Whirlwind - Janet Dailey Page 0,79

her way to her own room. Before sitting down with Tess, she’d tossed her duffel on the bed. Everything inside needed to go into the wash. Unpacking could wait until morning.

A plastic laundry basket, stacked with clean, folded clothes, sat next to the bureau. Callie’s work. As Lexie lifted out a fresh nightgown, stripped off her underwear, and pulled the soft, fragrant cotton over her head, the loss hit her. Tears she’d been holding back for long hours came in a flood. Crawling into bed, she pulled up the covers, buried her face in the pillow to muffle her sobs, and let the world cave in on her.

* * *

The barking dogs woke Lexie from an exhausted but fitful sleep. Still muzzy, she lay still a moment. Then, turning, she glanced at the bedside clock. The glowing digits said 4:10 A.M., too early for anyone to be out doing chores.

The aging border collies were still barking. Maybe the coyote she’d seen earlier had ventured into the yard. But no—she knew those dogs. She knew the threatening tone of their barks when they sensed an intruder. But that wasn’t what she was hearing now. It sounded more as if the dogs were excited.

What on earth?

Lexie flung herself out of bed. In the dim hallway, she almost bumped into Tess. Her sister was wrapped in a bathrobe and armed with a pistol. “Stay behind me,” she said.

“But the dogs—”

“Keep still. This could be anything—or anybody.”

Better safe than sorry, Lexie told herself as she moved behind Tess and followed her across the dark living room to the locked door. Someone outside was rattling the latch. From the other side came a voice, husky but unmistakably female, the words muffled by the thick wood.

“Damn it, unlock this door and let me in!”

“Oh, good grief!” Tess lowered the gun and flung open the door. A figure in a rakish fedora stood on the porch, fighting off the licking, wagging, ecstatic welcome of the dogs.

“For crying out loud, get these damned mutts off me!” There could be no mistaking that gravelly Lauren Bacall voice.

Val was home.

* * *

While Val fled to the bathroom and Tess started an early breakfast, Lexie pulled on sweats and sneakers and went out to bring Val’s luggage in from the car. To her surprise, she found the back seat and trunk of the vintage red Cadillac convertible crammed with boxes, bags, and an assortment of suitcases. This could only mean one thing. Val hadn’t just arrived for a short visit. It appeared that she’d come home to stay.

Bursting with questions she knew better than to ask, Lexie began carrying items inside and stacking them in the living room. Where they’d go from there would be up to Val and Tess. It felt almost like the old days, being the little sister again—not that she’d ever liked it much.

Lexie had been in her early teens when Val had left for California. Since then, it was as if her sister were living on some distant, glittering planet—acting in movies, dating co-stars and producers, attending premieres and parties dressed in glamorous designer clothes. Lexie had never envied that life or wanted it for herself. But over the years, Val had become like a mythical goddess or a fairy-tale queen, living in a make-believe world. Now, suddenly, she had become real.

“Lexie!” Val came rushing back into the living room to clasp Lexie from behind and spin her around. “Let me look at you! My God, you’re a grown woman! And you’re gorgeous!”

Val, with her mother’s petite stature, was a halfhead shorter than her sisters. Dressed in jeans and a black sweater, her hat gone, she looked thin and tired. But she was still beautiful with her stunning green eyes, porcelain skin, and fiery mane of auburn hair.

“It’s . . . good to see you, Val.” Lexie was still at a loss for words.

“Breakfast!” Tess called from the kitchen. “I’m guessing you’d rather sleep than eat, Val. But we need to talk now, so come on in and sit down.”

“I could do with a bite or two.” Val walked into the kitchen, with Lexie following. Tess had made coffee and toast, and was adding cheese to some scrambled eggs.

Taking a seat at the small table, Val glanced around the kitchen. “Where’s Callie?” she asked.

The spatula that Tess was holding dropped from her hand and clattered onto the floor. She stared at her sister in horror. “You didn’t get my messages? You don’t know?”

“My phone got stolen