The Moonglow Sisters - Lori Wilde Page 0,25
thinking she’d healed. Shelley shook off her gloom. Sighed. One good thing about being impetuous? It didn’t take her long to move on.
She left the boardwalk, returned to the sand, and jogged back to the Moonglow Inn. When she reached the beach in front of the B&B, she saw Madison perched on a ladder on the porch, struggling to hang Grammy’s wooden quilting frame by herself.
Grandpa Chapman, who’d died of a stroke long before any of them had been born, had rigged eyebolts to the ceiling so Grammy could sit outside and enjoy the ocean while she quilted.
Madison was in full makeup. She wore a straw sunhat and a sleeveless white tiered sundress that tied at the neck and had small yellow flowers embroidered along the bottom tier. Yellow espadrilles with wedge heels graced her small feet. She looked cute as the dickens, but the espadrilles were not ladder-climbing footwear. Her sister could fall and bust her ass in those shoes, but Shelley would be damned if she’d warn her.
She hesitated, reluctant to approach the house when it was just her and Madison without Gia around as a buffer.
“Can you help me?” Madison called out.
What could she do? Say no?
“Sure.” Shelley climbed the porch steps, softly chanting under her breath, Keep things light, keep things light, keep things light.
“Get the second stepladder from the pantry.” Madison was perched atop her ladder, four quilt frame chains clutched in her hands, the wooden frame dangling awkwardly beneath her. Madison didn’t smile, but she wasn’t frowning, either.
Um, was there a hidden meaning in that? The pantry was where everything had gone down with Raoul.
“Okay.” She should be safe with one-word sentences, right? Shelley fetched the stepladder and brought it back.
“Open it parallel to my ladder.”
On it, boss lady. Shelley placed the ladder underneath the second set of ceiling eyebolts and climbed atop it. Madison’s ladder was taller, and she towered over Shelley.
“Here.” Madison handed her two of the chains.
No please. No thank you. Just obey me.
Should she salute? Shelley accepted the chains, the wooden frame swinging between them. She stood on tiptoes to reach the eyebolts.
“Wait.”
Shelley paused for further instruction.
“Let’s do this together. On my count. One . . . two . . . three.”
Simultaneously, Madison and Shelley lifted the chains and attached the hooks to the eyebolts, the wooden frame dangling between their ladders.
Well, will you look at that? They’d worked together for a common goal and neither one of them had killed the other.
Yet.
“Good job,” Madison said.
Shelley just about fell off her ladder. “Thanks.”
They stared at each other over the wooden quilting frame and for a moment a truce seemed a sweet possibility.
“Where’s the quilt?” Shelley glanced around.
“I carried it over to the dry cleaners,” Madison said. “I want to get the quilting frame up before we go see Grammy. I promised Gia I’d do this, and I always keep my word.”
Was that a dig at her?
Shelley let it go and curled her bare toes around the edge of the ladder. Rubbed the end of her itchy nose with a knuckle. “Grammy says no one should own a quilt that has to be dry-cleaned.”
“I know, but since the quilt is unfinished, I was afraid to wash it.”
“But why are you so dressed up?”
“I left the house.” Madison’s tone turned condescending.
“And you can’t run to the dry cleaners in shorts and a T-shirt without war paint on?”
Madison assessed Shelley’s attire with a cool stare. Shelley wore shorts—baggy because she was fifteen pounds lighter than she’d been five years ago—and an even baggier blue T-shirt with a rip in the sleeve and a logo that said, regrettably, SORRY, NOT SORRY.
“I’m a public figure. I can’t go out looking . . .” Madison roved another judgmental look over Shelley. “Shabby.”
“Woo, a public figure.” Shelley shook her palms, jazz hands–style.
“My show is number one on the CIY Network.”
“How did that happen?”
“House Boss went viral following my disastrous wedding. I did a show on creative ways to repurpose your wedding dress.” Madison’s voice came out slivered with glass shards. “If you’d bothered to contact any of us and let us know if you were alive or dead, you’d know this.”
“Good for you.” Shelley hitched in her breath. “I mean that, Madison. I’m happy things turned out so well.”
Madison did a diva head toss. “Yes, I took lemons and made lemonade.”
“You’re welcome,” Shelley said.
“Excuse me?”
“If I hadn’t kissed Raoul, you wouldn’t be leading the life you have now. So yeah, you’re welcome.”
Madison’s face turned to slate, and