Once Sierra had distributed dessert to everyone, she went back to the kitchen counter to grab her own slice, intent on drowning the extra-large piece of chocolate pecan with an extra-large dollop of homemade whipped cream. As she was about to grab her plate, though, Kennedy picked it up, along with her own plate, and headed to the back door.

“Grab forks and napkins,” Kennedy said as she slipped out onto the three-season porch.

Sierra stared after her for a second, then glanced at the rest of the group. No one was paying them any attention. With a shrug, she did as her sister ordered.

“Isn’t it considered rude to ditch your guests?” she asked after easing the door shut.

“Sit,” Kennedy bossed. She’d set their plates on the high-top cafe table that overlooked what was usually a lush, green backyard but was now showing the last signs of any color before the winter freeze. She flipped the power on a space heater nearby.

With a glance toward the inside of the house, Sierra slid onto the stool, because there was her pie, and she was going to eat it no matter where her sister led her. “Why are we out here?” she asked.

Kennedy went over to the wet bar, selected a bottle of red wine from a countertop rack, and busied herself opening it. “We all have our needs. Mrs. Knowles needs an alcohol-free environment, and my sister needs a glass of wine.”

Sierra thought she might weep in gratitude. “I was managing without,” she said stoically.

Kennedy got the cork out, took down two stemless goblets from a hanging rack, and poured the deep garnet liquid into each. She brought them over to the table, handed Sierra one, and sat on the other stool. “Your smile is too wide today.”

That one sentence had the charade screeching to a halt. Sierra’s throat thickened with all the emotion she’d been trying to block out for the whole day, and she couldn’t respond.

“I admire the effort, and I think you fooled everyone else, but I’m your sister,” Kennedy said. “And I know not winning the Eldridge thing was crushing.”

Sierra set her fork down before she could take a single bite. Tears popped into her eyes as if they’d been right there under the surface waiting for the first moment she was alone, or almost alone.

“Dammit,” she said, and the first tear rolled over the rim of her eye and down her cheek. She’d texted the contest results to Kennedy on Tuesday when her sister had asked, had given her the few details she knew, and then changed the subject. Her sister had let her get away with it then, but clearly that wasn’t to be now.