The Ex Upstairs by Maureen Child

Four

Though Amanda had really surprised him, Henry hid that along with the smile curving his mouth. He wasn’t going to call her out on her ridiculous disguise. He didn’t know what she was up to, but he was willing to go along with her charade. For now. “When you pack the desk, make a note of which drawers have been put into which box.”

She ducked her head again, silently telling him she had no idea it was too late to hide her identity. “I will.”

“Okay,” he said, backing away, because he liked her being nervous, but he didn’t want to scare her off entirely. So he walked to his chair, and watched her.

Why was Amanda here? Why was she in disguise? Never mind. That second question had an answer. She was incognito. But why? What did she hope to gain by this?

He sat down, gathered up the files, but rather than reading them, he watched her. She bent over to reach into the middle drawer and he did a quick mental inventory of the contents. Nothing there she shouldn’t see. Nothing that would interest anyone, in fact. So he relaxed enough to enjoy the view.

Amanda always did have a great butt. He smiled to himself as his gaze swept over the curve of her behind and the long legs currently covered by modest black slacks. Now that he knew it was her, he decided he’d have a little fun. Push her and see how far she was willing to take her deception.

“So, Amelia. How long will you be working for me?” he asked.

She went still for an instant and he could only imagine that she wasn’t happy he was talking to her. “Just a few days. I’m only here to help with the packing.”

“And the unpacking? At the new house?” He smiled to himself when she went still again.

“I don’t really know, Mr. Porter. I suppose that’s up to Martha.” Her voice shook a bit and he was glad. She really was nervous. Good. She was here, in his house, probably trying to be a super spy or something. And whatever her plan was, it wouldn’t work.

“Oh, I’m sure Martha will need the extra help,” he said. “You should probably count on sticking around for a while.”

She ducked her head and made a big production out of stacking the desk’s contents into a moving box. But it was far too late to hide from him.

Did she really believe a pair of fake glasses would be enough to disguise her eyes? From him? No. Those blue eyes had stayed with him all these years. They’d haunted his dreams, muddled his thoughts and basically been with him for the last ten years.

Hell, everything he’d done and accomplished over the last several years had been because of the Careys. Because of her. He’d been driven to prove them wrong. To show them all that he didn’t need them or their powerful family to succeed. And he’d won, hadn’t he? He’d taken his father’s company and made it one of the top five in the country. Hell, the world.

So how could he possibly forget anything about her?

“I’m almost finished with your desk. Is there something else you need?”

He pushed up from the chair and walked toward her. “That’s an interesting question.”

She went still, then instantly moved to close the first box and move on to another.

“Not really,” she said, still not looking at him.

Henry considered flirting. Just to see how far she was willing to take the charade, but he decided against it. No matter that he knew the truth, he wasn’t coming on to a maid in his house. Didn’t mean, though, that he couldn’t enjoy making her uncomfortable.

He eased one hip down onto the desk and watched as she packed up the bottom drawer. Her hands were small and delicate, but her movements were quick, as if she couldn’t wait to finish the task and get away from him. Still nervous, then. Maybe the best thing he could do was back off, let her regroup and gather her nerves.

“Actually,” he said, “once you finish the desk, there’s nothing more I need help with. You can talk to Martha about where she needs help.”

She shot him a glance, then nodded.

Meanwhile, he walked back to the chair where he’d been sitting, picked up the files and began talking as he pretended to read them. “Have you ever known someone you would do anything to best?”

“I’m sorry?” She looked at him briefly and now that he had her attention, he layered it on a little thicker.

“Not really an enemy,” he mused aloud, “but someone who deserves some payback.”

“I...suppose. Maybe,” she said.

“Oh there’s never a maybe,” Henry told her, beginning to enjoy himself. “You’ll know if it happens to you. You won’t have a doubt and you’ll go out of your way to make that person—or people—regret messing with you.”

She took out boxes of envelopes, the extra boxes of pens he kept in there and a ream of paper for his personal printer and tucked them all into the packing box. “Then no, I’ve never had that happen to me. Have you?”

