She sported a delicate, glowing tan—likely nurtured on some Italian beach or her new husband’s yacht. Her makeup was perfect, which told Laurel she’d taken the time to stop and freshen it up before the “popping in.”

“Mac’s not home.”

“Oh, well, I’ll just say hi to Carter.” She waved a hand in a practiced way that had the sun exploding off the substantial diamonds in her wedding and engagement rings. “See what my future son-in-law’s been up to.”

“He’s with Mac. There’s nobody to pop in on, Linda. You should get back to New York.”

“I can spare a few minutes. Don’t you look ... professional,” Linda said with a quick eye flick up and down Laurel’s suit. “Interesting shoes.”

“Parker made it very clear to you, Linda, that you’re not welcome here.”

“Just a moment’s pique.” Linda dismissed it with a shrug, but temper sharpened her eyes. “This is my daughter’s home.”

“That’s right, and the last time you were in it, she told you to get out. I haven’t heard she’s changed her mind on that. I know Parker hasn’t.”

Linda sniffed. “I’ll just wait inside.”

“Try to open that door, Linda, and I’ll put you on your ass. Guaranteed.”

“Who the hell do you think you are? You’re nothing. Do you really think you can stand there in your off-the-discount-rack suit and ugly shoes and threaten me?”

“I think I just did.”

“You’re only here because Parker feels obliged to put a roof over your head.You don’t have any right to tell me to stay or go.”

“Rights won’t much enter into it when you’re picking yourself up off the ground. Go back to New York and your latest husband. I’ll tell Mac you were here. If she wants to see you, she’ll let you know.”

“You always were cold and hateful, even as a child.”

“Okay.”

“Small wonder with that tight-assed mother of yours. She liked to pretend she was better than anyone else, even when your father tried to screw the IRS, and any woman who wasn’t your mother.” Linda smiled. “At least he had some heat in him.”

“Do you think it bothers me that you and my father had sex in some sleazy motel room?” But it did, Laurel thought as her stomach muscles squeezed. It did.

“A suite at the Palace,” Linda countered. “Before his accounts were frozen, of course.”

“Sleazy’s sleazy, whatever the venue. You don’t matter to me, Linda.You never did.The three of us tolerated you because of Mac. Now we don’t have to. So, do you need me to help you to your car, or would you rather get there without limping?”