Page 65 of Cashmere Ruin

It’s like a queen snapping her fingers: one second, the twins are keeping their distance, and the next they’re on me—onus.Trying to yank my baby out of my arms like it’s a toy.

“Stop!” I yelp, shielding her with both hands. “You’ll?—”

“WAHH!” As if on cue, May starts screaming bloody murder. She’s always such a quiet kid, so it stuns me to hear her like this: distraught to the point of tears.

“Oops.” Anne smirks, poking her on the cheek. “Guess itisreal.”

That smirk.I’ve been away for so long, I almost forgot what it looked like—Anna’s innate cruelty.

Or maybe it’s not innate. Maybe it’s exactly the kind of virtue her mother wanted her to learn.

“Please, just—don’t touch her. She doesn’t like it.”

“Oh my.”

“Did we do something wrong?”

“Sosorry, April.”

“Here,” Anne cuts through the twins’ apologies—if they can even be called that. “I’ll make it up to you. How about I take your bag?”

“Actually, it’s fine—ah!”

The instant Anne gets ahold of the strap, she yanks with all her might. My bag breaks open, spilling pens and baby supplies all over the floor.

And sketches. Lots and lots of sketches.

“Give those back!” I yell at the twins, who are now running around the room throwing my sketchbook’s pages in the air. “I need them for work!”

“Are you okay, April? You sound tense,” Anne croons. “It’s not a big deal, right? They’re just drawings.”

“Indeed,” Nora comments with a self-satisfied smile. “I dare say, you may be overreacting a bit.”

Overreacting?I’m barely reacting. In fact, I’m using up all my self-controlnotto react. “It’s work product,” I lie. “I can’t share it.”

It’s not a complete lie, though. Those are my sketches for the contest. Technically, it’smywork product—no NDAs signed whatsoever—but it still makes me uncomfortable to see it in my half-sisters’ hands. To see anything of value in their hands, especially if it’s of value to me.

Another reason I’m glad for this swaddle. If they’d had their way, that would be my baby right now, being tossed from one set of arms to another. I can’t even bring myself to think about it.

I gather up as many papers as I can and stuff them hurriedly in my bag. “If there’s nothing else?—”

“Nonsense!” Nora tuts. “You’re staying for tea, aren’t you?”

I glance in Dominic’s direction. “I am?”

Dominic looks between her and me. As always, it’s an easy choice:Whatever the missus wants.“Of course. Clarissa, if you’d be so kind.”

A maid appears out of nowhere, bows, then hurries out the room again. I stash my bag in a corner and spend the next five minutes soothing my crying baby, taking deep breaths that are for me as much as they are for her. I keep doing that right up until the tea cart comes in.

This is going to be a long afternoon.

22

APRIL

“Are you still working at that quaint little shop?”

“Did you get a C-section?”

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