Veiled in Death. Stephanie Blackmoore

look. Rachel giggled and expertly batted it away like the volleyball player she’d been back in high school. But I could tell that even though we had just made light of it, Rachel was ticked to her core that I’d unilaterally invited Pia to an in-person interview. Ticked enough to make a running and annoying joke about the parent-in-waiting gauntlet our mother had thrown down yesterday. I could remain amused as long as this all remained in the realm of jokes and giggles.

      Rachel was usually the more easygoing person in our business, but she had vetted our other three candidates with ruthless efficiency and an eagle eye. I could set aside my annoyance and understand why she wasn’t too thrilled to have Pia sweep in during the eleventh hour. But fate had been kind to me. Our most promising candidate had canceled this morning. She’d been gracious and had not wanted to waste our time as she’d just accepted a job in Pittsburgh. Which left Macy and Simon, who had both aced their interviews. But Rachel couldn’t be mad about Pia, who brought this round of interviews back to the three-candidate number we’d decided upon. I wasn’t going to apologize any longer.

      “Honestly, Rach, I hope Pia works out. Macy told us she plans to commute from Pittsburgh, and Simon seems bitten by the big city bug, too. They’d both do well here, but Pia has no illusions about sleepy small-town life since she grew up in Port Quincy.”

      Rachel batted away my list of reasons with a flick of her acrylics. “I can’t believe you made me call Pia’s references already. That’s a bit premature, Mallory. Just promise, no more big decisions without consulting me.” Rachel was as annoyed as I’d seen her in a long time. It was true we were formal business partners now. But her maudlin pout catapulted me back to when we were decades younger, arguing childishly about the fairness of this or that.

      I rejoindered with an exasperated sigh. “But we called everyone else’s references last week, Rachel. We’re just giving Pia an equal chance. The same as we granted the other candidates.”

      Rachel remained defiantly skeptical. “I’ll withhold judgment until I meet this supposed event-planning Svengali. This job requires finesse and sophistication and excellent communication skills. The young man and the woman we just interviewed were both fantastic and would be immediately helpful to our business.” She flounced back into the loveseat with an unprofessional harrumph and crossed her arms against any apparent rejoinder I’d have. Her sweeping tassel-chandelier earrings swished against her shoulders in silent censure as she shook her head once in my direction. Rachel had partially covered her curve-hugging black catsuit with a pretty khaki jacket and red sky-high heels. Her beachy, caramel waves piled high on top of her head were held in place with rose-gold chopsticks. She’d topped off her look with faux, round red reading glasses with powerless glass lenses. She looked amazing, true to her daring style, yet still professional.

      It wasn’t anything I could pull off, though. I was the more subdued version, my hair less golden, curlier and more unruly, too. I was still pleased with my interview outfit of a peach sundress with a smattering of green leaves, flat espadrilles, and a white linen jacket. Rachel and I were so different, but we complimented each other in every way. I didn’t want to preface Pia’s interview with a sisterly fight.

      It was time to stop convincing Rachel. I was sure Pia was our next assistant. I just hoped Pia could persuade my sister as well. I tried to suppress the smirk I felt forming at the corners of my mouth. “You’ll see, Rach.” I took a delicate swig of my tea.