He smiled. “Oh, yes. And I’ve been dealing with them for ten years now.”

“Isn’t that a long time to carry a grudge?”

She was crouched behind the desk now, keeping him from seeing her. But he’d heard the genuine curiosity in her voice, so he answered honestly.

“It’s not a grudge,” he said, thinking about the personal mission he’d been on for ten years. “It’s... Justice is a strong word, but the closest I can get.”

“Justice? For what?”

Now she just wanted to make him say it, so he accommodated her. The Carey family had had their way for far too long. It was time he started giving it back and letting them know why. But in particular, it was Amanda’s turn to squirm. He gave her the truth that had been pushing him for ten years. He wanted to make Amanda Carey stand up and call him out. Because as amusing at this was, he thought, having her in his house with no subterfuge between them would be better.

“A woman I was involved with set me up with her family.” He gritted his teeth at the statement and the fresh flood of old memories that raced through his mind. “Her family then tried to ruin me, so I’m returning the favor.”

She slammed the desk drawer and he smiled, waiting for her to jump to her feet and deny everything. But it didn’t happen. He wouldn’t have thought Amanda could surprise him, but she had. The girl he remembered had been short on patience, self-control. Looked like things had changed.

“How do you know she set you up?”

“Pretty obvious,” he said tightly. Hell, what else would have brought Bennett to the boathouse in Italy in the middle of the night, if she hadn’t either let it slip that she was meeting Henry or flat out told Bennett. What Henry had never really been able to figure out was why she’d done it.

If she had wanted him to leave her alone, why not just say so? Tell him to get lost. She’d never had a hard time speaking her mind. But she hadn’t. Amanda had been as crazy for him as he was for her—either that or she was a hell of an actress.

Before they were together on that night, he’d known Amanda for two years, off and on. He spent a lot of holidays with Bennett and his family and Henry had watched Amanda grow and change, from eighteen to twenty. They laughed together, swam together, and the heat between them built slowly, inexorably until finally, they’d had each other one night in Italy. And Henry remembered feeling his future open up in front of him. All he could see was Amanda. All he wanted was Amanda, and for a couple of hours, he knew that his world was right. That he’d found the one woman in the world for him.

Then Bennett had shown up and blown it all to hell. But the question remained, what had brought Amanda’s older brother—and, at the time, Henry’s best friend—to the boathouse that night? How had he found them?

Answers never came, but the memories never left.

The memory of him and Bennett, shouting at each other, fiercely throwing punches while Amanda screamed at both of them to stop. He remembered moonlight streaming out of a cloudless sky, the water of Lake Como slapping against the dock, and the slam of Bennett’s fist into his jaw. A friendship he’d depended on had ended that night, along with what he’d thought he had with Amanda.

“When her older brother walked in on us right after we had sex—I figured he knew something was going on. Otherwise, why would he be there at all?”

“So you don’t know she turned on you, you’re just guessing.”

He scowled at the top of her head, since that’s all he could see. Was it easier, he wondered, for her to lie to him if she wasn’t looking at him?

“It’s not a guess.”

“I hope not,” she said. “If you’ve been trying to deliver karma on the strength of a guess, that would be a sad way to live your life.”

Irritation rose up from his gut and flooded his chest. “Sad? I don’t live a sad life.” He was fine. Always had been. “I do what I want, when I want. How is that sad?”

“Well, if it’s so great to be you, why are you so bent on payback?”

He scrubbed one hand across his face and wished to hell she’d stand up and look at him. But she just kept packing as if she were having this weird conversation with a stranger.

“Because this family went out of their way to brush me aside.” And even after all these years, Henry could feel the stab of betrayal. He hadn’t had many friends until college. He’d been too focused on fulfilling his father’s goals and plans. But as his roommate, Bennett had drawn Henry into his circle of friends. He’d taken him to Carey family vacations and holiday celebrations. He’d included Henry at poker games and parties at school. Bennett Carey had been Henry’s first true friend. And his betrayal had been the driving force behind everything Henry had done since.

