Triple treat Read Free Page A

their maximum effect.
    He was disconcerted by his slip. "I assumed you were much older, uh, that is, with you being a widow and all." Tyler nearly groaned aloud at his lack of finesse. At this particular moment, no one could accuse him of being a silver-tongued snake, an alternate description of him offered by Tremaine enemies and detractors.

    "There aie widows in their twenties,'' Carrie said bleakly, and the light went out of her eyes. "Not too many of us, but we do exist.''
    He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd told him she was nineteen or younger; he was half expecting it. But sad and unsmiling, she suddenly appeared older. "How old are you?" Tyler asked and immediately smote himself for the question. He well knew how touchy women could be about their ages, regardless of age!
    "We're twenty-six," Ben piped up. "Our birthday was April Fool's Day. Stupid day for a birthday, huh? You wouldn't believe the cornball jokes and gags that go with that one."
    "Yes, I would because it happens to be my birthday, too." Tyler stared from brother to sister with genuine surprise. They all shared the same birthday? "And you're twins?"
    "Actually, there are three of us," Carrie said. "Our sister—Alexa—and Ben and me. We're triplets." She waited for the double take that invariably accompanied that revelation.
    Tyler supplied it. "Triplets?" he repeated incredulously. One didn't run across triplet siblings every day. The situation seemed to require some sort of comment from him, but nothing clever or memorable came to mind. A rarity for him. Being silver-tongued, glib and flippant quips usually came quite naturally to him.
    "Our dad thought the doctor was playing an April Fool's Day joke on him when he said Mom had triplets," Ben said jocularly. "They'd been expecting twins, but Carrie here was a total surprise." Ben nudged her in the midriff with his elbow, his blue eyes teasing. "I used to say she was a total shock, but she took offense. She'd rather be surprising than shocking, although she's often both."
    Carrie rolled her eyes heavenward. "Ben's the funny one in the family."

    "Yeah, I can tell," Tyler said dryly. "His jokes are on a par with my brother's—and that's sub-par. Do you all live here together?"
    "No, Alexa and I have our own places, but we're over here a lot," said Ben. "Uh, do you still want all of us to come to your party, or is it limited strictly to people who live in the neighborhood full-time?"
    "Ben, for heaven's sakes!" admonished Carrie.
    "He came over to invite us to his neighborhood Memorial Day picnic tomorrow, Carrie," countered Ben, "and he mentioned the whole family, so I was just making sure—"
    "You're all invited, of course," Tyler cut in. It was disconcerting the way the two of them tended to conduct their own conversation around him, as if he was totally superfluous. Tyler Tremaine was accustomed to commanding center stage; being rendered superfluous was new to him.
    He was beginning to feel strangely frazzled. And it was so warm in there!
    Suddenly terribly restless, he decided that he had to leave at once. "It's getting late," he said, glancing at his watch while already backing out the door. "I've—"
    "Do you want to see Sleuth before you go?" Carrie asked politely.
    "That crazy cat!" exclaimed Ben. "Wait till you see his favorite hangout, Tyler!" He clasped his fingers around Tyler's forearm and gave an eager pull. "Come on."
    Tyler went reluctantly into the shabby, sparsely furnished living room. Through the decrepit window, he saw the scraggly hedge that separated his property from theirs. The size and proximity of his house blocked the sunlight, casting the living room into shadows.
    "There's Sleuth, on top of the breakfront," said Carrie, pointing. A fat, darkly striped cat, his left ear torn and raggedy, doubtless a souvenir from some past feline war, sat atop a heavy wooden piece in the corner of the room.

    "We call it his watchtower. He also sits on top of the cabinets in the