“You really don’t know?” When India shook her head, Elaina motioned for her to follow. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. It’s a madhouse down here. Byron is running for Senate and he’s formally announcing his candidacy tonight.”

India froze at the bottom of the curving staircase. Shit. Damn. Motherfucker! She’d hoped to come home, spend a few easy days, maybe a week, catching up with her family and then get the hell out of there. Not arrive in the middle of what was sure to be a full-fledged Robidoux family drama complete with television cameras, adoring friends and political posturing. There was no way her daddy would stand for her popping in and out during her brother’s political campaign. If she’d known, she would have gone straight to Los Angeles instead of opting for a family visit.

Either Elaina hadn’t noticed India wasn’t climbing up the stairs or hadn’t cared, and continued her assent. India resumed her stride and followed her sister to the second-floor family room. Though the downstairs rooms were ornate and grandiose with their antique furnishings, expensive wall hangings and polished surfaces, the upstairs was relaxed and welcoming. This was where the family got together to talk, watch television and spend time together. Dark carpet covered the family room floor and large leather sofas and recliners filled the space before a large television screen on the left. A pool table and minibar occupied the right side of the room.

Elaina went to the bar and pulled a bottle out of the small fridge and two goblets from the cabinet. “Wine?”

“Please,” India answered.

Elaina raised one arched brow. “And here I thought you weren’t a day drinker.”

“A lot’s changed in the years I’ve been away.” Truthfully, nothing had changed. Any other day, she’d say one in the afternoon was too early for wine. But any other day she wouldn’t be home facing her demons.

Elaina poured them wine, then walked over and handed a glass to India. She held up her glass. “Welcome home, sister.” Elaina’s voice didn’t carry any warmth or fondness. That was Elaina. Cold beauty and pragmatism. Warm and fuzzy was not her style.

India clinked her glass to Elaina’s and took a sip. As the crisp flavor of the wine played across her tongue, she glanced around the room. Pictures of her and her siblings along with the various awards Robidoux Tobacco, the vast empire that supported their lavish lifestyle, had won over the years filled the bookshelf. The faint scent of cigar smoke hung in the room that was the heart of the family.

India took a deep breath. The smell of home. Tobacco had made her family rich and turned Robidoux Tobacco into one of the most profitable tobacco producers in the country. Despite arriving in the middle of a publicity storm, India had missed home.