Kerry just closed her eyes.

“So, I ran,” Dar said. “I ran out of there and kept running, all the way home.”

“From Connecticut?” Kerry asked, very softly.

“Yeah,” Dar replied, just as quietly. “I hitched back…walked…took a bus once in a while. Gave me time to get it out of my system.”

“The anger?”

Dar shook her head. “The grief.”

Kerry regarded the frosted glass in front of her. “You know something, Dar?”

“Mm?” Dar slipped her arm around Kerry’s back.

“I wish I’d had a father worth that kind of feeling.” Kerry’s eyes closed as Dar encircled her arms around her and pulled her close.

Dar rested her cheek against Kerry’s hair. “You do.”

That’s true, Kerry acknowledged. After knowing them less than a year, she was closer to Andrew and Ceci than she had ever been to her own parents after most of her lifetime. She loved Dar’s parents deeply, just as she did their daughter, and she was grateful beyond words that she had them in her life.

Is it even worth staying for the service tonight? “Let’s go home,”

she whispered. “I can’t change how they feel about me, Dar. I’m going to leave them to their hatred and stupidity.”

“All right.” Dar hugged her. “Home sounds good to me, too.”

DAR FOLLOWED KERRY out of the solarium and across the Thicker Than Water 105

quiet, spacious parlor. “It’s a nice place.” she glanced around.

“Plenty of room.”

Kerry slowed her steps and turned around. “I guess it is. I never really thought of it that way, though, because so much of the house was pretty much off limits to us as kids.” She paused, then walked to a painting on the wall and looked at it, and touched the canvas with a curious finger. “We used to get pun-ished for grabbing anything.”

Dar had wandered next to Kerry. “Punished?”

“Yelled at,” Kerry clarified. ‘Sent to our rooms, mostly.” She eyed the painting. “I only got hit once that I remember, and all because of this damn stupid thing.”

“Really?” Dar examined the painting. “What’s there to this that’s worth being hit for?”

“It’s a Renoir.” Kerry indicated the signature. “And I always thought it was way too dull and ugly, so one day I took my box of one hundred and twenty-eight Crayola crayons and changed that.”

Dar bit the inside of her lip, but a tiny snort of laughter escaped anyway. “Oh boy.”

“Mm. Yeah, it wasn’t pretty.” Kerry smiled faintly. “I had to drag one of those antique chairs over here and climb all over it to get all the squares filled in. Did I mention it had been raining outside, and I was covered in mud?”

“Oh, Kerry.” Dar covered her face with one hand. “You want to know something really funny?”

“What? Did you do the same thing when you were a kid?”

Kerry turned and grinned at her. “Don’t tell me that.”

“No.” Dar shook her head. “If I’d shown the least bit of interest in drawing, my mother would have thrown a party. But on the way up here, I was thinking of how much I wish we’d met sooner.” She rested a hand on Kerry’s shoulder. “I would have liked a friend like you.”

Kerry spared a moment to remember the increasingly lonely years after her childhood, a life full of acquaintances and parties, activity and publicity, but very few real friends. She would have loved to have known Dar then, but she also knew the sad reality of the fact that her parents would have prevented their friendship.

“I’m glad we didn’t.” She covered Dar’s hand with her own to soften the words. “I wasn’t ready to know you back then.” Dar cocked her head in mild consternation. “I still believed in my parents, and they…” Kerry glanced away, then back up at Dar’s face.

“I’m glad I met you when I did.”

Dar’s lips twitched into a smile. “Do you really think I’d have let your parents stand between me and a friend, even at that age?


106 Melissa Good We would have been tabloid city: ‘Wild child corrupts senator’s daughter—film at eleven.’”

Kerry had to smile, both at the sentiment and the mental picture.

“Besides,” Dar pointed at the picture, “anyone with the will to color by number a Renoir would have been right up my alley.”

She surprised Kerry with a gentle kiss. “My mother would have adopted you in the vain hope you’d rub off on me.”

Kerry drew in a breath, then released it as a certain tension eased out of her. She put her arms around Dar and simply hugged her as hard as she could. Then she released her. “C’mon. Let me give you the ten cent tour then. I don’t know if I’ll have another chance.” She held out a hand, which Dar took, then led the way through the labyrinth of rooms.

The first place they went was the library. Kerry pushed the door open and was hit with the inimitable smell of a critical mass of books. The room had traditionally dark paneling and a thick wool rug, with heavy leather and brass bound furniture and floor to ceiling shelves of books on all four walls.

