“Thought you’d be pleased.” Doris’s eyes gleamed from behind thick, fashionable frames. Near sixty and divorced, she had the energy and stamina of a woman half her age. “She already stopped by this morning, asking about tenant’s insurance, spied your nameplate, and after half a beat, said she’d be back later.”

“To see me.”

“I guess.” Doris lifted a shoulder and rolled her chair back as the fax machine whirred to life. “Uh-oh, looks like someone found us. Probably from the main office.” Adjusting her reading glasses, she walked to the fax machine and waited for the paper it spewed forth. “ Another memo about Isaac Wells, wouldn’t you know,” she said, clucking her tongue and shaking her short blond curls. “Aren’t we lucky to have policies out on him. I wonder what happened to that old guy.”

“You and everyone else in town,” Tiffany said uneasily. Any talk of Isaac’s disappearance reminded her that the police thought Stephen knew more than he was telling. She shivered. Impossible. Not her boy. He was only thirteen.

Doris snapped up the page of information.

“When is Bliss moving in?” Tiffany asked in an effort to change the course of the conversation. How would she deal with seeing her half-sister every working day? Bliss Cawthorne, “the princess.” John’s indulged and adored daughter. The only one of his three offspring allowed to bear his name. Get over it, she told herself as she settled into her morning routine, opening letters and invoices and scanning each with a practiced eye. It wasn’t Bliss’s fault that their father was an A number-one jerk, a man who’d ignored both of his other daughters for years. Until it was convenient for him.

Now, after his brush with death, he wanted to make everything nice-nice. As if the past thirty-odd painful years could be swept away. Just because he’d had himself a heart attack, he wanted to start over. Well, in Tiffany’s estimation, facing one’s mortality didn’t do a whole lot toward changing the past.

Give it a rest, she told herself and, taking her own advice, buried herself in her work. Several policyholders came into the office to pay their bills or fill out claim reports.

Tiffany worked through lunch, balanced the previous day’s invoices, made her daily trip to the bank, and had found time to chat with Doris about the kids and Doris’s planned trip to Mexico while eating a container of strawberry yogurt at her desk.

It was nearly quitting time when the bell over the door tinkled and Tiffany glanced up. Her insides tightened a bit as she recognized Bliss, her face flushed, striding to the front counter.

Wonderful. Tiffany’s good mood disappeared.