drawn and the windows closed despite the heat of the July afternoon.
Marianne put a few daisies into a bud vase because Vera liked that sort of touch on a tea tray. She was about to carry the tray upstairs when the swinging door to the kitchen banged open. Andrew stomped inside, followed quickly by Delia.
“You missed the rose competition at the Smithsonian,” Andrew said, his expression sour.
Marianne bit her lip. Delia had brought a potted rosebush all the way from Baltimore to enter the competition. Her sister-in-law was supremely proud of her hybrid roses and had prepared a speech for the judges as part of the contest. Marianne hadn’t been about to miss her morning with Luke to watch Delia preen in a flower contest.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I had to work today. How did the competition go?”
“Work,” Andrew scoffed. “You don’t have to work, you want to work. You flit all over town to take silly pictures and can’t be bothered to support your own family. You were late to Dad’s speech, and now you’ve disrespected Delia by ignoring her efforts in the rose competition.”
Marianne sent a conciliatory nod to her sister-in-law. “I’m sorry I missed the contest. I had commitments today, and I hope you don’t take it as a sign of disrespect that I couldn’t be there.”
“You ought to try a lot harder,” Andrew said. “You’re only a part of this family because Dad insisted on it. You’re here on sufferance.”
Marianne whirled on Andrew. “How dare you!” She scrambled for other words, but her mind went blank at the horrible comment that touched every one of her deepest insecurities.
“Your mother was an opera singer,” Andrew said. “Dad paid her a thousand dollars to disappear, and she gladly took it. You were welcomed into this family even though your mother was little better than a tramp who—”
“Shut up,” she said. “My mother is upstairs. I’ve been looking after her while she has a migraine. I hope you enjoyed yourself at Delia’s garden party.”
“Your mother took a thousand dollars to go away,” Andrew retorted. “If I’d been there, I could have dickered her down to a few hundred.”
She threw the bud vase at him, but he ducked as it smashed against the wall, spattering him with petals and water. He flicked a few droplets from his cuff and smirked.
“Very classy,” he taunted. “Blood will out, won’t it, Marianne?”
Mortification rushed through her. She was becoming exactly what she feared—someone who threw things and yelled and raged.
The noise brought her father storming into the kitchen. “What’s going on in here?” Clyde demanded, his face a thundercloud as he surveyed the broken vase and water trickling down the wall. Jedidiah followed, making the kitchen uncomfortably crowded.
Anger crackled in the air as Andrew lifted his chin and rushed for the moral high ground. “Your daughter couldn’t be bothered to attend Delia’s rose competition,” Andrew said. “Delia has been tending that rosebush for months, but Marianne decided to flit around town playing photographer.”
Clyde turned a stern glance on her. “Marianne, you know that I am proud of your work, but family is important. If your duties at the Department of the Interior interfere with that, perhaps it is time to resign. You don’t need the money.”
Andrew preened at Clyde’s words, and she couldn’t let it go unchallenged. Andrew’s loyalty to their family company came at a huge cost: three people in Philadelphia who drank tainted coffee.
“Is family the most important thing?” she challenged her father, then turned her attention to Andrew. “What about treating people with dignity, even if they don’t share the same blood?”
“Marianne, blood is the only reason we tolerate you,” Andrew said.
“Quiet, boy,” Jedidiah smoldered. “You’ve always run a little hot for my taste, and Marianne is as fine as they come.”
“At least I have my priorities in order,” Andrew said. “I always put this family first. She doesn’t. She waltzes all over town for her own fun, taking pictures. Anyone could take those pictures. Sam could take those pictures. I’ve grown our company and made us plenty of money in the past two years.”
“Is money all that matters to you?” she asked. “Even if it means sacrificing our integrity? Putting other people’s lives at risk, even though they aren’t blood? Do we owe them loyalty?”
Clyde swiveled a look at her. “What are you driving at?”
It was time to confess. It was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done, and so many people were going to be