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I-don’t-care-what-you-think. Her favorite topic was these two older girls she seemed to emulate—someone named Lacey, and another she just called T.
    Jen turned to her sister. “You have insurance, right? Money to cover repairs?”
    Owen pulled out a long, narrow saw from his toolbox. “Aimee, I’ll only charge you for materials, as usual.”
    Aimee ignored him and looked at Jen with worried, glassy eyes. “I’ve got a little put away, and insurance will cover some of it. But I need the income from during the games. The Scottish Society president is staying here and I’m fully booked. The rooms have to be perfect. Can you ask Owen when he’ll be done?”
    “Maybe he’d be done quicker,” Jen noted, “if you didn’t play these games. What is going on here anyway?”
    Ainsley laughed. Owen added wryly, “Yeah, I’d kinda like to know, too.”
    Aimee worried her lip and suddenly looked sheepish. “Old habits,” she mumbled. Just as Jen had figured.
    “I don’t have time for this, Aim. I’ll let you explain that comment to Owen.” Jen pressed a hand to her forehead. “You brought me here for another reason and I have to take care of that.”
    “Taking care of that” involved getting out to the fairgrounds and seeing firsthand all the supplies and tents and signage stored there. She also needed to do a location assessment, make sure she agreed with the layout and found the grounds suitable.
    “Aimee,” Owen said with a chuckle, “tell your sister it was nice to finally meet her.”
    “Jen,” Aimee said wearily, “Owen says good-bye.”
    Brother
.
    Owen whipped around to face Aimee. “Ha!” His wide grin made the silver in his cheek stubble shine. Aimee had always gone for older guys. So had mom. Two peas in a pod, those two, and usually not in the best ways. “Gotcha. You’re talking to me now.”
    Aimee’s oval face went splotchy red and she glanced up at Jen in embarrassment. She kicked at a baseboard. “Oh, hell.”
    As Owen started to cross to Aimee, his intent plastered all over his expression, Jen threw up her hands. “I’m out of here. You guys figure . . . this . . . out.” She headed for the front door.
    “What was
that
all about?” she heard Owen say to her sister.
    “I’m sorry,” Aimee replied.
    “So am I,” he said, and there the talking ended.
    It had heated up a good ten degrees since Jen had been delayed by Aimee’s retreat into her seventeen-year-old dependent self. Jen was already sweating through her wrap dress and her feet felt like they were swimming in her heels, but this was still work and she refused to dress down, even if she did sort of feel like she was playing a part while she was here. Besides, they were the only articles of clothing she’d managed to clean and get dry after yesterday’s waterlogging. The rest of her belongings were strung up all over the rental house on Maple. She didn’t trust that ancient dryer not to cook her delicates down to a size zero, which she definitely wasn’t.
    Halfway to her car, Jen heard footsteps behind her. She turned to find Ainsley on the flagstone path, squinting up at her, the sun shrinking the pupils in her bright blue eyes to tiny specks. Aimee said her daughter looked exactly like the thirty-year-old guy who’d gotten Aimee pregnant at nineteen and then took off as soon as he got the news. Jen had just started college then, with Aimee stuck back in Iowa, so Jen had never known the guy. But Ainsley definitely didn’t take after her mom, and Jen wondered how long it had taken Aimee to get used to the everyday reminder of the asshole.
    “They’ll be okay, you know,” Ainsley said, shaking her head. “They fight sometimes, but then it’s all good.”
    Jen hid a smile. “So you like Owen? Is he good to your mom?”
    “Sure, yeah. It’s only when he’s with the guys too much that Mom gets upset. That’s probably what that was about in there.” She looked at her dirty fingernails. “And sometimes