Free Punishment with Kisses by Diane Anderson-Minshall Page A

everyone, and Ash was at her side. They kept exchanging glances like they shared some kind of secret. The thought affected me. What kind of secrets could Ash and Tabitha share? I wanted to march over there and interrupt their reverie with my presence so that I stopped feeling like I was outside looking in. But they looked too insular, too serene and self-protected. This was clearly their element, not mine and not Father’s. Just what kind of secret did the two share? What did they know that I didn’t?
    Father was in the corner, but I could see he was watching them too, scowling as well. He looked as unhappy as Tabitha and Ash looked happy. And me, well, I’ll bet I had a scowl too, though I was trying to suck it up and get the night over with.
    From my corner of the room I could see Ash go back to the bar again and again. She’d had at least half a dozen martinis, best that I could tell, a quantity that would have me under the table by then. But for Ash, she just seemed louder and happier than she was at the outset. When toasts started ringing out from friends and well-wishers, I was hoping it meant the gala was starting to wind down. The silent auction was over. They were clearing the bar. The awards had been had. The deejay had shut down. Soon I could go home and call Shane.
    But instead, Ash decided to toast the stepmonster, this time offering accolades at the top of her lungs. “You have an amazing fundraising acumen,” Ash said, way too loudly as Tabitha tugged on her dress and smiled at the ground. “Congratulations on being such a ball-breaker when it comes to money.”
    The crowd offered up nervous laughter. Was it a joke? Should they laugh? Nobody knew. Not even me.
    “And for marrying well. And for loving all us perverts out there. Right, Daddy-O?”
    The crowd was astounded by Ash’s proclamations and all eyes turned from her and Tabitha to Father, whose fists were balled in anger as he stormed off. Ash walked off in a different direction, leaving me standing next to Tabitha, who attempted to regain some dignity in the moment.
    “Well, who said booze and speeches don’t mix?” The crowd around her laughed, partly out of anxiety, partly due to their alcohol consumption, but mostly just for the chance to wash themselves of the very public private spectacle of my family.
    Tabitha grabbed my elbow gently and whispered in my ear. “Megan, I’m worried about your sister. I think she’s using drugs, real drugs, not just marijuana. I think it’s all Cynthia’s fault. That girl is trouble.”
    Suddenly, I was less angry at Ash and more worried about her. What on earth would make her lose it in a crowd like this? The old Ash, the person I knew years ago, before I went off to college, she used to worry about what people thought of her, what others said about her. She worried about where she was going in life and who she would become. And as stupid as our stepmother was, this seemed like something Tabitha got right. Ash did seem more and more troubled lately. She seemed to have no compass in life—moral or otherwise—and she was floundering.
    Some sick part of me was secretly pleased.
    “Can you talk with her?” Tabitha was teary eyed.
    “Of course.” I meant it too. I loved my sister. I did. I just hated who she’d become as of late. And while I felt like it was she who owed me an apology and should reach out first, I was willing to be the bigger person and offer her an olive branch. Maybe if I could put an end to this sibling feud we could bridge the chasm between us and relate to one another like normal sisters.

    *

    Since Tabitha was the night’s woman of honor, she and I were stuck at the party another few hours. How Father and Ash got home I’m not sure, but when it was time to go, the two of us rode back in the Bentley alone.
    “You looked happy there tonight,” I said, hoping to find out what was really going on behind the scenes. When Tabitha only smiled I tried a different tack. “You and