With cheekbones a model would kill for and eyes as bright as a June morning, Bliss Cawthorne looked like a woman who had everything going for her. Slim and blond, she exuded the confidence of a person who knew her own mind and had never wanted for anything. She wore a white skirt, denim shirt, wide belt and sandals. Upon the ring finger of her left hand she sported a single pear-shaped diamond, compliments of her fiancé, Mason Lafferty, a local boy who, despite his poor roots, had returned to Bittersweet a wealthy, successful man.

Bliss practically glowed, she seemed so happy, and Tiffany had to stanch the ugly stream of resentment that flowed whenever she was face-to-face with her half-sister. Fortunately, their meetings had been few and far between. Until now.

“Hi,” Bliss said with a smile.

Tiffany forced a grin. “Hello.”

“Did you sign the lease?” Doris asked and Bliss, her steady gaze never leaving Tiffany, nodded.

“Looks like for the next year at least, I’ll be your neighbor.”

“Welcome aboard,” Doris said, walking around her desk to shake Bliss’s hand. Her bracelets jangled in the process and she grinned widely enough to show off the gold caps on her back teeth. “It’ll be nice to have another woman around here, won’t it?” she asked, cocking her head in Tiffany’s direction.

“Absolutely.”

“It’s just us and Randy around back. He organizes guided tours into the wilderness—canoeing, backpacking, trail riding, whatever.” She fluttered her fingers by the side of her head, as if dismissing Randy’s occupation. “Seth was in the office you’re renting. Semiretired accountant, but he had a cancer scare last winter and decided to sell his business.”

There was nothing that Doris liked more than gossip and she didn’t get as many opportunities as she wanted, so she was anxious to bend any ear she could.

“I hear you’re marrying that Lafferty boy.”

Bliss’s grin widened. “Next month.”

“Pretty soon after your father’s big to-do,” Doris observed.

“I guess it is.” Bliss was a little noncommittal, and Tiffany realized that her half-sister had her own reservations about their father’s impending nuptials. Not that Tiffany blamed her. It seemed that the old man had kept Brynnie, his bride-to-be, as his mistress off and on during most of the duration of his first marriage to Bliss’s mother, Margaret. The guy was a creep. A slime. And you’ve got his blood running through your veins whether you like it or not.

“I’ve decided to take out the renter’s policy,” Bliss said, as if the subject of her father’s wedding was a little touchy. “I’ve listed all the assets—computers, fax machine, copier and furniture.” She and Doris began discussing the policy as Tiffany printed invoices. She heard Doris giving Bliss her best sales pitch for life, auto and liability insurance while slipping her a business card.