looked too. Dorothy was speaking, but her voice didn’t carry, and from the expression on Adam’s face, he didn’t like what he was hearing.
“Let’s blow this scene,” Jordan whispered. “I’ve got a reservation at an inn in Linchworth. I wanted you to myself and I thought staying over would be better than battling rush-hour traffic back into the city.”
They’d made it nearly to the front door when Adam caught up with them. He grabbed Jordan by the arm and jerked her around to face him. “You can’t get away with this.”
The fury in his voice sent Maddie into action. Enough was enough. She gripped the arm holding Jordan. “Let my sister go.”
“What?” Adam sent her a startled look.
Maddie placed both hands on his chest and gave him one hard shove into the wall. “Just because you’re frustrated by the terms of your aunt’s will doesn’t mean you can manhandle my sister. Got that?”
Adam stared at her. “You shoved me.”
“I did.”
“Adam.” The cool tones of Dorothy Ware’s voice carried the length of the hallway.
“This isn’t the end of this,” Adam said as he pushed himself away from the wall and strode back to his mother.
Jordan waited until they’d collected their bags from the butler and run down the steps to the waiting limo. Then she whirled to face Maddie. “I’ve wanted to give Adam a good shove for years.” She pulled Maddie into a hard hug. “I guess I’ve been waiting for my superhero sister to do it for me.”
JORDAN LED the way into the suite she’d rented in the Linchworth Inn. She hadn’t said a word to Maddie during the five-minute ride in the limousine. In spite of the distracting and somewhat amusing altercation with Adam, Jordan knew her head was still spinning with the contents of her mother’s will. Maddie’s must have been too. She’d tried to think, to plan her strategy. But in business, the key to any successful strategy always depended on knowing your audience.
And she didn’t know her sister very well at all. Oh, she’d done as much research as she could—first cross-examining Mr. Fitzwalter and then checking out Maddie’s Web site. In Jordan’s opinion, the Web site needed a makeover, but the jewelry didn’t. Her sister had talent. Most of Maddie’s work was focused on Southwestern belt buckles, tie clips and pins. The designs were dramatic, the workmanship exquisite, using a lot of turquoise and intricately inlaid patterns. There’d also been a few examples of finer pieces—earrings and bracelets. Perhaps she could use her sister’s interest in jewelry design as a bargaining chip.
But she needed to know more. And she didn’t have a lot of time. The seventy-two-hour clock was ticking.
Leaning down, she opened the door of a small refrigerator and then glanced back at Maddie standing just inside the room, taking it in.
Jordan let her own gaze sweep the area. It was a small suite with two bedrooms. The sitting room had dormer windows with lace curtains and was furnished in antiques. Two chintz-covered love seats faced each other across a small coffee table with a marble top.
“I can offer you some wine. Mom and I always liked white. But I can order up a bottle of red or something else if you’d prefer.”
“White’s fine,” Maddie said.
Silence stretched as Jordan uncorked a bottle of chardonnay and filled two glasses. Stalling. That’s what she was doing. What in the world was the matter with her? She was hardly ever at a loss for words.
“This is a lovely room,” Maddie said.
Jordan glanced around again and felt her throat tighten a little. “Mom liked it. We used to stay here whenever we had to visit Uncle Carleton and company.” She would never stay here again with her mother. But she couldn’t let herself think about that right now. Not yet.
“You didn’t stay at Ware House?”
Jordan handed her a glass and waved her over to one of the love seats. “The atmosphere there has always been a bit frigid. And things have gotten worse since I got my MBA and started working at Eva Ware Designs. But it goes back further than that. I don’t think that Uncle Carleton and Mom ever saw eye to eye even when they were kids. The friction escalated when my grandfather died. Uncle Carleton is one of those old-fashioned men who believes that the oldest son should inherit everything outright. Thank heavens, my grandfather didn’t agree. When he died, he divided everything up between Mom and Uncle Carleton—even Ware House. She took her half of the stocks, bonds and cash and invested everything in her design business. She was able to move into the Madison Avenue store.”
“Smart decision,” Maddie said.
“I agree, but the other Wares didn’t.”
Maddie grinned suddenly.
“What?”
“What you called them—the other Wares. I’d already started thinking of them that way.”
Smart, Jordan thought. Her twin was perceptive. That could work in her favor. Tucking her feet underneath her, she leaned back. “As a sort of peace offering, Mom agreed to let Uncle Carleton, Aunt Dorothy and Adam live in Ware House. She got to use the place for business parties, and she agreed to attend any social gatherings that had to do with Ware Bank.”
Maddie sipped her wine. “You said the friction’s gotten worse since you went to work for Eva Ware Designs.”
“Because before that, Adam thought he had a clear shot at taking over the business one day. He’d been there for three years before I joined the company. He’s a brilliant designer. Mom was very aware of that. His parents were disappointed with him because he didn’t go into banking, so I think he feels he has to succeed. Aunt Dorothy certainly does. Plus, he has a temper.”
“I noticed. He may be a fine designer, but he doesn’t have your background in business.”
Jordan studied her for a moment. “How do you know that?”
“I looked you up on the Internet. A bachelor’s degree from the Wharton School, an MBA from Harvard. Very impressive.”
Slowly, Jordan smiled. “Touché. I visited your Web site. It needs some work, by the way. But the jewelry doesn’t. What I saw was beautiful.”
Setting her glass down, Jordan leaned closer and fingered one of the earrings Maddie was wearing. The silver had been configured into fragile lace surrounding a clear turquoise stone. “This is quite lovely. Mom was always looking for turquoise of this quality.”
“She should have come to New Mexico.”
Jordan met her sister’s eyes and saw a hint of pain that she totally understood. “She was in New Mexico when she gave birth to us. I badgered Fitzwalter until he showed me our birth certificates. We were born in Santa Fe.”
“She was at the ranch?”
“I don’t know about that, but she was definitely in Santa Fe.”
“She should have come back.”
“Yes,