He’d worked night and day, devoted himself to success and had built Porter Enterprises into the kind of company his father had only dreamed of having.

But with that success, he’d paid the price. There were no close friends. Only acquaintances, business connections, and Henry always...always...was on guard for the next knife in the back. Bennett had taught him well.

That long-ago night had both fueled and shattered his future.

She looked up briefly. “Another guess?”

“No guessing,” he said flatly, meeting her gaze until she ducked down again. “They set out to destroy me.”

“You look all right to me,” she pointed out.

“That’s because they failed.” A good thing to remind himself of. Their failure. His success. And he would continue to keep that record shining. Oh, the Carey Corporation was strong. There was no way he could undermine their foundations, but he was able to make sure they didn’t grow as they wanted to. By throwing roadblocks in their way—such as buying that stupid hall because he’d discovered Amanda wanted it—he could make their progression much slower and more difficult than they would like.

“And you’re sure of that, too?”

He laughed now, hearing the slight edge of anger in her so carefully controlled voice. “Oh, yeah. They haven’t been able to stop me or destroy my company, so yes. They failed.”

“And they’ve stopped trying?”

“No. I wouldn’t be surprised,” he added wryly, “if they tried to slip a spy into my own damn house just to keep tabs on me.”

She went completely still and Henry had to hide a smile. There was a long pause before she said, “That sounds ridiculous.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” he agreed and walked back toward his desk. When he came around the edge, he stood there, looking down at her. “Wouldn’t it be pitiful for someone to wear a disguise and try to sneak into my house?”

“Well, maybe not pitiful,” she said, shooting one glance up at him. “Daring, though.”

“Sneaky, not daring.” He kept his features blank even though he wanted to laugh at the sudden stiffness in her shoulders and the lifting of her chin. She was insulted.

He’d pushed her hard enough for today, he told himself, though he was looking forward to having her around for however long this masquerade was going to continue. Whatever the reason for her game, she wasn’t going to win. But that only made the game more fun for Henry.

“Anyway,” he said abruptly, “I’ll get out of your way, so you can get back to work.”

“Thanks,” she muttered and he heard the masked anger in her tone.

“Sure. I assume,” he said as he stepped back, “you’ll be at the new house tomorrow helping Martha organize.”

There was a pause and Henry knew Amanda was considering just how far she wanted to take this.

Finally, though, she said, “Like I said. I’m...not sure.”

“Well, I think Martha will still need the help, so I’ll expect to see you.” He turned and headed out of the room, stopping only long enough to pick up the discarded files he’d left on the club chair. As he walked out of the room, he smiled to himself and realized he was going to enjoy this move even more than he’d anticipated.

Amanda finished up in the study and muttered, “Damn it. All of that for nothing.”

Not only had she had to deal with Henry, but she also hadn’t found a thing that might give her a hint as to how he was getting information on her family. Frustrating. Even more frustrating was the fact that whenever he came close to her, she felt a blast of heat whip through her like a stray lightning bolt. For one unsettling moment, Amanda had been sure he’d recognized her. The way he looked into her eyes. The puzzled expression on his face. But then that moment passed and she’d felt safe again in the disguise that was uncomfortable but, apparently, convincing.

But beneath everything, she was irritated. Amanda looked around the room. The space was huge, but it was dark and somehow claustrophobic, with its heavy, dark green drapes at the windows, the dark leather chairs and the burgundy-colored walls. There were framed paintings and photographs of different businesses that Porter Enterprises encompassed and a pendulum clock on one wall, loudly ticking off the seconds. It sounded like a heartbeat in the stillness and sort of creeped her out.

The room didn’t look like Henry at all. At least, not the Henry she’d once known. Had he, along with becoming a corporate pirate of sorts, also become staid and...boring?

“No,” she assured herself. “The man who had been in here bugging me wasn’t boring. Annoying, yes, but not boring.”

