It was funny; Margot had always hea

It was funny; Margot had always heard people say they’d found their childhood homes or backyards to be shockingly small when they returned after a long absence. With her, the opposite was true. As she descended the wide, circular staircase, morning sunshine poured through the tall windows. Bathed in the pale golden light, the airy proportions of Rosewood were even grander than her memories of them. It was she who felt tiny and insignificant.
She wandered through the double parlor overwhelmed by nostalgia. Everything, the mahogany furniture, the gilt-framed mirrors, the oil paintings of Rosewood’s past studs, the broadloom rugs, even the knickknacks—the porcelain hunting dogs pointing at an unseen quarry, the silver-plated trophies transformed into table lamps—was in its place, just as she remembered. The dining room’s oval table, which when fully extended could seat sixteen, gleamed from a recent polishing, its shiny surface reflecting the crystal teardrops of the chandelier.
Jordan was in the kitchen, seated at the granite-topped island. Her hands were cupped around a mug as she stared pensively out the window over the kitchen sink. A plate of toast sat untouched by her elbow.
“Hey, did you sleep okay?” she asked, giving her a quick hug.
“Pretty well, considering. How about you?”
Margot sat down on the stool beside her. “About the same. Is Jade awake?”
“No. I stuck my head in her room as I was coming down. She’s fast asleep. The longer the better, in my opinion. We don’t have to be at the funeral parlor until twelve. What can I get you? Coffee, tea, something to eat?” she asked, already getting to her feet.
“You don’t have to make me anything.”
“I’d like to, really. It makes me feel better. I’m totally adrift without the kids and Richard and the usual Stevens breakfast chaos.”
“All right. Thanks. How about some coffee and toast?”
“Coming right up,” Jordan said with a determined smile as she lifted the coffeemaker’s carafe and filled it at the sink.
“When will Richard be here?”
“Any moment now. I’ve been jumping at every noise, hoping it’s them. Even little Roy’s impatient,” she said, patting her tummy.
“Roy? Is that the name you and Richard have chosen for the baby?”
“No,” Jordan said with a laugh. “I don’t even know if it’s a boy. But we’ve always picked silly nicknames for the kids throughout my pregnancies. This one,” she said, splaying her fingers across the wool of her sage-green cardigan, “is Roy Rogers. During my first trimester I had such an insatiable craving for Roy Rogers hamburgers that Richard joked we should invest in the company.”
Margot couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy at the closeness Jordan shared with Richard and the family they’d made together. She wondered whether someday she’d be lucky enough to have that, too. If she was ever blessed with a little girl, she’d tell her that she could grow up to be anything she wanted to be.
“You’re sure coffee and toast are all you can eat?” Jordan asked. “There’s a lot of food in the refrigerator. We shouldn’t let it go to waste.” As soon as she’d uttered the words, she shook her head. “I can’t believe I said that. It sounded so callous. I can’t get my mind around the fact that Dad and Nicole are gone, not just on a trip but forever. What are we going to do, Margot?”
“Get through it step by step. What else can we do?”
Jordan nodded. “Right. First step, breakfast.”
The kitchen was a direct contrast to the rest of the house, all efficient, twenty-first-century technology, Nicole having insisted on having it gutted and remodeled. Hence the gleaming, vaultlike Sub-Zero refrigerator, Viking range, and convection oven. The counters were granite, the cabinets were made of cherrywood, and the ceramic floor tiles came from Italy. Few restaurants had kitchens this fine or spacious. At the other end of the kitchen, near the back door and the mudroom/pantry, was a long pine table they’d used for lunch and casual suppers—not that Margot remembered meals with Nicole as ever being casual or relaxed.
As Margot watched Jordan fix her breakfast, it struck her how different they were. Her sister looked completely at ease in the space, while Margot hadn’t a clue how half of the kitchen’s gadgets worked, let alone what a convection oven actually did. Growing up, she’d preferred being outside, riding cross-country or hanging around the barns, grooming Suzy Q, Piper, and Killarney, and being near … No, she wasn’t going to think about Travis anymore, and she slammed the door on yet another memory.
The toaster dinged. Jordan extracted the toast and, placing it on a china plate, walked over to the fridge. “Butter?”
“You must be joking.”
“Come on, you’re as thin as you were as a teen!”
Margot shrugged. “I have to be. The camera is unforgiving.”
“Then, how about some honey or blackberry jam?”
“I’ll take honey, please.”
