“Naw. We just had a soda downtown,” Katie said as Tiffany set Christina onto the floor and the little girl barreled out of the room. The sound of small footsteps scurrying up the stairs reached Bliss’s ears. Katie made an idle gesture with one hand. “I thought it was time we all got together.”

“I’ve been thinking about it, too,” Tiffany admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. She fiddled with the chain on her watch. “I know I should have said something the other day when you, Bliss, came looking for Mason, but . . . well, you took me by surprise and I didn’t know what to say. Then, as the days passed, I decided I didn’t have to do anything until I was ready.”

“Or someone forced your hand,” Katie said with a shrug.

Tiffany nodded and splayed her fingers in front of her. “Look, I believe in telling it like it is, so to speak, and I’ve got to tell you straight-out that I don’t like what’s happening.”

“You’re not the only one.” Bliss was so uncomfortable, she wanted to climb out of her skin and disappear. Instead, she sat on one of the cushions in the window seat overlooking a side yard filled with heavy-blossomed roses and a rusting swing set.

Katie plopped onto the couch. “Have you made any decisions yet?” she asked Tiffany as she ran a finger around the stitching on one arm. “About the wedding? You know that Dad—or John, or whatever it is I’m supposed to call him—really wants you to come to the ceremony.”

“I got the invitation. And he called. But I don’t think so. You know, just because he’s had a change of heart, or some kind of personal epiphany or whatever it is, I can’t just forget all the years that I didn’t know of him.” She wasn’t smiling and looked as if her mind was cast in concrete. Bliss suspected that no one pushed Tiffany Santini around.

Katie was just as stubborn. “I can’t make up your mind for you, but—”

“No buts about it. I’m not going. And you’re right—you can’t make up my mind for me.”

Amen, Bliss thought, but Katie, forever the steamroller, plunged forward. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea if we all tried, if possible, to bury the hatchet, so to speak?”

Tiffany lifted an already-arched brow. “Why?” “Family unity. Solidarity. All that stuff.”

Bliss’s stomach clenched.

“Solidarity,” Tiffany repeated with a little cough. “Family unity. That’s rich.” With determination flashing in her dark eyes, she settled onto the ottoman of one of the overstuffed chairs. “Let’s understand each other. You want to go, Katie, because, after all, your mother and father are finally getting married. And Bliss”—she turned those wary eyes in her middle sister’s direction—“it makes sense for you.”