He shrugged. “See you later.”
He put the two suitcases Stasia had brought in the living room and left.
“He’s so nice,” Odalie said. “I wish we could say that about his boss,” she added with a venomous smile.
“Stop that,” Stasia teased.
“Sorry.” She studied her sister-in-law. “You’re not even showing yet,” she teased.
“You should see me try to fasten a skirt or a pair of pants” came the reply, and Stasia pulled up her sweater to show that her pants had the top button undone.
“Well, you’re showing a little,” she conceded. “Come on in. Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes, at the ranch, but I’d love coffee.”
“I have decaf—it’s okay,” Odalie laughed when she noted the other woman’s expression.
“Sorry. I’m still not used to things I shouldn’t have,” Stasia said.
“Dad says Mom drank a pot a day until she was pregnant with Tanner, and that the sudden stop almost killed her. They both still laugh about it—while they’re chugging cappuccino.”
Stasia laughed. “I love being around your family. I’m sort of short on relatives.”
Odalie hugged her. “You have all of us. We’re your family now.”
Stasia fought tears.
“You stop that, or I’ll start bawling, too.” She shook her head as she made coffee. “Imagine, being stranded on Long Island all weekend with a barracuda, and all because I adore you and I’d do anything for you,” she added with a meaningful glare.
“Tony’s sweet.”
“Like sauerkraut,” Odalie agreed.
“Women love him,” Stasia pointed out. “He’s handsome, he’s rich, he loves animals...”
“He kills people,” Odalie continued.
“No, he doesn’t,” Stasia replied, chuckling. “Well, there were some rumors about him in the past. But he certainly doesn’t do wet work now. He has the art gallery.”
“Wet work?” Odalie asked, all at sea.
“When you live with an ex-mercenary, it rubs off,” she confessed with a grin. “Wet work. Blood...?”
“Oh! Like in that book about ‘painting houses,’ that’s really about killing people,” Odalie replied and then bit her tongue, because she’d never meant to admit she wanted to know what Tony’s former lifestyle had really been like.
But Stasia didn’t say a word. She changed the subject to clothes instead.
“I’ve got this exquisite new dress,” Odalie said, showing it to her. “It’s a couture piece, but I fell in love with it, so there goes my allowance for the next three months.” She sighed as she studied the gorgeous hand-painted sheath dress with its pink and silver and purple glittery highlights.
“It really is lovely. It will suit you,” Stasia said. “I’ve got a new one, too, a black flare skirt with a glittery black-and-gold overlay and a draped bodice. Spent my allowance going forward on that, so I know what you mean!” she laughed. “Clothes are my weakness.”
“For at least one more month,” Odalie teased, nodding at her belly.
“Oh, they have couture for pregnant women, too” came the laughing reply. “I can still be at the forefront of fashion despite my lovely condition. Not that I love clothes more than your brother,” she had to add. She sighed. “Dreams come true, you know?”
“For some people,” Odalie agreed.
“You sing beautifully,” her companion replied solemnly. “And you will sing at the Met one day. I’ve never doubted that. But you have to get over this stage fright and do the audition!”