Free The Silver Boat by Luanne Rice

surrounded by the children, stood two well-dressed women and two well-dressed men. Delia summed them up immediately ; they were all from Greenwich, or Bedminster, or Chevy Chase, or some other fancy suburb. As she watched in true disbelief, Dar grabbed the elbow of the pageboy blonde in the beige suite and strong-armed her out of the kitchen, leaving Delia and Rory to make polite small talk with the other three strangers.
    â€œI hope it’s not inconvenient,” the other woman—even blonder, wearing obnoxious country clothes—beige wool pants and jacket, brown jodhpur boots, and a large russet leather shoulder bag with PRADA in big gold letters. “I believe Morgan tried to contact you, but wasn’t able to get a reply. And this was the only week all three of us could come!”
    â€œMorgan?” Rory asked, sounding suspicious.
    â€œPlease, blame it on me,” the tall, thin, bald man said in a clipped English accent. He wore a tailored black suit, had pale eyes and strangely dominant upper teeth. “It would have been impossible for me to come from London at any other time and still remain on schedule.”
    â€œI feel as if I’m Alice in Wonderland,” Delia said, smiling and offering her hand. “I have no idea what anyone is talking about. I’m Delia Monaghan, and this is my sister Rory Chase.”
    â€œDelia—” Rory began.
    â€œWe’re the Littles,” the not-so-bald man said, “and this is our architect, Jeremy Stent.”
    â€œArchitect?” Delia said, still smiling, not understanding. She felt enveloped by the fog outside, as if it had entered the kitchen and swallowed her up. At the same time, her hands were shaking, as if they perceived something her brain was yet unable to face.
    â€œMorgan said it would be all right,” Mrs. Little said. “We really had no other choice. The children are on school vacation.” She pointed out the window at two towheaded boys jumping up and down and running in excited circles. “And Jeremy has to be in Milan on Tuesday.”
    â€œBut why are you here ?” Delia asked as Dar and the now stone-faced pageboy blonde returned to the kitchen.
    â€œI should have told you,” Dar said, turning toward Delia and Rory. “I ignored the calls and e-mails, but Morgan brought her clients and their architect anyway. I’d hoped we could finish with our part before moving on to theirs . . .”
    â€œYou mean . . .” Delia started. She stared at her sister so she wouldn’t immediately blow up at the strangers.
    â€œYou remember Morgan Ludlow,” Dar said. “Of Island Properties. She sold our house, and these are the people who bought it.”
    Delia felt her blood pressure spike. To her shock, she managed to contain the fury inside. She just went to Morgan Ludlow, gently took her by the shoulders, and turned her toward the kitchen door.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Delia said, eyes on the Littles and Jeremy Stent. “But this really isn’t a convenient time. It just isn’t.”
    â€œBut,” Mrs. Little said, glowering at Morgan Ludlow, “why would you have told us it would be fine if it wasn’t?”
    â€œPlease, Dar,” Morgan said as Delia pushed her forward. “This man flew all the way from London!”
    â€œAnd he’s going to tear down our house,” Dar said.
    â€œIt’s up to the Littles what they wish to do with the property . . .” Morgan said.
    â€œWe get the point,” Dar said. “But for now it still belongs to us, and my sister’s right. The timing isn’t convenient.”
    Delia felt so proud of Dar—of them—the three McCarthy sisters, for sticking up for what was theirs. At least until the closing at the end of the month.
    â€œWhat if the deal falls through now?” Rory asked once the strangers had left.
    â€œI don’t give a shit,” Dar said. “I hope it