Allison nearly glanced behind her to see whether another woman had shown up.
Still, she let them inside.
They settled in the living room. Vivian complimented the house. Brooke studied the furniture as though estimating what it might sell for. After twenty minutes of forced sweetness, Vivian reached across the coffee table and clasped Allison’s hands.
“I’ve been thinking,” Vivian said. “Life is too short for distance between family. Brooke and I want to take you on a girls’ trip.”
Allison stared at her. “A trip?”
“To Monarch Cove,” Brooke said. “That five-star island resort near San Diego. Oceanfront suites, cliffside restaurants, private spa. Very healing.”
Allison understood immediately: healing apparently required champagne and first-class seats.
“I’m busy this week,” Allison said. “Evan is out of town, and I have quarterly filings.”
Vivian’s lips tightened, though she quickly composed herself. “That’s exactly why you need rest.”
Brooke leaned closer. “Please, Allison. Evan said you might say no, but he really wants us to bond.”
