LITMIR.BIZ

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Oh, she’d done as much research as she could—first cross-examining Mr. Fitzwalter and then checking out Maddie’s Web site. In Jordan’s opinion, the Web site needed a makeover, but the jewelry didn’t. Her sister had talent. Most of Maddie’s work was focused on Southwestern belt buckles, tie clips and pins. The designs were dramatic, the workmanship exquisite, using a lot of turquoise and intricately inlaid patterns. There’d also been a few examples of finer pieces—earrings and bracelets. Perhaps she could use her sister’s interest in jewelry design as a bargaining chip.

      But she needed to know more. And she didn’t have a lot of time. The seventy-two-hour clock was ticking.

      Leaning down, she opened the door of a small refrigerator and then glanced back at Maddie standing just inside the room, taking it in.

      Jordan let her own gaze sweep the area. It was a small suite with two bedrooms. The sitting room had dormer windows with lace curtains and was furnished in antiques. Two chintz-covered love seats faced each other across a small coffee table with a marble top.

      “I can offer you some wine. Mom and I always liked white. But I can order up a bottle of red or something else if you’d prefer.”

      “White’s fine,” Maddie said.

      Silence stretched as Jordan uncorked a bottle of chardonnay and filled two glasses. Stalling. That’s what she was doing. What in the world was the matter with her? She was hardly ever at a loss for words.

      “This is a lovely room,” Maddie said.

      Jordan glanced around again and felt her throat tighten a little. “Mom liked it. We used to stay here whenever we had to visit Uncle Carleton and company.” She would never stay here again with her mother. But she couldn’t let herself think about that right now. Not yet.

      “You didn’t stay at Ware House?”

      Jordan handed her a glass and waved her over to one of the love seats. “The atmosphere there has always been a bit frigid. And things have gotten worse since I got my MBA and started working at Eva Ware Designs. But it goes back further than that. I don’t think that Uncle Carleton and Mom ever saw eye to eye even when they were kids. The friction escalated when my grandfather died. Uncle Carleton is one of those old-fashioned men who believes that the oldest son should inherit everything outright. Thank heavens, my grandfather didn’t agree. When he died, he divided everything up between Mom and Uncle Carleton—even Ware House. She took her half of the stocks, bonds and cash and invested everything in her design business. She was able to move into the Madison Avenue store.”

      “Smart decision,” Maddie said.

      “I agree, but the other Wares didn’t.”

      Maddie grinned suddenly.

      “What?”

      “What you called them—the other Wares. I’d already started thinking of them that way.”

      Smart, Jordan thought. Her twin was perceptive. That could work in her favor. Tucking her feet underneath her, she leaned back. “As a sort of peace offering, Mom agreed to let Uncle Carleton, Aunt Dorothy and Adam live in Ware House. She got to use the place for business parties, and she agreed to attend any social gatherings that had to do with Ware Bank.”

      Maddie sipped her wine. “You said the friction’s gotten worse since you went to work for Eva Ware Designs.”

      “Because before that, Adam thought he had a clear shot at taking over the business one day. He’d been there for three years before I joined the company. He’s a brilliant designer. Mom was very aware of that. His parents were disappointed with him because he didn’t go into banking, so I think he feels he has to succeed. Aunt Dorothy certainly does. Plus, he has a temper.”

      “I noticed. He may be a fine designer, but he doesn’t have your background in business.”

      Jordan studied her for a moment. “How do you know that?”

      “I looked you up on the Internet. A bachelor’s degree from the Wharton School, an MBA from Harvard. Very impressive.”

      Slowly, Jordan smiled. “Touché. I visited your Web site. It needs some work, by the way. But the jewelry doesn’t. What I saw was beautiful.”

      Setting her glass down, Jordan leaned closer and fingered one of the earrings Maddie was wearing. The silver had been configured into fragile lace surrounding a clear turquoise stone. “This is quite lovely. Mom was always looking for turquoise of this quality.”

      “She should have come to New Mexico.”

      Jordan met her sister’s eyes and saw a hint of pain that she totally understood. “She was in New Mexico when she gave birth to us. I badgered Fitzwalter until he showed me our birth certificates. We were born in Santa Fe.”

      “She was at the ranch?”

      “I don’t know about that, but she was definitely in Santa Fe.”

      “She should have come back.”

      “Yes, she should have. And our father should have come here. I’m not sure we’ll ever find out why they didn’t. Or why they separated us.”

      “Why does she want us to switch places?” Maddie asked. “You said you had a theory about that?”

      “I do. I got it the moment I searched your name. I think she wants you to get an in-depth experience at Eva Ware Designs because she wants you here.”

      “No. That’s impossible.”

      “I know her. She was a very focused woman. I’m sure she was keeping track of your career, and if and when something happened to her, she wanted you to see what she’d created—to know that you could share in it.”

      “But why didn’t she contact me? Why put it in her will?”

      Jordan rose and began to pace. “I’ve asked myself those questions over and over. She could have been afraid to contact you after all these years. The other thing about her is that designing jewelry was her driving passion.” Jordan waved a hand. “She gets—used to get—totally lost in her work. Other things got pushed to the back burner.”

      “Why three weeks?”

      “She probably thought twenty-one straight days would do it.” Jordan’s smile was wry. “When she first started at her gym, her trainer told her that doing something every day for three weeks was what it took to build a habit.”

      “But that’s…crazy. And it’s not fair to you.”

      “It’s not crazy if you knew Mom. Eva Ware Designs meant everything to her.” Jordan paced to one of the windows before she turned back. “That’s why we have to talk about the will.”

      Maddie rose also. “Yes, we do. I want you to know that—”

      Jordan held up a hand. “Stop right there. Since I’m the oldest, I get to go first.”

      Maddie’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know you’re the oldest?”

      Not a pushover either, Jordan thought. “I told you I’d seen the birth certificates. I beat you into the world by almost four minutes.” Impulsively, she strode over and grabbed Maddie’s hands. “I want you to please hear me out before you say a word.”

      Maddie nodded.

      Jordan dropped her sister’s hands, whirling away. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this in a way that will convince you.”

      “You don’t have to.”

      Jordan glared at her and pointed a finger. “You said you’d hear me out.”

      “Okay. Okay.” Maddie threw both hands up and sat back down on the love seat. Watching her sister made her think of her father. That glare Jordan had just given her had been pure Mike Farrell and her father had always paced when he was trying to talk her into something. But she’d just wanted to

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