Page 90 of Out of the Gold

Charles shouts, “Come in.”

I busy myself with finishing my task when the new intruder makes herself known. In a very big way. “Charles! So good to see you!”

The hemming tape slips from my fingers. It can’t be.

“Lindsay!”

Oh God. His sister is here. All the feelings of insecurity that plagued my childhood rush to the fore. She made my life a living hell. I figured I’d have to see her, but thought it would be back in Chicago, not here. In Italy. The most romantic place on earth just got ruined. I slam my design suitcase closed and grasp my overnight bag Charles had stashed behind it.

Aware of how I feel toward his sister, Charles licks his lips. In a forced upbeat tone, he introduces us. Again. “Lindsay, I believe you know our assistant costume designer, Melody Hunte. Melody, my sister Lindsay.”

I place the overnight bag at my feet and draw to my full height. Lindsay Wainwright, in the flesh, stands before me. My back goes straight and my chin rises. “Lindsay. What brings you here?”

For her part, Lindsay’s eyes travel down my body, but I refuse to be cowed. I’m no longer a child and she can’t do anything to demean me. “Melody. I’m surprised to see you.” She shakes her head, then looks at Charles. “I came to see my big brother, of course.”

Mimicking her response, I repeat, “Of course.” I look between the two of them. Both tall, dark-haired, and blue-eyed. Only she sports deep wrinkles around her mouth. At least I don’t have wrinkles. “Well, I should be going. I will see you back here tomorrow at six a.m., Chase.”

“Wait.” He grabs my arm.

I look at his hand, then at his sister and back up at him. “Looks like you have a big evening ahead. A yacht with your sister,” I whisper.

His eyes plead with me, but I’m not going to let Lindsay get her hooks back into me. Of all people, she can’t find out about our relationship. Not yet. I gentle my voice. “You’ll have a nice visit.” I fake a yawn. “Besides, I’m sort of tired. It’s been a long few days and I hardly got any sleep.”

My last words bring a grin to his face. “Yeah, I hear you on that score.” In a louder voice, he says, “I’m thinking of skipping the yacht to have dinner with the little runt.” He nods toward his sister.

“Hey.” Lindsay punches his arm. “Who are you calling a runt, Godzilla?”

He chuckles. While I’m happy to see he has a good relationship with his sister, I don’t need to witness it up close and personal. I pick up the bag again. “I’ll leave you to it.”

When I’m almost at the door, Charles says, “I’m thinking we should meet up here more like five a.m. tomorrow. Distractions slow us down.”

Despite his sister being here, his words make my core clench. “Okay. Have a good evening, Chase. Lindsay.” I escape the confines of the trailer and stumble back to my hotel.

“But why thehell did she have to come here?” I’m whining and I know it.

Sophia sighs. “Well, sheishis sister.” She takes another sip of her Cosmo. “So, tell me, how are things between you and Charles?”

Still fuming over Lindsay’s appearance, I grab a piece of bread from the breadbasket and dip it into olive oil. “Good. I mean, real good.” I take a bite and the deliciousness eases my annoyance somewhat. “He’s wonderful, you know?”

She laughs. “No, I don’t ‘know.’ Care to enlighten me?”

With a dreamy expression, I tell her about our weekend. Not all the details, of course, but she’s a smart girl.

The server brings us our meals as we look out to the water. A huge yacht lumbers by, to which I point with my fork. “That must be Mark’s friend’s yacht. You really should’ve gone, you know. Thomas is on it.”

She tastes her pomodoro sauce and moans. “And miss this amazing meal with my bestie?”

I steal a taste and agree. “Wow.” Digging into my own chicken dish—not broiled, thank you very much—I ask, “Aren’t you interested in Thomas anymore?”

“I am, but Mark’s a, a distraction. He’s everywhere I am, and it’s kinda weird. When I was sick, so was he, and yet he left me chicken soup every day outside my door.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Thomas saw me once, across the street from the drug store, and gave me a half-hearted wave.”

“I’m sorry, girl. I know you were into him. But Mark seems to be a nice guy.”

She busies herself with her pasta. “He’s a manwhore.”

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