The Sister-in-Law: An absolutely gripping summer thriller for 2021 by Pamela Crane (best romance novels of all time .TXT) 📗

through the earth. Daffodils or tulips, I could never tell which until their blooms crested, and even then I often got them confused, no matter how often Harp drilled me with details. That was the breadth of my flower knowledge, and I only knew those names from last fall, when Harper dropped a couple dozen bulbs on my lawn and insisted we spruce up my garden. By we, she meant her, but I was happy to give her something to do. Anything to take her mind off the demons chasing her.

Making one more trip down and back up the gray flagstone walkway, I stepped over the neighbor’s cat, Puddin’. Apparently, he preferred my expensive sod grass over his litter box.

‘Did you pack the whole house?’ I joked to Harper, dropping a heavy box, filled with what felt like hardcover books, at the foot of the stairs with a thump. ‘What the heck is in here?’

‘Only the necessities,’ Harper called over her shoulder from the second-story landing. ‘I promise you’ll hardly know we’re here,’ she hollered as she rounded the corner, out of sight, toward her bedroom. A loud thud shook the ceiling and a moment later Harper reappeared at the top of the stairs empty-handed.

‘You don’t mind if I clean out these two extra bedrooms, do you? They’re a complete mess. Honestly, Lane, how do you live like this? It’s like a teenager lives here.’ Harper gestured toward the kids’ bedroom behind her, then trotted down the stairs.

Candace looked up from the television show she wasn’t watching, her blue eyes icy. ‘I use those rooms to store what I can’t fit in my closet, Harper. Please don’t touch my stuff.’ It was a demand, not a request.

‘I kind of have to move it if I’m going to be staying here, Candace. Clothes and shoes and junk scattered everywhere. At least let me fold and organize it for you. You might never want me to leave, you know. It’ll be like having a live-in maid and cook!’

Harper flashed a wide, toothy, Anne Hathaway smile. But Candace’s scowl from the living room sofa said it all. She knew this wouldn’t be a short-term stay. And it wasn’t a welcome stay either.

I had to admit, I didn’t hate the idea of Harper living with us. Not that I didn’t want alone time with my new wife, but it would be nice to have someone cleaning the house, making home-cooked dinners, doing laundry. Those weren’t things Candace did, and mothering came naturally to Harper. She’d had years of practice after our father died – when I was eleven and Harper was ten – and our mother was working two jobs, most of the time leaving us to fend for ourselves. Even though Harper was a year younger than me, she had always taken care of me like a smaller, more available version of Mom. It wasn’t that Mom wanted to heap all that responsibility on us; she had no choice. She was a widow with two kids. What options did she have?

I remember one summer when Mom had hired an after-school babysitter, a neighborhood girl whose family had hit hard times, but the girl had set our stove on fire making mac ‘n’ cheese and that ended that. Since that summer Harper had stepped in to fill in the gaps; a girl born with a broom in one hand and a spatula in the other.

I didn’t need Candace to be like Harper. Candace offered so much more than a clean house. She offered me a love that colored in my gray heart, then made me want to tear it out just to prevent her from breaking it. Our fights nearly killed me, but Candace was worth it.

Candace made me wax poetic when I didn’t even know I had poetry in me.

In an ideal world, my sister could teach my wife her favorite recipes or cleaning tips and they’d laugh over tea and scones together. But that was the same make-believe land where other fantasies lived, like half-naked college-girl car washes and sexy pillow-fight sleepovers. I knew better than to hope my sister and wife would ever get along.

I turned toward the front door to grab what I hoped was the last of Harper’s belongings as Candace aimed a hushed ‘Lane’ at me.

‘What’s up, babe?’ Already I was preparing to defuse the bomb I anticipated exploding at any moment.

She muted the television and sat upright. ‘This has got to stop – now. There is no reason she needs this much crap for a couple weeks. You know she’s moving in for good, don’t you?’

I leaned down to kiss Candace’s reddening cheek, but she backed out of reach. I hadn’t seen this possessive, earnest side of her before, but it was kind of cute.

‘I promise it won’t be long. If she starts to get too settled, I’ll deal with it. But for now let’s not make a problem where there isn’t one. Please, honey?’

‘Don’t honey me. You put your sister before your wife. Not cool, Lane. I’m trying to handle this the best I can, but we’re only a couple weeks into our marriage and we already have live-in guests. We need time together. Alone. To connect. If you can’t give me that, then clearly we made a mistake getting married.’ She was quickly spiraling into un-cute.

It almost sounded like she was threatening to leave me over this.

‘You want me to kick my own sister and her kids out on the street? When her husband just recently died?’

Candace laughed with an unfamiliar coldness. I almost didn’t recognize her anymore. Where was my fluid, anything goes, live-in-the-moment wife?

‘The street? C’mon, Lane, she owns a house.’ She rose from the sofa and blustered into the kitchen as I followed her. ‘A huge house, by the way. And she has a mother with a spare bedroom. She’s got other options. You’re just too much of a doormat to stand up to her – to stand up for me. For