More likely he’d simply never made changes to the room after his father left. And she wondered why. Wasn’t this his home, too? Why hadn’t he laid a claim to it, stamped it with his own personality? Was he too involved in trying to destroy the Careys to bother thinking about his surroundings?

“Are you finished in here?”

Amanda spun around to face Martha, standing in the open doorway. “Oh. Yes.”

“Well, then, don’t just stand there. You can come on back and help me in the kitchen again.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Good. We’ve got a cleaning crew coming in after the movers finish tomorrow—not that my house needs cleaning,” she added as if insulted at the very thought of a cleaning crew coming in. “But my kitchen will be cleaned my way,” she said with a sharp jerk of her head. “We’re cleaning that room, top to bottom, until it shines.”

Oh, God. Amanda really wanted to just walk out of that house and forget she’d ever come up with this stupid plan in the first place. But on the other hand, she and Henry had just had the longest conversation they’d had in ten years. It hadn’t exactly been friendly, but it had been...illuminating. And if she could just keep from hitting him over the head with something when he irritated her, she might get some answers. All she had to do, she told herself firmly, was survive being a maid.

When this was all over, the first thing she was going to do was give her own maid a huge raise.

Martha swirled around and headed down the long hall, her footsteps hammering out a beat that matched the relentless ticking of that awful clock on the wall in the study. Amanda threw a hard look at it, gold pendulum swinging back and forth. While she walked to follow Martha to the kitchen, she wondered how anyone could stand the sound of seconds being ticked off their life.

Two hours later, Amanda had broken three nails and scraped the back of her hand, and the throbbing in her knees matched the damn ticking of that stupid clock. She was exhausted, hungry and oh, yes, dirty. Honestly, a raise wasn’t enough for her own maid, Rose. She deserved a two-week vacation somewhere amazing. Or a car. Or both.

“Okay,” Martha announced and waited for Amanda and the two other women helping out to turn and face her. “I think we’ve earned a break. You can all take a half hour and then we’ll tackle the butler’s pantry and the laundry room.”

“Sure thing,” the other two women chirped and Amanda only stared at them all. She’d once thought that she worked hard every day. Working on her computer, making calls, taking meetings, she’d gone home to her condo tired enough to order dinner and have a glass or two of wine with her feet up.

Now? She was too tired to chew and felt as if she didn’t have the strength to pick up a wineglass. And she wasn’t finished. Still, she took advantage of the “break” and almost crawled into the beautifully tended backyard.

It felt good to have the sun on her face and the soft breeze sliding in off the ocean, which ruffled the leaves as well as tousled the hair of her black wig, tossing it into her eyes. She shook it back, dug her phone out of her pocket and kept walking until she reached the stone bench situated beneath a tree covered in pink blooms. She dropped onto it and half wondered if she’d be able to get up again. Then she shrugged off that worry, hit speed dial and waited for her sister to answer.

“Amanda! I tried to call you earlier and you didn’t answer.” Serena’s voice was fast and pitched low.

“I had it turned off,” Amanda admitted, tipping her head back to stare up at patches of blue sky through the cloud of pink flowers. “Sorry, couldn’t talk before. The general in charge of the maids gave me a break. Which is not going to be long enough.” She sighed, planted her right hand on the bench and leaned back. If it wouldn’t look too pitiful from the house, she’d stretch out right there and take a nap.

“Well, hope you’re having a great time, because here in the office, things are not good.”

Frowning, she dismissed the beautiful tree, the landscaped grounds and her own fatigue long enough to ask, “What’s happening?”

“What isn’t? Bennett’s a crazy person, looking for you because the Oregon Choir has to postpone their performance by two weeks.”

She straightened up. “They can’t do that.”

“So Bennett told them, with a lot less diplomacy.”

“Oh, God.” Amanda pushed up from the bench and almost stabbed her fingers through her hair, but she would have pulled that stupid wig off. Walking aimlessly across the grass, she asked, “Why are they postponing?”

