Lynn Fletcher's gaze froze. She stared at Mrs. Fletcher in disbelief and murmured, "Mom..."
She had thought Mrs. Fletcher was different from the Fletcher men—that even if she was a snob, she still had a soft side to her.
But she had just been wronged by Mrs. Shaw, and here was Mrs. Fletcher, already eager to bring up Holly Wyatt without any regard for her feelings.
Mrs. Fletcher avoided her gaze, her tone gentle. "Why don't you give her a call? You know how ugly things got when your sister left. We haven't spoken in two years. Your father is too proud to reach out, and you and your sister are close in age, so it's easier for you to talk to her. It's certainly better than your father or I doing it."
Lynn Fletcher gave a self-deprecating smile, hiding the bitterness in her eyes. She answered obediently, "I understand. I'll call my sister in a little while. Is there anything you want me to tell her, Mom?"
