Page 57 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

His thousand-watt smile was nearly contagious. “We’re family.”

Cissy turned her gaze back on Cherise’s near-desperate face, a face that was aging despite what Cissy guessed was the latest in plastic surgery. “You know, you were right when you said this was awkward and you thought maybe we shouldn’t discuss it now.”

“But we have to.”

“I don’t think so.” The more she thought about it, the less she liked it. “And no, I don’t think we’re going to have lunch or dinner. I’m not comfortable discussing any of it. Not now, and probably not at any other time.”

Dumbfounded, Cherise took hold of her arm. “Cissy, please, be reasonable. We both know things aren’t right. They haven’t been in a long, long while. I thought that you were different and that you would—”

“Would what? Write you a check? For how much? Ten thousand? Fifty? A hundred? Or maybe a million?” Her voice was rising at the audacity of the woman and her supposedly God-fearing husband. “Gran was just buried today, and here you are at the gathering after her funeral and you’re already bringing up the will and money and picking at Gran’s bones!”

“Oh, Cissy, no—”

“And you know why you’re doing it? Because you think you can steamroll right over me, and I’m too young to stand up to you and to you,” she said, turning her furious eyes on the reverend. “Well, you were both wrong.”

Cherise’s hand flew to her mouth, and Heather, who had been walking by, stopped in her tracks. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Just peachy,” Cissy muttered.

“You’re sure?” Heather asked, her smooth brow knitting.

“We’re fine,” Cherise’s husband said tightly, then, “Thanks for asking, Heather.”

Cissy’s gaze swung between them. “Do you know each other?”

Heather looked like the quintessential “California girl” with her blue eyes, deep tan, and blond hair streaked platinum, not an ounce of fat daring to show on her toned body. She and Cissy had met at USC, and now Heather taught third grade at a private elementary school in the Bay Area.

“Didn’t you know?” Heather asked, surprised. “I belong to the Holy Trinity of God Church. It’s just a few blocks from my apartment.”

“In Sausalito?” Cissy said, putting two and two together. She knew that Heather lived on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge, but she didn’t have any idea that she was one of the Reverend Donald’s flock.

“I thought I’d mentioned it.”

“I think I would have remembered,” Cissy said and told herself it wasn’t a big deal. So what? The church had hundreds of parishioners, but Heather? One more odd connection.

“Heather doesn’t just belong to the church,” Reverend Donald said as he rained one of his charismatic smiles on Cissy’s college friend. “She’s being modest. She works with the church secretary, helps with the computers, makes sure there are no broken links in the prayer chain.”

“Is that right?” Cissy said, trying to think what she did know about Heather since they’d graduated from college. Other than hearing that she’d broken up with her long-time boyfriend, taught school, and liked green apple martinis, it wasn’t much. They hadn’t kept in close touch. Hadn’t Heather been involved in drugs during their four years at USC? Hadn’t there been ecstasy and cocaine use? But that had been years ago, and then there was something about Campus Crusade. Come to think of it, Cissy had known that Heather usually wore a gold cross on a chain around her neck, but she’d never been vocal about her religious views.

“Heather’s a big help to us.” Cherise nodded, her smile a bit less enthusiastic than her husband’s.

“So,” Heather said brightly, “are we all okay now?”

Before Cissy could respond, she heard a noise she recognized. Over the hum of the surrounding conversation, she heard B.J.’s distant voice. “Mom-mee! Get up! I get up now! Mom-mee!”

Thank God!

“Oh, gotta run,” she said without looking anyone directly in the eye. “My little guy’s awake.” Before Cherise or Reverend Donald or Heather could stop her, she bolted up the stairs. She was not going to lunch or dinner with her father’s cousin or her husband. Not ever. If Heather wanted to cozy up to them, fine. But as far as Cissy was concerned, if she never saw either Cherise or her husband again, it would be just fine. “Vultures,” she muttered softly, then, at the top of the stairs, took a deep breath, cleared her head, and shoved all her negative thoughts aside.

She pushed open the door of B.J.’s room. He was standing in his crib and pounding on the top rail. “Mom-mee!” he said, grinning widely at the sight of her.

“Hey, Beej!” Her bad mood disappeared in an instant. “How’s my guy?” Pulling him out of the crib, she hugged him so fiercely, he giggled. “Not a Grumpy Gus today?”

“Not grumpy!”

“Good.”

“Dad-dee downstairs?”

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