Page 61 of Just Trouble

I watch the colour drain out of Daphne’s face.

And a little bit too late, I realize what they’re thinking.

Funny that in all my imaginings of what might happen when we got to Empire, this assumption didn’t even cross my mind.

I can work with it, though.

In fact, it just might be the solution we need.

15

DAPHNE

It’s almost nine when Sylvia arrives. We’re back at the restaurant after dinner when she parks out front. She has an older Subaru, its red paint faded, and it’s loaded to the roof. She gives a cheerful wave when she gets out and Merrie bursts out of the restaurant to greet her.

The thing is that Sylvia’s not alone. There’s another woman in the front passenger seat, one with her head bowed over her phone so that her hair hides her features. She looks up when the two women embrace and I catch my breath.

Not a woman. A girl.

And a Cavendish.

It’s obvious with one glance. Her thickly lashed eyes are blue and heavily lined with black. Her skin is fair and her long hair is almost black where it isn’t tinted vivid purple. She gets out of the car and tosses her hair over her shoulder, revealing that she has the tall lanky build of all the Cavendish clan. She’s dressed completely in black with attitude to spare. She surveys me, then Luke, who has apparently been struck dumb. And the fire of rebellion lights in her eyes in a way that is painfully familiar.

Sylvia notices the confrontation, or maybe the frigid chill, and smiles tightly as she steps forward. “This is my daughter,Sierra,” she says, sounding as if she’s deliberately keeping her tone level.

“I didn’t realize you had a daughter,” I say in the yawning silence that follows. “Nice to meet you, Sierra.”

“Whatever,” she replies, holding up her phone with a grimace. “Is there a decent signal anywhere near here or have we really driven off the edge of the earth?”

“Sierra has never been to Empire before,” Sylvia says, giving Luke a look.

His mouth is open. His brow furrows like thunder gathering and he pushes a hand through his hair. I’ve never seen him at a loss for words and I know he’s come to the same conclusion as me.

“What the actual—” he begins, then he glowers at Sierra and falls silent.

Her eyes narrow and she smirks at him, exuding disdain the way that only teenagers can. “I know the word,” she informs him, bracing one hand on her hip. “And I won’t need my smelling salts if you say it out loud. In fact, I can explain it to you if you need help, old man.”

I look between them, unable to deny the resemblance, and brace myself for Luke’s reply.

It may leave a crater in Queen Street, judging by his expression.

I understand suddenly why people stand and watch accidents happen. I should leave. I should look away. I should do something to avert whatever is going to happen next.

But instead I stand there and watch, unable to even blink.

16

LUKE

Ican’t believe it.

Icannotbelieve it.

Sylvia has a daughter, a teenage daughter, a daughter who is clearly a Cavendish. That one night had greater repercussions than I’d realized. The jug of ice water in my lap makes a lot more sense now, but not sixteen years of silence.

Merrie is making introductions like we’re at a bloody cocktail party, Daph is watching me warily, but I don’t care.

“How old are you?” I ask the girl, who is startled for only a beat.

---