contraption. “What’s that doing here?” Just the sight of it made her chest tighten. Moving the furniture had revealed more than she cared to see—the brown carpet was five shades darker where the couch had been, and the baseboards were caked with dust. Just more things for her to deal with.
“Cardio,” Laura answered brightly.
“Put it in your room. ”
“It won’t fit in my room. ”
“Of course it won’t, because it’s ginormous. Careful!” Sorrow dashed between her dad’s recliner and the wall. The moving men were hauling the huge leather chair out of the way and getting too close to the television in the process. If they damaged either, she’d be the one to pay the price. She swung on her sister. “Laura, this cannot go in here. ”
“I thought Dad could work out in front of CNN. It’ll be good for him. ”
Sorrow crossed her arms at her chest. Anything to keep it from exploding. “You mean, you thought you could work out. ” She walked a circle around it. “You know Dad’s never going to use a treadmill. ”
“It’s not a treadmill. It’s an elliptical trainer. They’re better for your knees. ” Her sister continued to use that overly chirpy tone, and it was infuriating.
“Try walking. It works for the rest of us. ”
Laura shook her head. “It’s not the same as cardio. You could use it, too—you need to get your heart rate up. ”
“Are you kidding? Chasing down problems is all the cardio I need. ”
Laura’s expression said she disagreed. “If you say so. ”
Did her sister just give her figure a once-over? Sorrow sucked in her belly, feeling outraged. The snug saloon-girl dress wasn’t helping matters. “What are you doing here really?”
“I told you. I’m rearranging the den. Since when did that become a federal offense?”
“No, Laura. I mean, why are you here? Home. Don’t your minions need you back in San Francisco? If this is just a visit, then why are you installing an elliptical machine?”
Doubt flashed in her sister’s eyes, and Sorrow wanted to exclaim a-ha. Her sister avoided the subject, as expected. “Speaking of rearranging furniture, I can’t believe you all still have that stuffed bear. ”
Sorrow rolled her eyes. The black bear had adorned the foyer since they were kids. And yeah, it was disgusting. But she chose her battles, and her dad’s prized bear wasn’t one of them. “It’s a hunting lodge,” she said flatly.
“It’s disgusting is what it is. ”
“Of course it’s disgusting. But you’re nuts if you think Dad will let us deep-six his bear. His name is Bear, after all. ” Sorrow crossed her arms. Her sister was a master at changing the subject, but she wouldn’t be deterred. “Would you please stay on topic?”
“You tell me,” Laura said. “What’s the topic?”
“Maybe if you’d eat once in a while you wouldn’t have such trouble paying attention. ”
“Maybe if you—”
“The topic,” Sorrow interrupted, not wanting to know what her thinner, fitter sister was going to say, “was, why are you here?”
“To visit,” Laura said, but she’d replied too quickly. “What’s wrong with a simple visit?”
Her big sister had fled Sierra Falls the moment she graduated from high school. There was never a “simple visit” where she was concerned. “You never just visit. So tell me: why’s the big-deal VP taking a so-called sabbatical? What do you want?”
Laura’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I don’t want anything from you. Jeez, Sorrow. Why do you always feel so put-upon? No wonder Damien hasn’t sealed the deal with you yet. ”
Sorrow practically shrieked. “What? What the hell does that mean?”