Page 16 of Conrad

Penelope laughed, and Tia grinned. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Tia pushed the other half of her muffin toward Penelope. “Please. The no-athletes rule?”

“One was enough for me.”

“Ted was hardly the example of a good boyfriend. So what he had other motives?—”

“That’s the thing, T. You lucked out with Edward, right? You knew him from childhood, knew he wasn’t trying to get anything from you?—”

“I think you’re safe with Conrad Kingston. He has his own money.”

“Pay attention. His contract expires this year. Dad is a part owner of the team. Don’t you think his contract will come up in conversation? He dates me and suddenly there are stakes. Broken heart equals broken future.”

“Only because Dad is desperate for you to find ‘the One.’” She finger quoted the words.

“I don’t need ‘the One.’” Penelope mimicked the gesture. “I have a job I love, and not everybody gets what Mom and Dad have.”

Oops.

Because Tia’s mouth tightened and she looked away, drew in a breath.

“Sorry.”

“No. It’s fine.” She turned back to Penelope. “Listen, Pep. I’ll always miss Edward, but . . . I need to let go. Keep moving forward.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing with the Pepper Foundation and EmPowerPlay?”

Tia went quiet. Sighed. “Maybe. Or maybe I need a change. Something different. Away.” She glanced at Penelope again. “A fresh start.”

Penelope took a sip of coffee, set it down. “Listening.”

“I talked with Declan Stone last night. He has an orphanage down in the Caribbean in need of a manager.”

“You’re going to move to the Caribbean to take care ofkids?”Oh.She didn’t mean it how it sounded, but—“What about the foundation? I mean?—”

“Maybe you could step up.”

The voice came from behind her, from the hallway that led to her parents’ wing, with her father’s private home office, her mother’s library, the master-bedroom suites and off-rooms.

She turned as her father walked into the room. Clean-shaven, still built even in his early sixties, he wore a pair of dress pants, a black pullover V-necked sweater, and carried a coffee mug. He came over, set it on the counter, and met her gaze. “I think it’s time, Pep.”

“Dad—”

He held up a hand, his gray eyes on hers. “Listen. It’s time to stop horsing around with this podcast gig and invest in the things that matter.” He glanced at her sister. “Tia’s done her service. And frankly, it’s your turn to do your part.”

She stared at him. “Dad. I’m not a philanthropist. I don’t want to change the world.”

“Of course you are. Why do you think you’ve been on this crusade to find a killer responsible for Edward’s death for the past three years?”

She stilled, glanced at Tia, back at her father. “Because no one else has?”

Tia’s mouth opened, closed, and she gave her father a hard look.

He sighed. “Pep. You need to stop the fantasy. Edward’s death was an accident. A terrible, cruel accident that we all grieved.” He put a hand on hers, warm, solid. “And I know you grieved just as much as Tia. He was, after all, your friend first.”

Her throat thickened even after her father let her hand go. “He was murdered,” she said softly, barely. “I know it.”

Silence. Tia looked at her coffee. Her father didn’t move his gaze from her.

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