“This was a favorite spot,” Kerry said, as Dar roamed around the room and studied the books. “Not so much for the subject matters—I brought my own books in here—but it was always a nice, quiet place to hide in.” She walked to a chair near the corner and settled into it. “Seems a lot smaller now.”

Dar walked to the chair and leaned on it. “I also had a spot I used to disappear with a book into. Wasn’t as cushy as this, but I know what you mean.”

Kerry nodded. “Your dad’s a big reader. Was that really Wuthering Heights on his workbench the other day?”

“Mmhm,” Dar murmured.

“Incredible.” Kerry got up and tugged Dar after her. “One of the good things about all these doors is that you could always escape out one way if anyone official or anything was coming in the other way.” They walked down one hallway and turned into another. “Here’s another favorite spot.” She pushed open a swinging door and peeked into the kitchen.

Dar poked her head in also, to see a large, well laid out room with commercial quality cooking equipment. A tall, black woman entered from the other side, then stopped in surprise at seeing two faces looking back at her.

“Ms. Kerry? Is that you?” the woman asked, setting down a bundle of clothes she’d been carrying. “C’mon in here!”

Kerry eased the door open and entered. “Hello, Betsy. Yes, it is.” She walked over and gave the woman a hug. “Been a while, huh?” A year, to be exact. “You look great.”


Thicker Than Water 107

Betsy smiled. “Honey, so do you.” She looked curiously at Dar. “This your friend?”

It didn’t even feel strange, which, in and of itself, was very odd. “This is my partner, Dar.” Kerry smiled. “Dar Roberts. Dar, this is Betsy Stonewright. She’s been a part of the staff here since before I was born.”

“Now, don’t you be revealing how old I am, Ms. Kerry.”

Betsy shook a finger at her, then extended a hand to Dar. “You take your horns off before you come in here, Ms. Dar?” She had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “’Cause I heard you had a nice pair of them.”

Dar chuckled, took her hand, and returned the strong grip.

“Yeah. I left them with the tail and the pitchfork back at the hotel.” She ruffled Kerry’s hair. “She’s got a little baby pair, too.”

Betsy snorted. “Honey, I’ve seen hers, and they ain’t little. I could tell you some stories about how this little angel used to turn this place upside down.”

Kerry blinked innocently. “Who, me?” She pointed at her own chest, then smiled. “I was just telling Dar about my artistic assault on Renoir.”

“Lordy, that was some day.” Betsy shook her head, then sobered as she took Kerry’s hand. “Kerry, I’m sorry about your daddy. I know you and him didn’t get on, but still and all…”

“Thanks.” Kerry accepted the words with quiet grace. “Well, listen, we don’t want to disrupt anything; I was just showing Dar around. Is Mary here?”

“She’ll be back shortly. Hold on now.” Betsy ducked into the large walk-in refrigerator on one side of the kitchen, then reappeared with two small cups. “Here you go.” She handed one to Kerry and offered the other to Dar. “Unless you done decided you don’t like chocolate any more.”

“Not hardly.” Kerry accepted the treat with a smile. “I still have dreams about your mousse cups, Betsy. Thank you.” She slipped her other arm around Dar and leaned against her. “Dar likes chocolate, too.”

“A little. Thanks.” Dar draped an arm over Kerry’s shoulders.

“Where to next?”

“Wanna see my nursery?” Kerry asked. “I think there might still be chuck-up stains somewhere.”

“Lead on.” Dar winked at Betsy. They left the kitchen, leaving the cook behind, shaking her head and chuckling.

“Lord.” Betsy heard the sound of the back door opening.

“That you, Mary?” She turned to see a short, well muffled woman with ginger white hair and gray eyes enter.

“Yes, ma’am, and who else would it be?” Mary took her coat 108 Melissa Good off. “Did I miss something?”

Betsy gave her a smug grin. “You most certainly did, woman.” She crossed her arms. “You just missed meeting that infamous Dar Roberts.”

“No!” Mary looked devastated. “You’re having me on.”

“I am not. She was just standing right here in this kitchen,”

Betsy said. “And, child, let me tell you, there was a lot to see. I always did say that Ms. Kerry had a good eye, and sister, oh, did she pick a nice one.”

Mary chuckled. “Only one in this whole damn family with a lick of sense and a passel of taste.”

THEY ENDED THEIR tour in the large foyer, standing at the foot of the large, curved stairway that led up to the bedrooms on the second floor. Dar had gotten the impression that the place was a beautiful, certainly impressive home with absolutely no sense of its occupants’ personalities.