She reached for the towel she’d left on the sand and dried the ends of her hair. Most of her life had felt as if she was caught in a strong current, pulled and tugged in a direction she didn’t want to go. She’d been trapped by the force of it, flung around by Cliff and by the media, battered on the rocks of life. But she’d survived, and she’d survive this next crisis, whatever happened.

She hadn’t read the article yet. She’d learned long ago that she couldn’t control what they wrote, but she could control what she read and she’d chosen not to read it.

Usually she was protecting herself, but now she was protecting Ashley.

It was Cliff who should have been doing that, of course, but even if he hadn’t driven himself into a ravine, he wouldn’t have stepped up. Responsibility wasn’t an ingredient he ever selected from life’s menu.

He’d missed out by denying the existence of his daughter. Quite apart from the basic question of responsibility, Ashley was delightful. She was smart, funny and caring. And she was fierce in a way that Joanna had never been at the same age. She questioned, where Joanna had accepted.

She glanced up at the house, but there was no sign of life. Ashley was probably still sleeping, no doubt exhausted after the emotional confessions of the previous day. Hopefully she hadn’t yet read what had been written about her.

Joanna walked barefoot back to the house, formulating a plan.

She and Ashley would stay home, and no matter how many journalists gathered at their gates, they wouldn’t make a comment. She’d handled the fallout of Cliff’s public indiscretions so many times before that she barely had to think it through.

She took her time in the shower, washing away salt and sea with her favorite citrus bodywash. Then she dried her hair and smoothed cream onto her face and her body. Despite sunscreen, she’d managed to burn a little and she spotted a few extra freckles when she studied herself in the mirror.

She dressed in jeans and a white shirt and then walked into the kitchen. Ignoring her laptop, she slid pastries into the oven and waited for them to warm.

She felt better than she’d thought she would.

Talking to Ashley had been cathartic. The facts remained the same but the painful emotions had lessened.

She squeezed juice, and piled everything onto a tray. She was going to persuade Ashley to eat. It was going to be a tough day and facing it on an empty stomach wouldn’t help.

Joanna carried the tray through to the guest suite and tapped on the door.

There was no answer, but she opened the door quietly. If Ashley was sleeping in, then she’d leave her, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.