1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [46]
“And why would she do that?” Olivia asked bluntly.
“Why? Well, because…”
“What do you have in common, other than the fact that you own an art gallery and she’s an artist?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Will, not every woman is going to fall at your feet in adoration.”
“Jeez, you sound like Miranda! I happen to like Shirley Bliss.”
“And you tried to charm her the way you did with practically every woman you’ve met, whether you were married or not.” That last remark was meant to remind him that he hadn’t been a good husband. He’d cheated on his wife repeatedly, and Olivia didn’t care what his excuses were.
“You could’ve gone all day without saying that,” Will snapped. “Okay, so I wasn’t the world’s best husband. I admit it. But my ego just took a major hit, and if I want to whine a bit I should be able to.”
“Okay, fine. Be a little boy for a couple of minutes and then get over it.”
He stood and walked over to the cabinet. “How about a glass of wine? I could use a drink.”
“Sure. Shall we invite Miranda to join us?” The gallery was closed by now and she was probably waiting.
Will shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”
“We don’t get along all that well,” he muttered as he took down a bottle of red wine and three glasses. “She’s a know-it-all, not to mention contradictory.”
“Then why do you keep her on?” Olivia asked, finding his attitude amusing. Her brother’s relationship with his assistant fascinated her. They bickered and argued and she couldn’t remember a time that Will had anything good to say about Miranda. And yet he continued to employ her.
“I tried to fire her.”
“Tried?” Olivia raised one eyebrow.
“Yeah. I was completely overwhelmed without her. Two or three days later, I asked her to reconsider and return to work. I could’ve hired someone else, but that would mean training that person, which is a lot of time and trouble.”
“Miranda came back, though.”
He grinned. “She seemed almost glad of it, too. The truth is, I don’t really like her. Miranda’s far too bossy. God save me from bossy women.”
“Really?”
“Well, not all bossy women,” he returned, and broke into a lazy smile. “Not you, my darling sister.”
Olivia shook her head and started toward the door. “Before I ask Miranda to join us, are we in agreement that Mom and Ben can’t go back to the house?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll talk to them together about moving into an assisted-living complex as soon as possible,” she said, summing up their discussion.
Will exhaled loudly. “Together? Can’t you tell them and I’ll back you up?” He grinned. “I was hoping we could do this good-cop/bad-cop style and I’d be the good cop.”
“No, we’ll present a united front and go from there. Okay?”
“Okay, Madame Judge.”
Olivia ignored that and opened the door. “Miranda, would you like to have a glass of wine with us? We’re celebrating Shirley and Larry’s engagement.”
Will, who was pouring the wine, nearly toppled a glass. He caught it just in time to prevent it from tumbling onto the beige carpet.
Miranda came into the room. “You’re happy about Shirley’s news?” she pressed, looking at Will.
Olivia could see that the other woman wasn’t easily fooled.
“I can boast that I was the one who introduced them,” Will muttered as he passed around the glasses.
“It wasn’t going to work out for you, you know.”
“Why is it,” Will asked sharply, “that everyone enjoys telling me that? You think I haven’t figured it out by now? But if Larry hadn’t come into the picture, I believe she would’ve ended up with me.”
Miranda exchanged a glance with Olivia that said Will was delusional. Olivia recognized, even if her brother didn’t, that he’d never had a chance with Shirley, whether he chose to accept that or not.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Will, it isn’t that. Let’s enjoy our wine and drop the whole Shirley issue, shall we?” Olivia suggested.
It looked for a moment as if he wasn’t willing to let it go. “Fine. Whatever.”
Miranda raised the wineglass to her lips but not before Olivia noticed that she was humming a song from the 1960s. If memory served her right,