in his jaw and his palpable air of tension.
It was impossible not to think about the other times they had been together. At least it was impossible for her. Presumably, Hartley was too distraught to think about sex.
She was having second and third thoughts about her role this afternoon. “So what do I need to know?” she asked. “I don’t want to say anything I shouldn’t.”
Hartley shot her a sideways glance before spotting an empty spot down the street and parallel parking with ease. “Just follow my lead. My sister will be emotional. For several reasons. She doesn’t know why I’ve been gone.”
“Join the club,” Fiona muttered.
Hartley ignored her sarcasm. “Mazie’s husband is J.B. He’s been a friend of ours since we were kids. He and Mazie reconnected recently and fell in love. And to further confuse you, J.B. is my brother’s best friend.”
“Got it.”
“Jonathan, my twin, had serious brain surgery not too long ago, but he’s made a complete recovery. His wife is Lisette. She’s been working for Tarleton Shipping a long time.”
“And your mother? I haven’t heard you speak of her.” Fiona got out and smoothed her skirt with damp hands. Meeting strangers was not her forte. In this situation, the stakes were much higher than usual. Hartley got out as well and closed his door, resting his arms on the roof of the car as he stared at her. “My mother is not in the picture. The only people you’ll have to deal with today are my siblings and their spouses.”
If his words were meant to reassure her, they failed. Hartley’s air of mystery told her the Tarleton family had more than one skeleton in the closet. Why else would Hartley be so worried about seeing his brother and sister? It was beginning to dawn on Fiona that his brief though startling contact with her was not the only relationship he had abandoned.
They arrived at the funeral home early. Hartley wanted time to speak with his family before the receiving of friends began. When he took Fiona’s hand in his as they mounted the steps to the red-brick and white-columned building, she wasn’t sure he even noticed.
She tugged him to a halt before he opened the door, squeezing his fingers, trying to extend her support. “It’s going to be okay,” she said softly. “Every family goes through this. You’ll make it. You all will.”
His expression was grim. “Death is one thing. Handling the living is something else again.”
His odd words stayed with her for the next half hour, illuminating the awkward family reunion.
Mazie was the first person to spot her brother. She ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck, her face wet with tears. “I swear I shouldn’t forgive you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”
Fiona hung back as Hartley embraced his classically beautiful sister. Mazie’s skin was fairer than her brother’s. And though the family resemblance was strong, her eyes were more golden amber than brown. Her elegance made Fiona feel dowdy in comparison. Mazie wore emeralds that must have cost a fortune.
Hartley reached back and drew Fiona into the small circle. “Mazie, this is my friend, Fiona James. She was kind enough to be my date today.”
Fiona grimaced. “I told him no one needs an escort to a funeral, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Mazie smiled through her tears. “That sounds like Hartley. Wait a minute,” she said. “Fiona James the artist? My husband and I have a couple of your paintings. The Salt Marsh at Sunset. The Bridge at Twilight. I treasure them. You’re incredibly talented.”
“Thank you,” Fiona said. It still startled her to be recognized.
Mazie dried her face with a tissue. “Jonathan is just around the corner. You might as well get this meeting over with.”
Hartley’s gaze darkened. “Is he really going to be okay?”
“Right as rain,” Mazie said. “He didn’t even freak out when Lisette told him she had been keeping you in the loop. Apparently, staring death in the face mellows a man.”
Hartley curled an arm around Fiona’s waist. “Jonathan was misdiagnosed in the beginning, but fortunately, the mistake was caught in time.”
“How scary,” Fiona said.
Mazie nodded. “Terrifying. We thought we were going to lose him.”
They turned down a hallway and more or less ran into the third Tarleton sibling. Jonathan had clearly overheard the end of their conversation.
He lifted a shoulder, his smile laconic. “Apparently, I’m hard to kill.”
The two brothers sized each other up. The tension was painful. They were definitely identical twins. No hiding that. But even an outsider would have no problem telling them apart.
Olive skin. Dark brown eyes. Chestnut hair. Those were the commonalities. Hartley’s hair was longer...untamed...sun-bleached. And he had the look of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors. Jonathan, on the other hand, was GQ handsome. Sculpted jaw. Expensive haircut. Conservative suit.
Two stunningly handsome men in their prime.
Hartley kept an arm around Fiona’s waist. “Hello, Jonathan.”
Mazie made a huffing noise. “For God’s sake. Hug each other.”
The brothers ignored her. At last, Jonathan held out his hand. “Welcome home, Hartley.”
Even without being privy to all the details, Fiona knew this moment was epic. It was written in Jonathan Tarleton’s wary expression and in the rigid set of Hartley’s posture.
“Thank you,” Hartley said quietly. “I’m glad to be back, but not for this reason. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened.”
Mazie spoke up, her tears flowing again. “None of us were. Apparently, he died in his sleep. The housekeeper found him.”
“Hell,” Hartley said quietly. “I knew he wasn’t well, but I honestly thought he would go on forever.”
“So did we.” Jonathan glanced at his watch. “Would you like to see him?”
Fiona felt the shudder that racked Hartley’s body. “Yes,” he said gruffly.
Moments later, the four of them stood around the casket. Gerald Tarleton had been a large man. But in death, he looked old and frail. Fiona knew he had built a far-reaching shipping empire that would now pass on to his children. Again, she wondered about Mrs. Tarleton. Was she dead or alive?
Soon they were joined by J.B. Vaughan and Lisette, Jonathan’s wife. Mazie took care of the introductions. Her husband wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “No more crying, honey. You’ll give yourself a migraine.” He dabbed his wife’s cheeks with a handkerchief.
Fiona felt a fierce stab of envy. Would any man ever look at her with such naked devotion?
Her stomach curled with tension. Dozens of floral arrangements flanked the casket
