Hands On by Debbi Rawlins

two.” Mary Jane’s voice startled them. She’d poked her head out of the dining room. “We’re waiting dinner on you.”
    â€œSorry,” Cassie muttered and exchanged one lastlook with Dalton before leading the way back down the hall.
    â€œHave you two been arguing?” Mary Jane asked as they all sat down at the table.
    Mary Jane gestured Dalton to the empty seat beside her, so Cassie took the only other available chair next to Harvey. The way he grinned at her made her skin crawl.
    â€œNope.” Dalton smiled. “I’m a lover not a fighter.”
    Cassie rolled her gaze heavenward.
    Mary Jane giggled. “Good. You all are supposed to be reconnecting, not arguing.”
    â€œI’m ready to do some connecting,” Harvey said to no one in particular, and Cassie felt something hit her leg.
    Pretty sure it was Harvey’s hand, she shifted her knees in the other direction.
    â€œYes, Harvey, we all know about you,” Simone said in a bored voice. “I need another martini.”
    â€œTasha will be bringing in the soup at any moment. Ah, here she is.”
    A short, stocky dark-haired woman with thick nylons and black shoes that resembled combat boots came through the swinging doors carrying a large ceramic tureen. Her gruff expression didn’t waver as she set the soup on the buffet against the wall.
    â€œI don’t want any soup. I want a martini. Grant?” Simone gave her husband an expectant look.
    â€œWe’re going to have wine in a minute, Simone, just hold on.”
    She stiffened, her gaze throwing daggers at her husband. “I don’t want to have to ask you again.”
    Silence saturated the room while the couple dueled with their eyes. Finally, Grant muttered a curse and got up from the table and headed for the parlor.
    Tasha paid no attention. She ladled what looked like a borsht into bowls and set one before each person.
    â€œSimone.” Mary Jane’s voice was surprisingly stern.
    â€œYou’re not a rookie at this. You know better. This is not the way to start off the week.”
    â€œShut up, Mary Jane. Easy for you to say. It’s obvious you already have designs on him.” She glanced at Dalton and then drained the last few drops of her martini.
    Mary Jane turned redder than a tomato. “Simone, I think perhaps you’ve had enough to drink.”
    The older woman looked as if she were about to bite off Mary Jane’s head, but then backed off and stared at her plate.
    Odd. Really odd. Cassie had missed something. She’d have made a sizable bet that Simone would never have deferred to the younger woman. Dalton seemed a little puzzled, too, so at least it wasn’t her imagination.
    Mary Jane smiled brightly at the others. “You’re going to love this cabbage soup. It’s a borsht, kind of sweet and sour. It’s a favorite here.”
    While Tasha finished serving, the silence grew thick and awkward. Cassie seized the moment. “Mary Jane,I noticed there are some Brigadoon roses out by the pool.”
    The other woman wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know anything about flowers.”
    â€œOh, I had a question about them. You have a gardener, I assume?”
    â€œMr. Hamada comes three days a week, but I’m afraid he doesn’t speak English.”
    Cassie sighed, forcing herself not to look at Dalton. “Oh, too bad.”
    â€œIs that really cabbage?” Tom’s tone of disgust drew everyone’s attention. “Why is it a funny color?”
    â€œTom.” Kathy laid a hand on her husband’s arm.
    He made a face at the soup again, but said nothing more.
    Grant returned with Simone’s drink and she smiled up at him as she took the glass. “You need to take lessons from Tom here. He knows when to shut up.”
    Mary Jane reached across Dalton and grabbed the martini, splashing some of it on the white tablecloth. “Enough,