“I don’t have an accent.”

“Okay. Except you do.”

“It’s not that bad,” Maddie said quickly when Tara opened her mouth.

“Oh, it’s bad,” Chloe said. “You sounds like Susan Sarandon in Bull Durham.”

“The inn,” Maddie clarified. “I meant the inn isn’t so bad.”

“I’ve stayed in hostels in Bolivia that looked like the Ritz compared to this,” Chloe said.

“Mom’s mom and her third husband ran this place.” Tara ran a finger along the banister, then eyed the dust on the pad of her finger. “Years and years ago.”

“So Grandma ran through men, too?” Chloe asked. “Jeez, it’s like we’re destined to be man-eaters.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tara murmured, indeed sounding like Susan Sarandon.

Chloe grinned. “Admit it, our gene pool could use some chlorine.”

“As I was saying,” Tara said when Maddie laughed. “Grandma worked here, and when she died, Mom attempted to take over but got overwhelmed.”

Maddie was mesmerized by this piece of her past. She’d never even heard of this place. As far as she knew, none of them had kept in regular contact with Phoebe. This was mostly because their mother had spent much of her life out of contact with anything other than her own whimsy.

Not that she’d been a bad person. By all accounts, she’d been a sweet, free-loving flower child. But she hadn’t been the greatest at taking care of things like cars, bank accounts… her daughters. “I wasn’t even aware that Mom had been close to her parents.”

“They died a long time ago.” Tara turned back, watching Chloe climb the stairs. “Don’t go up there, sugar. It’s far too dusty; you’ll aggravate your asthma.”

“I’m already aggravated, and not by my asthma.” But Chloe pulled the neckline of her shirt over her mouth. She also kept going up the stairs, and Tara just shook her head.

“Why do I bother?” Tara moved into the kitchen and went still at the condition of it. “Formica countertops,” she said as if she’d discovered asbestos.