Circe then shot me a wicked grin, before taking the arm of the young man by her side. Duely greeted them, and I watched as they walked away. I was going to find her later, after the ceremony, when my mother was otherwise occupied and see if she would elaborate on my father.

“Catalina, your guests have arrived. Please escort them to their seats and then return.” My mother’s words drew my attention back to the door as Heath, Margo, and Rathe walked up the steps toward the entrance.

“Who is he?” Leanne asked, her voice full of interest.

“Better question is why is he here?” I replied annoyed.

Leanne turned her head to look at me. “Do you know him?”

I could save him from my sister, or I could let her draw him in just to use him. “He isn’t wealthy,” I told her, although I wasn’t sure of that. He had paid Heath upfront for his rent. I studied my friends’ faces for an answer to Rathe’s being here. It wasn’t like Heath enjoyed being around him.

“I don’t have to keep him, but I’d like to play,” she drawled.

He shouldn’t have come, but he had, and now he was going to be sucked in by my sister. There wasn’t time to figure out a way to stop it when they walked in the door, and Leanne was stepping forward to completely ignore Heath and Margo to get to Rathe.

“Leanne,” my mother called her back instantly. Her voice said all she needed to say. She had been warned. Leanne, reluctantly, stepped back, but she kept her eyes locked on Rathe and the full magnitude of her appeal had been released. I could feel its power.

“You made it,” I said to both Heath and Margo, before barely glancing at Rathe. I didn’t want to see his reaction to Leanne’s siren call.

“It looks amazing, I mean this house is gorgeous all the time, but the flowers and lights are out of this world,” Margo gushed.

“Yes, my aunt is very talented when it comes to decorations,” I said, taking Margo’s hand and leading her away from the entrance. Heath and Rathe both followed, without a backward glance in my sister’s direction. Rathe seemed unaffected by Leanne. That was odd. Margo was busy gawking at everything.

“She must also be British,” Rathe said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Pausing, I made eye contact with him this time. “Who?” I asked, already knowing what he meant but needing to make sure I didn’t misunderstand him.

“Your aunt,” he replied, holding my gaze.

“She lived in England for a time, but she’s definitely not British,” I explained, hoping he wasn’t going to add to that comment.

“I didn’t know one could find so many Hollyhocks in the southern part of the US.”