Cut to the Chase Read Free Page B

I paint.”
    â€œElizabeth napped longer than usual. We haven’t started yet,” Candace said.
    Clean chinos and a pressed blue button-down had replaced the baggy jeans and stained T-shirt. Candace had made an effort to return to her “take charge” persona, but the tight lines around her mouth and raised shoulders told another tale.
    Impatience gripped Hollis. She knew that Candace would feel better once she told what she thought had happened to her brother. Unspoken fears stripped away your confidence and your equanimity like piranhas moving in for a kill. If only they could bypass all the domesticity and get on with the story.
    â€œGrilled cheese sandwiches, carrot sticks, applesauce and tea okay?” Candace asked. She cut bread into strips and handed them to the child, who abandoned her spoon to scoop them up with pudgy fingers. “I’ve pretty much given up gourmet delights for the duration. I did try her with smoked salmon and capers, both of which she adored, and sushi, which she didn’t. Probably just as well. If the experts suggest pregnant women give up sushi, I’m sure children should avoid it too.” She was babbling.
    â€œAnything I don’t prepare for myself is wonderful.” Hollis munched a carrot stick and watched Elizabeth mash the bread on the tray before she dropped it to MacTee, who snatched it in midair.
    â€œThat should keep her entertained if not well-nourished,” Candace said. Candace’s cell phone shrilled as she motioned for Hollis to sit at the table.
    After she flipped it open and said hello, a range of emotions that Hollis identified as relief, anticipation and anger sped across Candace’s face. “No, this is not a good time to call. I don’t give to charities that phone.” She clicked the phone shut. “Damn. I hoped it would be Danson.”
    â€œI thought about Danson. I remember his intensity when he talked about lacrosse. You said he had other passions—what’s he doing that worries you so much?”
    Candace gave Elizabeth a bowl with raisins and chopped apricots along with more cutup bread before she spoke. “You’re right. Danson reacts with passion when he loves or hates something. Even as a little boy, he fixated on issues, particularly injustices, and always wanted to take corrective actions.” She grimaced. “You may think it’s weird that he’s an adult, and we’re so close. But there’s a reason—I feel responsible for him.”
    Responsible—an odd word to use to describe a relationship with a functioning adult man. “Why is that?”
    â€œI’m more like his mother than his sister. Poppy isn’t maternal. I’m glad she had us, but given her personality, it surprises me that she did. I’d say she’s never visualized herself in a traditional mother role. One small example—from the get-go, she insisted we call her Poppy. She’s never married, never lived with a man.”
    Speaking of men, there were no signs of one in Candace’s apartment, nor had Hollis ever heard Candace mention Elizabeth’s father. Maybe single parenting was genetic, or maybe, if that’s what your mother did, it was what you did. Interesting idea. Not that she could ask. That sort of information had to be volunteered.
    â€œPoppy always provided for us, by hook or by crook.” Candace frowned. “I’m not sure she always draws the line between the two and, however politely I inquire, she won’t discuss her financial affairs. Anyway, that’s beside the point. The day she and Danson came home from the hospital, she passed him to me.” She paused, widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows. “I was seven.”
    â€œYou cared for him by yourself?” Where had the social service agencies been?
    â€œNot exactly. To give you the background, Poppy was fifteen when I was born. My grandparents opposed her decision to