Читать книгу Because Of The Twins... - Carole Halston, Carole Halston - Страница 10

“Holly, isn’t this a fabulous turnout!” gloated Ann Johnson, the president of the North Shore Businesswomen Club. “Everyone who bought a raffle ticket must have showed up for the cocktail party and drawing tonight.”

“Not quite everyone,” Holly replied. “I counted the invitation cards I collected at the door. A hundred and seventy-four, and we sold two hundred tickets.”

“At $250 each! That’s $50,000, less expenses, for our scholarship fund.” Ann toasted Holly with her champagne glass. “Here’s to you for coming up with the idea for this year’s fund-raiser. It was sheer genius to tap into our members’ expertise and hold a raffle with multiple prizes like Decorating Consultant for a Week, Girl Friday for a Week, Nanny for a Week. Our ticket buyers loved the novelty of taking a chance on free service by an expert. And at $250, our raffle winners will be getting real bargains.”

“The only glitch was that those who bought tickets from me all had their favorite prize they hoped to win.”

“Same here. A couple of bachelors pointed out they wouldn’t have any use whatever for a nanny. But they were good sports when I explained that we weren’t selling separate tickets. It would be luck of the draw as to who won what.” Ann glanced around, searching the crowd of well-dressed people sipping drinks and munching on canapés. “One of my bachelor ticket buyers was Graham Knight. I don’t see him, and he said he wouldn’t think of missing what he called our ‘annual bash.”’

“No, he’s not here.” Holly sipped her champagne.

“You’ve already noticed our handsome architect’s absence.” Ann pointed out the obvious, her smile teasing. “Do I detect disappointment?”

“If you do, I must be fond of rejection.” Holly’s tone was wry.

“You? Rejected by a red-blooded male? That’s hard to imagine, especially as gorgeous as you look tonight. I love your emerald-green outfit. Oh, Gina’s signaling us. It’s time to hold the raffle.” The club president hurried off.

Holly sighed glumly, touching the shimmering green silk of her dinner suit before she followed in Ann’s wake. The dinner suit was new. She’d bought it especially to wear tonight. Darn it, she’d wanted to look her most “gorgeous” because she expected Graham Knight to be at the fund-raiser party.

A week ago she’d encountered him in the supermarket, of all places, and they’d chatted briefly. The chemistry had sizzled between them, as usual. Holly had bitten her tongue to keep from asking, “Are you busy tonight?” A modern woman, she rejected the old rules that required a guy to ask a woman out and never vice versa. That was nonsense, in her opinion. But Graham had already refused her once before during the past year, when they were working together on a job for a builder. Graham had been the architect and Holly the interior decorator.

So she hadn’t tried to make a date with him in the supermarket. Neither had he tried to make a date with her. But in parting he had referred casually to seeing her at the fund-raiser party. Darn it, Holly was disappointed he hadn’t come.

Which meant she actually must be fond of rejection. Except that all her instincts as a woman told her Graham Knight was every bit as attracted to her as she was to him. What was his hang-up where she was concerned?

The next time I get the chance, I’m going to ask him, Holly promised herself.

The North Shore Businesswomen Club had booked a banquet room at a local hotel for tonight’s party and raffle. A station for the drawing had been set up in advance on a dais at one end of the room. On a draped table sat an elegant flower arrangement, compliments of a florist member, but the focal point of attention as the guests gathered around the dais were two crystal bowls flanking the centerpiece, one containing five small envelopes and the other containing two hundred envelopes of a comparable size.

After a speech, Ann proceeded with the raffle by first introducing the five club members who were either donating their services or that of an employee as prizes. Holly was among them. She would be donating her own skills for the Decorating Consultant for a Week prize.

Next, Ann called for a volunteer to step up and draw two envelopes, one from either bowl. A jovial bald-headed man responded. He first read out the name of the winner, a woman who was present. After the excitement had died down, he revealed her prize in his booming voice, “Nanny for a Week!”

The raffle proceeded with three more volunteers assisting. In order, lucky ticket buyers won Fashion Consultant for a Week, Personal Fitness Trainer for a Week and Girl Friday for a Week. Finally, only one prize envelope remained to be awarded to the winner of Decorating Consultant for a Week.

Holly smiled at her own reaction. Her nerves had tightened with the suspense. Who would win her?

