gaze strayed to the small bookcase the phone was perched on and for the first time she noted the framed photo that sat on the first shelf. Jordan was in her cap and gown, and Eva Ware stood close, her arm around Jordan. Both smiled into the camera.
A little band of pain tightened around Maddie’s heart. It was immature and not fair to Jordan to be jealous of the fact that Eva hadn’t been at her college graduation, nor had she witnessed all of the other milestones in Maddie’s life. Her father had been present, she reminded herself. And Mike Farrell had missed all of Jordan’s big events.
Maddie swallowed hard as she studied Eva’s face and noted the braid that fell over one of her shoulders. She fingered her own. It was hard even now to really get her mind around the fact that Eva Ware was her mother. In her own thoughts and even when talking to Jase about her, she was still referring to her as Eva Ware.
Would she ever get used to the idea? She set the photo carefully back on the shelf. Why? Why had her father and Eva decided to separate? Why had they each cut one daughter out of their lives? She was determined to find an answer to that question before she left New York. Maybe she would discover at least a partial answer as she came to know Eva better.
The second shelf of the small bookcase was filled with paperback books. Curious, she ran her fingers along the spines. Her lips curved when she realized that Jordan lined her paperbacks up alphabetically according to the last name of the author.
Didn’t that just figure?
But what really surprised her was that she had nearly half the same books in the small bookcase in her bedroom at the ranch—starting with the Brontës and Jane Austen. Then there were more modern writers—Linda Howard, Jayne Ann Krentz, Karen Robards, J.D. Robb, Nora Roberts and Robert B. Parker. Maddie’s smile widened as she realized Jordan obviously shared her own weakness for romantic suspense and mysteries.
Then she glanced at the bottom shelf and simply stared. The books there were alphabetized too, but they were all westerns—Zane Grey, Louis L’Amour, Luke Short, Larry McMurtry. She recognized the authors because they were her father’s favorites. There were two copies of Lonesome Dove—one that was falling apart and another that seemed to be brand new. How many times had she teased her father about rereading that novel? It appeared that her sister might have the same addiction.
Could a taste in reading run in a family? And what else might she and Jordan have in common? Certainly not their taste in clothes. Striding toward the full-length mirror on the open closet door, Maddie studied the outfit she’d selected. She’d searched high and low for a plain pair of slacks and a blazer—but Jordan didn’t seem to believe in them. Her twin favored clothes that were either a little too frilly or fashion-forward for Maddie’s taste. Her own wardrobe consisted almost entirely of jeans or slacks and jackets and T-shirts.
Simple, flexible—and you seldom had to worry about color coordination.
She’d finally decided on a suit she’d initially been drawn to because of the color—a pale blue that reminded her of a summer sky in Santa Fe. The skirt had a flouncy, fluted ruffle along its hem. Turning in a half circle, she watched it flare out. The jacket had feminine bell-shaped sleeves. It was certainly not something she could wear at the ranch, but it was growing on her.
She dropped her gaze to her bare feet. What she needed now was shoes. She sent a worried glance at the rows upon rows of them that took up a wall in Jordan’s closet. So many choices, so little time. The shower in the bathroom had stopped running five minutes ago. Since then, she figured Jase had probably shaved and now was dressing.
And she doubted he was stumped by shoe selection. The problem with Jordan’s was they all looked to be ankle-breakers. Still, there was a dark blue pair with a silver buckle that her eye kept returning to. Moving into the closet, she ran her finger over the buckle. But they’d never been worn. She didn’t feel right about wearing a pair of shoes that Jordan never had.
Which was one of the reasons she needed to talk to her sister. Striding back to the phone, she once more punched in the number of the ranch. To her surprise, it rang. Then she listened to her own voice telling her to leave a message.
When the beep sounded, she said, “Jordan, this is Maddie. Pick up if you can. Otherwise call me back ASAP.”
A glance at her watch told her it was nine-thirty. “I’m running a little late, but you should be able to reach me at Eva Ware Designs a little after ten. Jase is coming with me.”
She’d lost some time trying to talk him out of his plan to become her constant companion, but he’d remained firm. Until they had a clearer idea of what was going on, he was going to stick to her like glue. And he hadn’t missed his chance to tell her that two heads were better than one. There was nothing like having your own words come back to bite you.
“You didn’t mention in his file that he was mule-headed. Anyway, it’s a long story, and there’s something else I need to tell you.” There was no way she was going to mention what they’d discovered about the investigation into Eva’s death on an answering machine.
“So call me.” She was about to hang up when she remembered. “One other thing. There’s a pair of shoes in your closet that doesn’t look as if it’s ever been worn. Hope you don’t mind if I break them in. Bye.”
She stared at the handset for a minute after she’d replaced it. She hadn’t exactly asked permission. But those blue shoes were definitely calling her name.
Striding to the closet, she plucked them off the shelf, stepped into them, and winced. Was this what Cinderella’s stepsisters had felt like when they’d tried on the glass slipper?
But they were the right size. She’d checked that out. The tight fit had to be due to the fact that she was used to wearing boots. Very comfortable, worn-in boots. She took an experimental step out of the closet and had to slam a hand into the door frame to keep her balance. Maddie shifted her gaze to the mirror. “This can’t be that hard. You learned to ride a horse, rope a cow and shoot a gun.”
She took one step and teetered. This time she didn’t reach for the wall. “You can learn to walk in these. Millions of other women have. How hard can it be?”
Turning away from her reflection, Maddie started for the foot of the bed, stumbled, and nearly went down.
“About as hard as learning to walk on stilts,” she muttered. Then she focused on her destination. It was less than ten feet away. Concentrating hard, she raised her arms for balance the way a tightrope walker would and put one foot gingerly in front of the other. By the time she reached the bed, she could lower her arms.
And breathe.
So far, so good. She took another breath and started toward the dresser on the other side of Jordan’s bed. She raised her arms again, but by the time she was halfway there, she no longer felt the need to use them for balance. Thank heavens the learning curve for navigating around in the shoes was going to be short.
On the surface of Jordan’s dresser lay a silver-plated brush and comb, a small box of hairpins and a jewelry box. Raising her eyes, Maddie regarded her image in the mirror and frowned. The hair was definitely wrong for the outfit.
In her mind’s eye she pictured Jordan’s sophisticated, layered cut. Much better. There had to be something she could do. Quickly, she unraveled the braid and ran her fingers through it. Then using the hairbrush, she pulled it smoothly back from her face into a ponytail. Finally, she twisted the ponytail into a bun and secured it to the back of her head with pins.
