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instead of leaving well enough alone, Diane dropped her handbag on the sofa, walked over to the end table, and leaned over to unplug the offending lamp.
    â€œLeave it be, Diane,” Bernadine gritted out.
    Diane stopped in mid reach and slowly straightened. “I’m just trying to help.”
    â€œThanks, but I don’t need it.”
    â€œWell, okay then,” she replied, looking wounded. She took a seat on the sofa.
    Bernadine blew out a breath. And so it begins. She’d always wanted a sisterly relationship with Diane, but it never worked out that way. Although Bernadine had refused to deal with the reality while growing up, she could now admit that her mother had favored Diane over both Bernadine and her now late sister Cecily. Diane had been the pretty one, the head cheerleader, the one with the Sweet Sixteen party. Had it not been for her father’s tender loving care, Bernadine would’ve gone through her formative years feeling like an unwanted changeling left on the doorstep. When her mother complained about the difficulties inherent in shopping for her overweight eldest daughter (who just so happened to look exactly like her), or allowed Diane to make snide remarks about Bernadine’s size and dark skin, her dad Emery would stick his head in her bedroom door and say, “Always remember two things, Dina—you’re pretty, and you’re smart. The grass outside’s got more brains than your mother and sister combined.”
    â€œIn spite of the bad layout of your house, it’s rather nice,” Diane said, breaking into Bernadine’s reverie.
    â€œThanks. I think so, too.” Bernadine took a seat in the blue armchair. “So, what brings you here again?”
    Diane waved off the remark. “Harmon and I are having an addition put on the house. A solarium.”
    â€œAh.”
    â€œSo I thought I’d come visit you, since I haven’t seen you since the divorce. How is Leo, by the way?”
    â€œNo idea.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œWhy would I keep tabs on a man I divorced?”
    Diane shrugged. “I don’t know—maybe for sentimental reasons. All that money, I’d be trying to get him back.”
    â€œI don’t want him back, Diane. I caught the man screwing his secretary in his office when he was supposed to be meeting me for lunch—on my birthday.”
    â€œIt’s Diana now, remember?”
    â€œOh, right. I forgot.” In high school, she’d decided to rename herself Diana, much as Diane Ross of Motown’s Supremes had. Well, so much for small talk . “Are you hungry?”
    â€œFamished.”
    â€œOkay, let’s go get some food. My treat.”
    â€œI should hope so, since you’re the hostess. Do you have someone to take my bags to the guest room?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNo servants?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDidn’t you get a fortune from Leo?”
    â€œYes, but why would I need servants?”
    â€œBecause you’re rich now, Bernadine, and rich women always have them. Good grief, who’s advising you?”
    Bernadine knew from the moment her sister called that this visit wasn’t going to go well, and it was already on its way straight to hell. “The guest room is down that hallway. We can move you in when we get back.”
    Diane replied with an impatient, “Fine. Where’s your powder room?”
    Bernadine gave her directions, and while Diane was gone, she picked up her keys and purse. She also prayed for strength.
    On their walk out to the garage, Diane’s steps slowed upon seeing Bernadine’s Baby. “We’re going to lunch in a truck?”
    â€œYep. Get in.”
    â€œWhere’s your driver?”
    â€œHome by now.” Bernadine made herself comfortable behind the steering wheel.
    A huffing Diane settled into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Smiling inwardly, Bernadine started the engine, backed