The Setup Read Online Free Page A

from spreading. “Meaning you’re next?”
    Renee deliberately ignored the question. “I think this guy’s a pretty good match for you.” She pointed to one of the lines that listed interests. “Look, he likes the same kind of music you do. Hard rock.” She pointed to another line. “And he says here that he likes taking chances.” Renee glanced at the paper to make sure she got the wording right. “Thinks that life is a challenge—”
    “It’s a challenge, all right,” Sylvie couldn’t help murmuring under her breath.
    Sometimes maybe too much of a challenge, she added silently. Growing up, she’d thought that the child had the hard part. Now she knew it was the parent who shouldered the worries and responsibilities. There were times when she wondered how much longer she would be able to go on doing this impossible balancing act. Life seemed to be filled with hundreds of tiny battles and even tinier victories.
    For instance, last night she’d had the first decent sleep in over a week. Daisy Rose was just getting over a bad cold, one that seemed to kick into high gear like clockwork every night after midnight. Last night was the first time in eight days that the little girl had fallen back to sleep after waking up only once.
    Tiny victories, she thought again.
    “A fun challenge,” Renee emphasized, bringing her back to the present.
    Sylvie noticed that Renee had that smile on her lips, the one that used to drive her crazy when they were kids. Not quite superior and just a little smug, as if she was privy to something that younger sisters weren’t allowed to know yet.
    “You do remember fun, don’t you, Sylvie?”
    Sylvie made her way over to the first crate. These paintings weren’t going to take themselves out. “Vaguely.”
    Renee followed her, shaking her head, her point driven home. “See, Sylvie, you’re becoming stodgy.”
    Sylvie pretended to roll her eyes and placed the back of her hand to her forehead. “God forbid I turn into Charlotte.”
    “And just what’s wrong with turning into me?”
    Sylvie and Renee glanced around to see their older sister walking into the gallery through the hotel entrance. Anyone looking at the petite, slender woman with her exotic almond eyes and dark auburn hair would have guessed her to be closer to thirty than forty. All the Marchand women took after their mother and grandmother, both of whom looked to be ten to fifteen years younger than they were.
    “I don’t think I could be that much of a workaholic,” Sylvie replied cheerfully, not missing a beat.
    “It’s an acquired taste,” Charlotte replied dryly. “Besides, that’s what this is all about.” She tappedthe piece of paper that was still in Renee’s hand. “To keep you from becoming another me.”
    Charlotte had her own story. And her own heartbreak. In love with one man, she’d married another on the rebound. She’d tried her best to make a go of a less-than-perfect union, but the marriage was doomed from the start. Charlotte’s husband turned out to have a penchant for romancing anything with a shapely pair of hips and evidently had no intention of giving up his hobby after marriage. Once they were divorced, Charlotte had thrown herself headlong into the family business, and hadn’t come up for air since.
    “If you ask me, you’re the one who should be going out with—” Sylvie paused to read the name at the top of the application. “Mr. Jefferson Lambert.” The line beneath it listed the applicant’s occupation. “Look, he’s a lawyer. That’s perfect for you.”
    But Charlotte shook her head. “Not my type, Sylvie. Says right here he likes performance art, modern painters and hard rock music, which, to me, sounds like a male cat being neutered without benefit of anesthetic.”
    Sylvie crossed her arms before her, amused at the description. Charlotte might look young, but she had the tastes of someone from the previous generation. “You should learn to be more