“Good question,” Savannah said, “and I ask it every week when I write out a check. But good cleaning people are hard to come by. These guys are really good with the heavy stuff. They do a super job on bathrooms and floors and carpets and baseboards. They’re not so good with the little things—”
“Like dust,” Susan said.
“Or fingerprints,” Sam guessed. He looked from one sister to the other. “You use the same cleaning service Megan does?”
“Savannah’s been using them longest. Blame it on her.”
Sam wasn’t ready to blame anything on Savannah. “No one’s making you use them.”
“But Savvy’s right,” Susan argued. “You can’t get good cleaning help anymore. The ones who can dust can’t clean, and vice versa, so you take the lesser of the evils. I can’t do heavy cleaning. These men can. And they bring their own equipment. The last thing I want to be thinking about is buying new vacuum bags.”
“Might interfere with the party plans?” Sam said in a low, taunting voice.
No longer turning her glass but clutching it tightly on the table, Susan looked rigidly at Savannah. “This man is an idiot, do you know that? The gall of him to accuse me of being a snob, when he’s a far worse one than I am. He’s already taken digs at my coat, my rings, my clothes.” She looked over what she was wearing. “Just because I buy a jogging outfit in a boutique rather than a department store doesn’t mean I don’t jog, and it certainly doesn’t mean I’m any less of a person.”
Savannah looked at Sam, who was the picture of innocence.
“She’s too sensitive,” he said. “She can’t take a little kidding.”
Susan turned on him. “Kidding! It’s been nonstop criticism since I arrived.”
“Not true. I told you dinner was great.”
“Uh-huh, after you told me how surprised you were that I knew how to cook.”
“I was. Am. You don’t look like the domestic type. Let’s face it, you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You didn’t do badly when you married, either.”
“Which goes to show what you know,” Susan muttered in disgust.
“Dirk Gardner is loaded.”
“And money can’t make a marriage. Dirk and I were a disaster together. So, yes, I did do badly when I married.”
The good-natured humor that Savannah had seen on Sam’s face when he’d first begun sparring with Susan was replaced by something more sober. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. It’s not easy for me being here, and you’re not helping.”
“I’m trying to. I’m giving you something else to think about besides Megan and that drink.”
Furious, Susan stood. “Who in the hell are you to think you know what I need? If I want a diversion, I can promise it won’t be with a jackass like you.” Bumping the arm of her chair as she rushed past him, she stormed from the room.
Silence hung over her departure. Sam blew out a breath and eyed Savannah expectantly. “Your sister doesn’t like me.”
Sitting back in her chair, Savannah put her elbows on its arms, linked her fingers, and pursed her lips. “I think you may be right.”
“I like her.”
“Really.”
“I do. But she doesn’t take to my honesty. She’s not used to honesty.”
“Astute observation.”
“Her friends are that shallow?”
“Not all of them. I’m her friend. So’s Megan. I don’t like to think either of us is shallow.’
“But the others,” Sam said, “the Newport crowd. Pretty shallow, huh?”
