twin?
Nick turned on the TV, and Elaina let out the breath she’d been holding. Hopefully, she and Lexie would get through this evening painlessly, watching cable for a while, then retreating to unpack and get a muchneeded night’s rest.
The following morning Elaina awakened feeling far from refreshed. She squinted at the clock and reached for her robe. They day seemed a little gray, but she supposed it matched her mood.
Oklahoma. Grant hadn’t liked living here, so what made her think four weeks in the Sooner State was going to cure Lexie’s depression?
Concerned about her daughter, she belted her robe and slipped into the hall. Opening the other guest-room door, she stepped inside, then stood near the bed.
Lexie slept in a tangle of blankets, her short black hair strewn across her face. She had Grant’s hair, rain straight, with a glossy sheen. Elaina’s unruly mane tended to curl far too much. If she didn’t style it with a blow dryer, each rebellious strand took on a mind of its own.
Lexie stirred, and Elaina sighed. Should she wake the young girl or let her sleep?
She touched her daughter’s cheek. She missed the closeness they’d once shared, the laughter that used to fill their home.
Three teenage boys had destroyed her family. They’d wanted Grant’s car badly enough to kill him for it, to shoot him in the chest and leave him bleeding on the side of the freeway.
She took a deep breath, but the image wouldn’t go away. Her husband shivering and helpless, a bullet lodged much too close to his heart. And what about Nick? She would never forget how he looked when a policeman brought him back to the condo that night. Her husband was dead, and his twin had blood on his sleeve, a tremor in his voice, a vacant stare in his dark eyes.
“Mom?”
Elaina’s heart bumped against her breast, jarring her from the memory. “Hi, sweetheart.“
Lexie adjusted the covers. “What time is it?” “Seven.“
“Are we going somewhere with Uncle Nick?”
She sat on the edge of the bed. “Not that I know of. He’s probably working today.” Which meant he would still be close by. His workshop was located behind the house.
“Then can I go back to sleep?”
Elaina considered her daughter’s question. This was supposed to be a vacation, four weeks away from the pattern of their lives. There was no dreaded middle school for Lexie to tackle, no unhappy morning routine to adhere to. So if Lexie wanted to stay in bed, what was the harm? She was probably overtired, her body still trying to adjust to the time change.
“I’ll wake you up later, okay?“
“Okay.”
Lexie closed her eyes, big brown eyes that nearly swallowed her entire face. She was, Elaina thought, a petite and pretty tomboy, caught in the battle of puberty. An unwelcome battle, considering Lexie’s determination to defy her gender.
Elaina went back to her own room, choosing to wear jeans, a washable-silk T-shirt and a pair of lace-up boots. She styled her hair in a classic chignon, a look she had become accustomed to, even with casual clothes.
Ready for a cup of coffee, she headed for the kitchen, preparing to familiarize herself with someone else’s home. But when she got there, she came eye-to-eye with Nick.
He leaned against the counter, his raven hair combed away from his face, a well-worn denim shirt tucked into a pair of equally faded jeans. She had to tell herself to breathe, to accept his presence without losing her composure.
It was his hair, she realized, that unsettled her most. Nick had always kept it long, well past his shoulders. Yet the morning after Grant had died, he’d cut it.
But why? So he would look even more like his brother?
Grant had worn his hair in a shorter style because he was trying to present a non-Indian image. He’d wanted people to see him as the up-and-coming executive that he was. And stereotypes, he’d said, referring to his Comanche heritage, got in the way.
“Good morning,” Nick drawled in a slow, husky voice. “Did you sleep all right?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Unlike Grant, he was heavily involved in his culture, or that was the impression she got. He sported silver jewelry, a wide band on one wrist, a detailed watch and another wide bracelet on the other. His belt was adorned with sterling accents and an engraved buckle.
No one would mistake Nick for being anything other than Indian, and his denim-and-silver style intensified that image. Except for the hair. The slicked-back, GQ look belonged to Grant.
“Where’s Lexie?” he asked.
“Still asleep.“
“Oh.” He frowned. “I was wondering what everyone wanted to do about breakfast.”
“I’d rather wait for Lexie, but I’m not going to wake her for a while. So if you want to eat now, go ahead.”
“No. I can wait.”
She noticed the coffeepot was percolating. “May I have a cup?“
“Sure. It’s pretty strong, though.“
“I don’t mind.” Elaina wasn’t choosy about her coffee, and she’d lied about sleeping well. She’d tossed and turned most of the night. Of course, insomnia had become part of her widowed lifestyle.
She located a sturdy mug in the cupboard above her head, then turned back to him. “Do you have sugar?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He opened the cabinet near the stove and handed her a pink-and-white box.
She added the sweetener and found herself smiling in the process. This was typical of a bachelor, she supposed. A sugar bowl wouldn’t occur to a single man. And that’s what Nick had always been. Her bachelor brother-in-law.
She lifted the mug, curious if Nick had a significant other by now, an important girlfriend who kept him in line. Not likely, she thought. Hadn’t she stumbled upon a conversation between Grant and Nick on that very subject, just days before Grant’s murder?
“So, bro,” her husband had said, sinking into an Italian leather chair. “Have you met anyone special?”
Nick, looking a bit too rugged for the condo’s upscale interior, had kicked a pair of timeworn boots out in front of him. “Can’t say that I have.”
“I guess that means you’re still sampling the flavor of the month?”
“Yep. That’s me. Brunettes in May and redheads in June.” Nick had wagged his eyebrows, and they’d grinned at each other like a couple of naughty boys paging through their first girlie magazine. Elaina had wanted to throttle both of them, but instead she’d tossed a decorative pillow at Grant, warning him that she’d just entered the living room.
And even though Grant had charmed her into a playful,