Jordan found a jar of honey in the door of the refrigerator. Turning back to Margot, she said, “Do you remember Edward Crandall, Dad and Nicole’s lawyer?” as she placed the toast and honey before her and handed her a knife and spoon. “Coffee’s coming right up.”
“Thanks. Edward Crandall?” Margot said as she scooped half a teaspoon of honey and spread it on the toast. “No, I can’t say I remember him.”
“He’s a big fox hunter. He’s been the Warburg Hunt’s field master for the past four years.”
“Ahh,” Margot intoned. “Enough said. And how many of Rosewood Farm’s horses does he have?”
“Dad sold him at least three, maybe more. Anyway, I left a message on his answering machine last night, telling him about Dad and Nicole and asking him to notify the insurance agency about the crash. I imagine he’ll be contacting us as soon as he arrives at his office.” She paused to fetch Margot a ceramic mug from the cupboard and pour a dark, fragrant stream of freshly brewed coffee into it. Then, sitting down on the stool beside her, she picked up her own mug of herbal tea. “I can’t help worrying about what will happen to Jade. I wonder who Dad and Nicole asked to be her guardian.”
“Would they have named you?” Margot asked, taking the mug from her.
Jordan shook her head. “It wasn’t as if Nicole was overly fond of me, either,” she said ruefully. “And I’m sure they’d have told me if they wanted me to be Jade’s guardian.”
“I guess you’ll find out when the wills are read. In the meantime, I’ll help out in any way I can. Damien’s not booking me for anything right now.”
“Thanks. My head starts spinning every time I start to think about Dad and Nicole and what will happen to Jade, to the house.” Her voice trailed off.
“Don’t forget the horses. I saw Ned at the barn last night. With Dad gone, he’ll be running the farm on his own. He’s none too happy about that. I promised him I’d talk to you and try to figure out a solution.”
“What about Travis?” she asked, frowning in bewilderment.
So Jordan hadn’t known about Dad and Travis’s falling out. “He’s gone. According to Ned, Dad fired him.”
“Dad fired Travis? No, he couldn’t have.” Jordan slumped in her stool. “This is terrible. I wish Rich—” She broke off at the sound of a car honking. “Oh, thank God, he’s here!” And she rushed out of the kitchen to greet her family.
Margot was eager to see how much Kate and Max had grown, but she remained in the kitchen so Jordan could have a private moment with her husband and children. She poured a second cup of coffee and was munching a last bite of toast when Jade, dressed in baggy pajamas and slippers, shuffled into the kitchen. She looked like a wreck, her face puffy from tears, her eyes rimmed with red, her dark blond hair a matted mass of snarls. She may have slept, but the rest hadn’t eased her suffering. Sympathy welled inside Margot.
“You’re sitting in my mom’s place.” Jade glared at her, eyes hard and accusatory.
The half-swallowed piece of toast scratched the inside of Margot’s suddenly constricted throat. Don’t react, she told herself.
“I was just finishing my breakfast.” Calmly she rose from the stool and cleared her coffee cup and plate.
While she loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, Jade climbed onto the stool next to the one Margot had vacated. “Where’s Jordan?”
“Outside.” She decided to leave the coffee in the pot. Richard might want a cup. “Richard and the kids have just arrived,” she added.
“Terrific.” Her sarcastic tone had Margot glancing over in surprise.
“What?” Jade demanded, with the sneer Margot was beginning to recognize. “Those kids are brats. They never do anything but whine and cry.”
“I like them a lot.”
Jade stiffened in her chair.
“Do you want some breakfast?”
The sneer morphed into a glower. “I’m not hungry.”
Margot suppressed a sigh. After drying her hands on the dish towel, she hung it on the oven door and then turned to face Jade. “Listen, I understand how you’re feeling right now. I know you’re hurting but you really need to eat, your body can’t—”
“I already told you, I’m not hungry. And you don’t know how I feel. You can’t possibly know how I feel—you don’t even know me. ‘You really need to eat,’” she mimicked. “What a joke, you standing there and pretending to care about me. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
Margot recoiled as though she’d been slapped in the face. “Jade—”
“No, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. You’re such a fake, you make me want to hurl!” She jumped down from the stool, sending it crashing to the floor as she ran from the kitchen, pounding up the back stairs.
Reeling from the open hostility, Margot gripped the counter. Leave it to a teenager to find the chink in one’s armor. Her half-sister’s weapon of choice was the cold, hard truth, and she’d driven it home ruthlessly. Although Margot tried to hide it, Jade must have sensed her lingering ambivalence and resentment toward her and Nicole.