“I’m not really sure, something about their primary singer straining her throat and she needs time to recover and...”

“No, no, no,” Amanda argued, shaking her head. “That’s their marketing, publicity guy. He tried this two years ago, too. It’s as if he wants us to prove how badly we want the choir. Last time, he tried to get me to increase the publicity for their tour. They’re very popular and he knows it so he’s always angling for better pay or more promotion.”

“Well, Bennett didn’t know that.”

“Oh, damn it.” She should have been there to handle things, Amanda thought in disgust. “Tell Bennett I’ll take care of it.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to work because if you check your phone, you’ll probably see a half-dozen calls from him on it.” Serena’s voice went even lower as she added, “He’s not going to be happy to know I talked to you and he didn’t.”

“Why are you whispering? Aren’t you in your office?”

“Yes, but Bennett’s popped in here four times today, looking for you.” Serena paused. “I don’t know if he thinks I’ve hidden you under my desk or something, but—”

“Fine. Tell Bennett I’ll call him tonight.”

“Good luck talking to him. He’s even more irascible than usual.”

“Great.” Amanda glanced back at the house, wondering if Bennett and Henry were on the same wavelength because they were both driving her nuts today. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call the Oregon guy and get this straightened out.”

“Do you have the number?”

“In my phone.” Amanda blew out a sigh. “Look, just cover for me with Bennett and I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“Where are you, then?”

“What do you mean where am I?” Amanda frowned at the phone. “You know where I am.”

“Yes. But I can’t tell Bennett that, can I?” Her voice dropped even lower. “He would completely lose it.”

Yes, he would. “Um, then tell him I’m trying to land another performer for this summer. And, tell him I wouldn’t tell you who it is.”

“Fine.” Serena huffed out a breath. “But this pretend-maid thing better be worth all of this.”

“I think it will be,” she said. At least she hoped so.

“And don’t forget, we have the first audition taping for the Summer Stars contest tonight and you have to be there.”

“Crap. I forgot about that.” Must be all the fumes from the cleaning products. “Fine. What time?”

“Seven thirty. Be there, Amanda, because I promise you, Bennett will be.”

Why did that sound more like a threat than a promise?

She hung up a moment later, scrolled through her contacts list and hit Dial. Ten minutes of wrangling with the Oregon Choir marketing director, Cory Davis, got things straightened out and they were back on schedule.

“But you can tell your brother that I didn’t appreciate the threats.”

“Bennett threatened you?”

“With a lawsuit!” Cory was outraged.

“Well, of course we’re not going to sue,” Amanda soothed. “Just as, of course, you’re going to be performing at the center as scheduled.”

“Naturally,” Cory said, mollified at least until next summer, “I’m pleased to see that at least one member of the Carey family is reasonable.”

Right. “Okay, thanks, Cory. We’ll see you at the beginning of June.”

When she was finished, Amanda wanted nothing more than to sit down under that tree again. She had plenty to think about. Bennett over the edge. Serena in the middle of everything. Her mother and father at war. Martha the taskmaster.

But mostly, she was rethinking absolutely every word that had come out of Henry’s mouth. Did he really believe she had set him up? That she’d somehow worked it so that Bennett would find them after that amazing bout of sex? Why would she have done that? She’d never been so mortified as the night her brother had walked into the boathouse in Italy and saw her naked.

But if Henry really did believe that, it would explain why he’d never called her. Why he’d disappeared from her life completely until he’d begun his take-the-Careys-down campaign.

“Of course he could have said something,” she mumbled. “Even if it was to yell at me. Then I could have told him that I had nothing to do with Bennett showing up.”

She’d spent the last ten years believing that Bennett had been right about Henry. Back then, her brother had accused his best friend of using Amanda to wedge his way into the Carey family and fortune.

When Henry disappeared and never contacted her, Amanda began to believe the same thing.

Had they both been wrong all this time? She stopped walking beneath a lemon tree and the scent of the white blossoms surrounded her, flavoring every breath. As she thought it through, she came to one obvious conclusion.

