gestured for Maddy to follow his sister into the kitchen.
Half-chopped vegetables were lined up on the kitchen table on a large cutting board, while pots steamed away on the stovetop. Charlotte stood at the counter, frowning at a tray holding three ceramic ramekins.
“The soufflés sank a little,” she said critically. “I’m really not happy with this new oven.”
He inspected the ramekins. “I’m sure they’ll taste exactly the same,” he said. His sister prided herself on her cooking and he knew she would give herself a hard time for any small failure.
Charlotte rolled her eyes.
“No, they won’t. Being light and fluffy is the whole point of a soufflé. Don’t you think, Maddy?”
Charlotte turned to her guest, her interested gaze once again scanning Maddy from head to toe. The first opportunity he got, he was going to tell his sister to cut it out. Maddy was not his girlfriend, and she wasn’t there to be cross-examined by his nearest and dearest. Far from it.
“I suppose. Although, to be honest, I’m the last person you should ask about food. As Max will tell you, I can’t cook worth a damn,” Maddy said.
“Really? Max isn’t exactly great, either. Someone will have to learn to cook,” Charlotte said meaningfully.
Maddy looked confused for a beat, then her gaze darted to him questioningly.
“Maddy is only staying with me for a week or two,” he said.
“Uh-huh.” Charlotte looked as though she didn’t believe him.
“She has her career to get back to as prima ballerina with the Sydney Dance Company,” he clarified.
“Oh.” This time Charlotte looked convinced, if disappointed. He could almost see her thoughts and suppositions realigning themselves. God knew what she was going to ask next. He shot Maddy an apologetic look and she smiled faintly.
“So, how are you finding Max’s new apartment, Maddy?”
“Um, good. I mean, I didn’t see his old one, so I can’t compare, obviously. But it’s very nice. Lots of space,” Maddy said.
“I wouldn’t know,” Charlotte said, nudging Max in the ribs with her elbow. “My brother hasn’t invited me yet. How long has it been now, Max?”
“A few weeks,” he said repressively.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow and moved to the cutting board.
“Hmmm. Did you look at those course brochures I gave you the other night?” she asked as she started slicing an onion.
Max frowned for a moment, trying to work out what she was referring to. Then he remembered her thrusting them into his hands as he was on his way out the door with the camp bed. Brochures for degrees in psychology, teaching and occupational therapy, if he remembered correctly. He’d left them all behind in the taxi.
“Haven’t had a chance,” he said.
Charlotte had been trying to push him into a new career for a while now. He would have to tell her about his artistic ambitions soon, even if only to get her off his back.
“Maybe you can convince him to start thinking about the future, Maddy. I know he deserves a break after all those years of caring for Père, but he can’t float around forever, wasting his life.”
He felt Maddy bristle beside him and had a sudden premonition that things were about to go horribly wrong.
“I’d hardly call Max’s art floating around or wasting his life,” Maddy said stiffly. “He’s incredibly talented and the art world is going to fall on its ass in surprise when he has his first show.”
Charlotte’s knife froze above an onion.
“Max’s art? Sorry?”
Charlotte’s gaze shifted between him and Maddy then back again.
Damn. He should have seen this coming the moment his sister issued her invitation. Maddy had been modeling for him, after all. It was only natural that she’d mention it.
“I’m working on some pieces. Sculpture,” he explained. “Larger scale, like that figure I did last year.”
“And you’re going to have a show?” Charlotte asked. The knife still hovered, the point wavering a little in her hand.
“Yes. Hopefully. If I can get some interest,” he said.
“I see.” Charlotte sent the knife down into the onion with a thunk.
She was hurt. She had every right to be. They were close, she shared all aspects of her life with him. And he’d deliberately shut her out of his because he’d been cautious about openly acknowledging his ambitions.
“I was going to tell you. I just wanted to have more to show you before I did,” he said.
Maddy was looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize…”
“It’s not your fault,” Charlotte said, her voice brittle.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…I guess I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off.”
It was the truth, but he could see honesty wasn’t going to get him anywhere with Charlotte tonight.
She crossed to the stove and began shoveling chopped vegetables into a pot.
“I understand,” she said coolly.
But she didn’t, and he knew he had some heavy spadework ahead to soothe her ruffled feathers.
Dinner was tense. Charlotte apologized too many times for the soufflés, then made stiff, overly polite conversation with Maddy throughout the main course.
She resented Maddy for knowing more about his life than she did, he guessed. The age-old instinct to shoot the messenger. He was doing his best to ease the tension when a high-pitched scream echoed through the apartment.
“Eloise,” Charlotte said, standing abruptly. “She’s been having nightmares lately.”
She’d barely taken two steps before Eloise hurtled into the room, her mouth open in another earsplitting scream. Her dark hair, cut in a shorter version of Charlotte’s bob, was tangled and matted around her sweaty, tear-streaked face. Her nightgown was damp around her middle, clinging to her small frame. He guessed she’d wet the bed.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Mama is here,” Charlotte soothed in French, getting down on her knees to scoop Eloise into her arms.
Eloise was so distressed she fought against her mother’s embrace, her body bowing backward, her arms and legs thrashing around.
His three-year-old niece had been diagnosed with autism eighteen months ago, and Charlotte fought a constant battle to connect with her youngest child. Early intervention, expensive private therapies and the
