“Dad named you Marina because he really wanted a new bass boat and couldn’t afford a new boat and two babies.”

Marina stared. “How do you know that?”

“I heard him tell it to Six-Pack Steve one night when they were drunk fishing.”

“Did they catch anything?”

“Hell from my mother.”

“Was she upset that you overheard?”

“No. She was upset that they drank the last of the beer.”

Marina nodded. The truth was, neither she nor Halcyon had won the lottery in the mother department. They’d decided long ago to just be thankful their father had died young and hadn’t had a chance to subject more of his DNA to his questionable choices in women.

At least they’d had each other. Their mothers had hated each other on sight, but Marina and Halcyon had always been thick as thieves, even though their personalities were nothing alike. Marina was the calm, polite one—and if she was willing to admit it, too accommodating. Halcyon constantly nagged her for it. Her sister was only six months older but she played the wiser-big-sister role to the hilt. Halcyon was nothing like her name. Marina was certain her mother, Constance, had named her in high hopes that the baby she got would be calm and peaceful. Constance only did drama if she was the one causing it. To her dismay, what she’d gotten was a hurricane on two legs.

Halcyon stopped pacing and stared at Marina. “So what are you going to do? And why are you here? Why did you leave your house? Attorneys advise against that.”

“What was I supposed to do? Give her my good robe? Cook them dinner? I really don’t think I could have joined them for a cigarette and pillow talk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You should have thrown her stolen-silk-covered butt out into the street. Let everyone in town see just what kind of cad Harold is. Instead, you admitted defeat and let that witch take over your castle.”

“But it’s not my castle, remember? Harold inherited that house. I don’t have any rights to it.”

“That’s just bullshit. That place was a dump when Harold inherited it. It looked like a moldy rose garden had thrown up on every wall in the house. You put your time, money, and sweat into making it a showplace. Harold never lifted a finger to help.”

“He did once. But since he almost cut that finger off with the table saw, he stuck to his spreadsheets afterward.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? Look, the bottom line is that I don’t care if he inherited the house or not. You’re due something for all the money you poured into the place. He can’t just set you out like a stray cat.”

“You think I should ask him for money?”

“Damn straight! Marriage is personal. Divorce is business. So either he coughs up some equity or you and I pay a visit to Myrna.”

“Why would we visit Myrna?”

“Because her daughter is the editor of the local newspaper. Harold can give you a very generous payout, or he can be subjected to any number of articles about his proclivity for sleeping with an employee who went to high school with his daughter. Trust me, in this day and age, that is not a good look for a man.”