Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [72]
“We aren’t a happy household and Rachel-Ann and I aren’t drinking cocktails,” Jilly pointed out.
“Details!” Dean dismissed them. “You’ll never guess what Coltrane did.”
“I don’t really give a damn,” Jilly said, no longer caring if she sounded rude. She had to get out of there, away from that assessing look in Coltrane’s green eyes.
“Of course you do, darling. Since he spent the day messing with your beloved La Casa. Our father’s chief of legal affairs has unexpected talents.”
Coltrane wasn’t saying a word, watching them all with distant tolerance.
“All right, what did he spend the day doing?” Jilly asked wearily, tired of the game playing.
“He can plumb.”
“Plumb? Plumb what?”
“Pipes, darling. Faucets and drains and all those nasty things. He’s an absolute marvel. He can even sweat.”
She jerked her head to look at Coltrane. He was lounging against the armrest of the sofa, not saying a word. “I imagine he can. I’m supposed to be impressed?” Jilly said.
“Sweat pipes, dear. It’s a rare talent.”
“It’s my blue-collar roots showing through,” Coltrane murmured. “Not all of us are California bluebloods.”
“California bluebloods?” Dean echoed. “What a concept. I wonder if there really is such a thing. We’re definitely children of privilege, I won’t deny that. Not that having Jackson as a father has been that much of a treat. I might honestly have preferred living in the Valley with an insurance salesman for a father and Donna Reed for a mother.”
“It wouldn’t have done any good, Dean,” Rachel-Ann said. “You still wouldn’t have ended up as Beaver Cleaver.”
“True. What was it Sophie Tucker said? ‘I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor and rich is better’? Too bad the money seems to have run out.” Dean leaned forward and poured himself another glass of wine. There was no sign of food on the elegantly set table, and Jilly realized that on top of being tired, irritable and uneasy, she was absolutely famished. She hadn’t felt like eating this morning when she took off, and she’d fed most of her fast-food lunch to a grateful Roofus. Not that this current get-together was giving her much of an appetite, but she needed to eat or she was going to pass out.
“As for me, I spent the day on the computer.”
“So what else is new?” Jilly muttered.
“Ah, but it’s been an especially informative few days. I know you think I spend all my time on the internet cruising gay chat rooms, but you’d be quite surprised at the things that can turn up if you know where to look,” he said with innocence.
The sudden tension from the far end of the couch was palpable. “What sort of things?” Coltrane asked, his voice deceptively easy.
Dean waggled his finger at him. “All in good time, Coltrane. All will be revealed. Have patience, counselor.”
“When are we going to eat?” Jilly demanded. “I’m finding your little games extremely tiresome.”
Dean pouted at her. “Don’t be harsh, darling. I so seldom get to enjoy myself. So do we have everyone accounted for? I spent the day on the computer, making great discoveries, Jilly wandered on the beach, probably brooding over some lost love. You do have lost loves, don’t you, darling? Coltrane occupied himself with the plumbing, and Rachel-Ann…What did you do, my pet? Lie in bed and watch The Weather Channel?”
“I spent the afternoon down at the pool house.”
Jilly shuddered. “In heaven’s name why?”
An endearingly wicked little smile curved Rachel-Ann’s lips. She looked younger than she had in years, clear-eyed and resilient. “The pool house isn’t the same thing as the pool, Jilly. I used to have a lot of fun in that pool house.”
“Meeting your blue-collar lovers,” Dean said maliciously. “Coltrane here has proclaimed his blue-collar roots—why don’t you take him down there and demonstrate how you spent your adolescence? If you tire of him maybe he could figure out what’s wrong with that skanky swimming pool. Can you imagine a house in Southern California without a working swimming pool?”
“Would you use it if it worked?” Rachel-Ann responded, unmoved by his