“It doesn’t matter. If we were both wrong all this time, what does it change?” Henry had still spent the last several years trying to sink her family. He’d gone out of his way to undermine them whenever he could. Up to and including buying the hall that she’d had such plans for.

He’d taken his father’s company and built it into a powerhouse that rivaled the biggest corporations in the country. And he had used his newfound power to go against everything she was and believed in. Everything she had been working toward for years.

So why was it so hard for her to put that one night with him behind her? And why was she even more attracted to him now than she had been in the past? Was it that slightly ruthless streak? His determination? His image rushed into her mind and left her more than a little breathless. For just a moment, she remembered how it had felt to have him standing so close to her in the study. The buzz of...recognition. Attraction. Heat had swamped her even as she fought to keep her gaze from straying up to meet his. He hadn’t recognized her, she was sure of that.

Because Henry never would have been able to keep from calling her out on it if he had. So while she’d been doing a slow burn that close to him, he’d simply been venting, or whatever, to an employee he no doubt had figured couldn’t have cared less what he had to say. Well, he’d told her more than he would have wanted her to hear. Now she simply had to decide what to do about it. They’d started years ago as a simmering flame that had burst into a wildfire that consumed both of them. Then it was gone and they were both left in the cold.

She still felt the chill of it and had to wonder if he did, too.

“So even if this all started with a misunderstanding,” she whispered, looking at the house where Henry was, “it’s done now. No going back. Only forward. And there’s no common ground for that.” Frowning, she lifted her gaze to the second floor, where she knew Henry’s bedroom was, and wondered if he was currently planning his next foray against the Carey family.

“If he is,” she vowed, “it will fail. I’ll make sure of it.”

The Carey Center was a palace to the performing arts.

Three levels of seating, fronted by glass railings that rippled like waves on the ocean. Those rails were wrapped around an oak stage where the honey-colored wood was polished to a gleam that rivaled a mirror. The stage was seventy feet wide and fifty deep, perfect for a complete orchestra, a huge choir or an intricate ballet.

Every red velvet seat in the house had a wonderful view of the performance and the ceiling was studded with crystals that looked, with the reflected lighting, like stars in a black sky.

The hall itself sat two thousand, not counting the five private boxes and other VIP seating. Backstage, there were several dressing rooms and a luxuriously appointed performer’s lounge.

The lobby of the center was elegant, with miles of Spanish tiles and acres of glass and chrome. There was a café for refreshments, a gift shop and a first aid station, just in case.

For now, though, the center was mostly empty, but for the front row, where their first contestant’s family sat nervously waiting for the show to begin.

Halfway up the center aisle, Amanda sat between Bennett on one side and their mother on the other. While Bennett mumbled to himself and repeatedly checked his email, their mother tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor and reminded Amanda of that awful clock in Henry’s house.

“Are they going to start tonight some time?” Bennett demanded, checking his watch for the fifth time in the last few minutes.

“They’ll start soon. Look.” She pointed to the stage where the pianist from the home symphony was taking his seat at a gleaming black Steinway grand piano. Accompaniment was provided for the contestants if they required it and Jacob Baranca was one of the best pianists in the world. “Jacob’s getting set.”

“Finally.”

Amanda looked at Bennett in time to see his scowl. “You don’t have to be here, you know. The contest is my deal and I can handle it.”

“Like you handled the problem with that Cory from Oregon?”

“I did handle it,” she countered, “no thanks to you. Why would you threaten to sue him?”

A little shamefaced, Bennett said, “He wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“Yes, I’m sure you were the very soul of reason,” Amanda said.

“Fine. I shouldn’t have and you fixed it.” Frowning, he asked, “Who was this new performer you were talking to?”

Amanda took a breath and held it. She really should have come up with an explanation, but by the time she got home from Henry’s, exhausted, she’d had time only to change and rush to the center. “It’s a surprise.”

He shot her a dubious look. “Fine. Whatever. Anyway, this is the first night of the auditions and I wanted to be here. Make sure the technicians have the logistics down.”

