LITMIR.BIZ

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he?” she asked hesitantly.

      “I’ve listened at the keyhole a few times,” Miranda answered. “He’s muttering and pacing the floor like a madman, and it sounds like he’s kicking the furniture when it’s in his way.”

      Was her father deranged, too? Her mother had experienced serious postpartum depression. Now that Rissa’s psychiatrist had prescribed an antidepressant for her, Rissa feared that she had inherited her mother’s instability.

      What if her father’s mind was also unbalanced? Dr. Pearson, her psychiatrist, had assured Rissa that she had only a mild case of clinical depression and had prescribed a low dose of antidepressants to combat her symptoms. But recalling some of Ronald’s temper displays, and his uncaring attitude toward his six daughters, she wondered if her condition was worse than the psychiatrist had diagnosed. And her grandfather, Howard, had Alzheimer’s. What chance did she have against such odds? Would she eventually lose her mind?

      Rissa had chosen a Christian psychiatrist, one who counseled her patients with Biblical teachings along with traditional treatment. During the therapy sessions, Rissa often felt as if she were a child again in her Sunday school class at Unity Christian Church. Upon Dr. Pearson’s advice, Rissa had memorized a few Bible verses that she called to mind anytime she became depressed. The doctor had insisted that a daily dose of Scripture would be an added benefit to her medication.

      Rissa suddenly realized that her aunt had spoken to her twice and that her sisters were staring at her in concern. She forced a slight laugh.

      “Sorry! I’ve had a long night. What did you say?”

      “We waited to have breakfast with you,” Aunt Winnie said. “Are you ready to eat?”

      “Sure. Give me a minute to run upstairs and freshen up.”

      “I’ll bring your luggage,” Portia said.

      “Put it in our bedroom. I’ll wash my hands and face and then join everyone in the dining room.”

      During breakfast Rissa forced an upbeat manner as she chatted with her aunt and sisters, answering their questions about the success of Memories of the Past.

      “We saw a glowing review in the local paper,” Miranda said. “‘Hometown Girl Makes a Splash in the Big Apple.’ If an article makes it into our paper, you can be assured that the news has spread nationwide.”

      “I am pleased with public reception to my play,” Rissa said, smothering a yawn. “My agent encouraged me to start working on another one right away, so I’ve been busy writing a new one.”

      “Now that Portia will be moving back to Stoneley, won’t you be lonesome in the big city?” Aunt Winnie asked. “Why don’t you come home? Seems to me you could write as well here as in New York.”

      “I could never be lonely in New York. It is my home now,” Rissa said. “Coming to Stoneley seems like the end of the world. I can’t imagine anything that would entice me to live here again.”

      “It isn’t a good thing to forget your roots,” Miranda scolded, and Rissa knew she had sounded a little supercilious. She didn’t mean to be that way and decided she would have to work on her attitude. But her relatives who had never lived in the city couldn’t understand how life on the fast track had changed her priorities.

      Missing her youngest sister, Rissa asked, “Has Juliet already gone to work this morning?”

      “She’s in Florida on a business trip and will be gone for a week or two,” Winnie explained.

      “Tough luck,” Rissa said, with a humorous uplift of her carefully tweaked brows. “Having to leave Maine for a trip to Florida this time of year must have been a real sacrifice.”

      “Well, it was in a way,” Portia said. “She didn’t want to leave her boyfriend behind.”

      Rissa had been introduced to Brandon De Witte, whom Juliet had met recently. It must have been love at first sight because the romance seemed to be moving forward rapidly.

      After breakfast Rissa took a shower, went to bed and slept until noon. When she was awakened by a knock on the door by her aunt, who announced that lunch was ready, she dressed hurriedly in black silk pants and a hot-pink long-sleeved blouse. A pair of metallic leather flat shoes completed her outfit. She brushed her hair over her shoulders and went downstairs to the news that her father had finally come out of his office, gone to his bedroom, dressed and left for his job as the steel-hearted CEO of Blanchard Fabrics. The women ate lunch alone.

      “Do you suppose I can see Grandfather this afternoon?” Rissa asked as they finished the light lunch of crab soup, raw vegetables and cherry torte.

      “According to Peg, he isn’t having a good day,” Miranda said. “She said she would let you know when he’s lucid.”

      “I don’t know what we would do without Peg,” Rissa said of the sweet-natured nurse who took care of their grandfather round the clock. “Does she ever take a day off?”

      “I could count on one hand the time she’s been away from the house during the past five years,” Winnie said. “But it’s her fault—we’ve tried to get her to take more time off. She says she doesn’t know what else she would do.”

      “She doesn’t have any family in this area at all,” Miranda said. “She specializes in long-term care and lives in the homes of the families she helps. She apparently doesn’t have a place of her own.”

      “Well, we’re fortunate to have her,” Rissa said.

      When Winnie rang for the maids to clear the table, Rissa said, “I need a walk along the seawall. Portia, why don’t you walk with me to the bluffs? After all, the main reason I’m here is to help plan your wedding. We can make plans as we walk.”

      “You can’t go walking in those clothes,” Miranda said, casting a disdainful eye at the garments that had set Rissa back several hundred dollars. “This isn’t New York City. You’d better take off that fancy outfit and dress for the weather up here. Remember, it’s still April, and you know that we often have snow this time of year.”

      Rissa winced a little at the censure in her sister’s voice. Miranda didn’t understand that in this house, she had to have something tangible, like her city clothes, to remind her that there was another life waiting for her.

      “Snow! Don’t tell me it’s going to snow.”

      “No,” Portia said. “The weather forecast is for thunderstorms, but it’s still cold outside.” Turning to Miranda, she continued, “I’m sure she didn’t intend to walk in those clothes,” taking up for her twin as she always did. “Our heavy coats and boots are in the hall closet upstairs, sis. I’ll go get them.”

      The twins rarely wore matching clothes anymore, but when they left the house in the jackets they had worn when they’d been teenagers, they looked like two peas in a pod. Although the calendar said it was April, and bright sunshine blanketed the estate, the brisk wind from the ocean reminded them that winter hadn’t given up yet.

      Portia shuddered when they walked past the gazebo. “I thought Father had killed someone here last night. Who could he be threatening?”

      “A better question is ‘Who’s threatening him?’ Most of the time, he’s a stranger to me. I often feel as if we not only grew up without a mother but without a father, too. He never has any time for us.”

      “Or for anyone except his latest paramour.” Portia sighed. “He’s still dating Alannah Stafford, and I don’t think she has any intention of letting him go.”

      “I’d hoped he had dumped her by now. But let’s forget unpleasant things. Let’s talk about that wonderful fiancé of yours.”

      “He is wonderful! If anyone had told me six months ago that I would be in love and looking forward to not only having a husband but a daughter, too, I wouldn’t have believed them. After breaking up

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