“I happen to like Twinkies.”

Mitch held up a hand. “Snack choices aside—”

“Twinkies are bombs of sugar and fat and preservatives.” Interrupting Mitch, David tried for a pinch at Harper’s waist.

“Cut it out.” But the move, as designed, pushed a little humor through the wall of Harper’s temper.

“Girls,” Mitch said mildly. “To get back to the matter at hand. This is another change of pattern. She’s never, to your knowledge, come into the carriage house, or caused you any particular trouble.” He looked to Harper for confirmation.

“No.” A glance at the photos he’d taken brought back the shock, the fury, and the time it had taken to deal with the destruction. “And this is a hell of a debut.”

“Your mother’s going to have to know about this.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Still steaming, Harper paced to the back door, scowled out at the morning haze. He’d waited, deliberately, until he’d seen his mother head out for her morning run. “I value my life, don’t I? But I wanted us to go over this first, before we bring her into it.” He glanced up at the ceiling, where he imagined Hayley was getting started on the day. “Or any of them.”

“Strategizing to protect the womenfolk?” David said in an exaggerated drawl. “Not that I don’t agree, son, but Roz isn’t going to care for that.” He jerked a thumb toward the ceiling. “She won’t either.”

“I don’t want them going postal over it, that’s all. If we could downplay it some. It was just dishes and kitchen crap.”

“A personal attack, Harper, not on you but on your property, in your home. That’s how it is, and that’s how they’ll see it.” Mitch waved a hand at him before he could speak. “We’ve dealt with worse, all of us, and we’ll deal with this. The important thing is to figure out why it happened.”

“Maybe it’s because she’s crazy,” Harper snapped back. “That might be a small, contributing factor.”

“Takes after his mama when he’s riled up,” David offered. “Mean and stubborn.”

“I’ve noticed. She’s been seen walking in the direction of the carriage house in the past.” Mitch leaned a hip on the table. “You saw her yourselves when you were kids. We can assume she did, at some point in her life, go there. We can assume it was after Reginald Harper brought their love child here to pass him off as his legitimate heir.”

“And we can assume she was crazy as a crack monkey,” David added. “From the way she looked.”

“Yet, from what we know she’s never bothered with the place since Harper’s lived there. How long?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” He shrugged, drummed his fingers on the thighs of his ragged work pants. “Since college. Six, seven years.”

“But she goes in now, destructively. She may be crazy, but there’s a reason. Everything she’s done has a root and a reason. Have you brought anything in there recently? Anything new?”

“Ah, no.” But the idea made him pause and consider instead of stew. “Plants. I rotate plants, but I’ve done that for years. And the usual stuff, you know, groceries, CDs, clothes. Nothing particular or unusual.”

“Anyone?”

“Sorry?”

“Have you had anyone over who hasn’t been there before? A woman?”

“No.”

“Now that’s just sad.” David swung an arm around Harper’s shoulders. “Losing your touch?”

“My touch is still gold. Just been a little busy.”

“And before it happened, you were?”

“Watching the game upstairs in the bedroom, reading. Zonked out, and the next I know it’s crash, boom, bang.”

He heard Lily’s happy call and winced. “Damn it, here they come. Mitch, let’s put those away, put this all away until—”

He broke off, cursing himself for not moving faster, when Lily ran in just ahead of Hayley. She zipped straight for him, all grins and upstretched arms.

“She heard your voice,” Hayley said as he picked Lily up. “Her face just lit.”

“His touch is gold,” David said dryly, “with toddlers.”

“It’s sure her favorite way to start the morning.” She went to the refrigerator for juice, and when she turned with the bottle and Lily’s cup in her hands, spotted the photographs. “What’s all this?”

“It’s nothing. Just a little late-night adventure.”

“Good God, what a mess! You have a party and not invite us?” Then she blinked, and paled as she leaned closer. “Oh. Oh, Amelia. Are you all right? Are you hurt?” She dropped Lily’s cup as she swung toward him. “Harper, did she hurt you?”

“No. No.” He patted the hand she was running over his face, his arm. “It’s just dishes.”

David bent to retrieve the plastic cup, wiggled his eyebrows at Mitch on the way up, and said, “Aha,” under his breath.

“But look at your things.” She snatched up a photo. “Your sweet little kitchen. What is wrong with her? Why does she have to be so damn mean?”

“Being dead probably ticks her off some. I think Lily wants her juice.”

“All right, all right. If it’s not one thing it’s six others with her—Amelia, not Lily. I’m getting fed up.” She poured the juice, secured the lid, then handed it to Lily. “There you are, baby. Just what are we going to do about this?” she demanded as she rounded on Mitch.

“Innocent bystander,” he reminded her and held up his hands.

“We all are, aren’t we? But that doesn’t mean a damn to her, apparently. Bitch.” She sat down, folded her arms.

“Feel better?” David asked her, and poured her some coffee.

“I don’t know what I feel.”

“Just dishes.” Harper settled Lily in her highchair. “And according to David, ugly ones.”

Hayley worked up a smile. “They weren’t too ugly. I’m sorry, Harper.” She touched his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” Roz asked as she came in.

“There’s the bell for round two.” David gestured with the coffeepot. “I think I’ll make crepes.”