“You know, Bennett,” their mother said, interrupting both of them, “you don’t have to do everything in the company yourself. Honestly, you’re becoming more and more like your father.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Speaking of Dad,” she said, “where is he?”

Candace smoothed the skirt of the sleek plum-colored suit she wore. “I have no idea. All I’m sure of is that neither of us is in Palm Springs.”

“Mom,” Bennett said, “stop being so hard on him.”

“Of course you’re on his side. You’re turning out just like him,” Candace shot back.

“There are no sides,” Amanda said on a sigh.

Candace patted her hand. “You poor thing. You just don’t see it.”

Eyes rolling again, Amanda tried to shift the conversation back to what she and Bennett had been talking about. Half turning in her seat, she spotted the cameramen, ready and waiting for the audition to begin. “Don’t worry about it, Bennett. We’ve got two different camera angles to work with. Behind us, and there—” she pointed “—stage left for close-ups. Then we’ll get the recording edited to showcase it.”

Every contestant’s audition would be displayed on the Carey Center website, with some background information on the performer beside their performance recording. Once all twenty of the contestants were online, the Careys would open the voting—with their tech wizards making sure that no one could stuff the ballot box, so to speak.

The winner of the competition would be the star of their own show one night during the Summer Sensations concert series.

“Fine, and the techs will get it to the website wizards?” Bennett looked at Amanda, eyebrows arched in question.

“No, Bennett,” she said, sarcasm dripping. “We’re going to take the recording out and burn it when it’s finished being edited.”

“Little snippy aren’t we?”

“Because I’m a woman, I’m snippy?” she demanded, sitting back to glare at him. “But you’re a man so you’re just frustrated?”

“Don’t pull that feminism crap on me, Mandy. It’s not going to fly. You’re in charge here, so what’re you complaining about?”

“Oh, gee, that maybe the brother who says I’m in charge keeps checking up on me?”

He gritted his teeth briefly and jerked her a nod. “Fine. I get it. Now can you hurry this along?”

“For heaven’s sake, Bennett, if you can’t take the time to enjoy yourself, then go away.” Candace leaned past Amanda to give her son what they used to call the “Mean Mom” stare. Whatever it was called, it worked. Bennett sat back and returned to checking his phone.

“Mandy, who’s the first contestant?” her mother asked.

Amanda turned to look at her and smiled. “Jackie Carson,” she said, checking her notes again to make sure she had that right. “She’s singing a selection from La Bohème.”

“Oh, God, opera,” Bennett muttered.

“I love you, my son, but all of your taste is in your mouth,” Candace said, leaning forward again to give her oldest child another glare.

Amanda snorted, then everyone quieted as the lights died away and a spotlight blossomed onstage. Checking that the camera crew was on it, Amanda sat back to give Jackie Carson her complete attention.

A few moments later, a young woman with long red hair tumbling over her shoulders walked into the light, lifted her chin and began singing. Her absolutely pure, lovely voice soared through the center and reverberated, due to the excellent acoustics.

Beside Amanda, Candace Carey leaned forward, a dreamy look in her eyes and a soft smile curving her mouth. Even Bennett, Amanda realized when she sneaked a look at her brother, was captivated by the woman pouring her heart and soul into a song of love and loss.

When the music trailed off and the last, haunting note of Jackie’s voice drifted into the rafters, Amanda sat back while the woman’s family jumped to their feet, applauding.

“Okay,” Bennett grudgingly admitted, “that was really something.”

“She was wonderful.” Candace dipped into her black leather bag and pulled out a handkerchief that she used to dab at her eyes. “Honestly, Amanda, if all of our contestants are of her caliber, it’s going to be an amazing contest.”

Amanda had to agree. For a few shining moments, Jackie Carson had taken her mind off everything but the moment. “You’re right, Mom,” she said on a sigh, “that was a great start to this contest.”

“She’s got my vote,” Henry Porter spoke up from behind them.