The last volunteer, a matron in pearls who happened to be one of Holly’s wealthier clients, stepped up beside Ann. Holly had sold Gwendolyn Myers her fund-raiser ticket. Gwendolyn dipped a manicured hand into the bowl still filled with envelopes, fished around at length to prolong the drama and eventually plucked out one. Careful of her nails, she opened the envelope and showed the card inside it to Ann, who blinked and cast Holly a surprised look that said, You won’t believe this.

“Shall I read the name?” asked Gwendolyn, getting into her role as though she were an emcee on an awards program.

“Please do,” said Ann, whose expression was amused.

Somebody, read the blasted name, thought Holly, her curiosity thoroughly aroused.

Gwendolyn cleared her throat and intoned, “The final lucky winner of the evening is…Graham Knight.”

Holly’s mouth fell open.

“Is he present tonight?” Gwendolyn was inquiring.

“No, I don’t believe Graham was able to come,” Ann spoke up smoothly. She moved things along and concluded the raffle with another speech while Holly was adjusting to this unexpected development.

“Holly, will you notify Graham Knight? Or would you like for me to?”

“I’ll do it,” Holly replied without hesitation. She and Ann were on their way to their cars and had paused in the parking lot. “I won’t mind having a legitimate excuse to pay him a visit at his office. You probably guessed that from our earlier conversation when his name came up.”

“True,” Ann admitted laughingly. “What a coincidence for him to win you!”

“How well do you know Graham, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Fairly well. Our connection, of course, is Bob.” Bob was Ann’s husband, a prominent builder on the North Shore. “We’ve had Graham over to dinner at our house quite a few times over the past five years. Bob considers him an excellent architect and is always glad to land a project designed by Graham.”

“When he came to dinner, did he bring a date?” Holly was blatantly fishing for information.

“On a couple of occasions he brought a very striking woman he was obviously quite infatuated with. As a matter of fact, she had coloring very similar to yours. Golden-blond hair and blue eyes. And I believe she was an interior decorator, too. Her name has slipped my mind. We’re talking at least four years ago.”

“Hmm, I wonder if she’s still around. I haven’t run into any other decorators who look like me.”

“The relationship apparently didn’t last. Maybe she moved away. It’s my impression that Graham hasn’t been that involved with anyone since. When I quiz him, he always denies having a special woman in his life. He’s such a nice solid guy. I’ve no doubt he’s good husband material.”

“I’m not looking for a husband,” Holly volunteered frankly. “But I enjoy male company, and he’s awfully likable and cute.”

Ann lightly slapped her forehead. “A brain cell just kicked in! Heather. That was Graham’s woman friend’s name. Heather. Holly. Same first initial,” she remarked.

Holly wasn’t acquainted with anyone named Heather.

The two women bade one another good-night. On the way home Holly mulled over the background on Graham’s past love life that Ann had divulged. Maybe he was still carrying a torch for this old girlfriend Heather who bore some outward resemblance to Holly. Maybe he was reminded of Heather everytime he ran into Holly and experienced nostalgia or pain.

It would explain why he kept his distance from Holly when he plainly was drawn to her.

One way or another, Holly intended to solve the mystery. Darn, she wished tomorrow were a weekday instead of Saturday. She guessed she would have to wait until Monday to drop in on Graham at his office and make her announcement. “You lucky man, you won me!”

By then he might have heard through the grapevine. Holly liked the idea of breaking the news personally. It was rather late in the evening for someone—including her—to phone him tonight. She was probably safe. What the heck, Holly thought, I’ll call him tomorrow morning at home and ask him to meet me for coffee.

Graham’s home number was conveniently listed in the phone directory.

Holly waited until nine-thirty to call, figuring that was a decent time to bother him on a Saturday. If she waited too late, she increased her chances of not catching him at home before he went out to run errands or whatever.

He picked up on the second ring and said hello in a tone that was almost a shout. Holly could hear some kind of loud background noise. A TV playing?

“Hi, Graham. This is Holly Beaumont. I have some news I’d like to tell you in person. How about meeting me for coffee at the Breakfast Joint?”

“I wish,” he said with an emotion that seemed to be bitterness.

Were those the voices of children shrieking and wailing?

“Graham, what’s all that racket?”

“What? I can’t hear you, Holly.”

“I said what’s all that racket?” she shouted. “Can’t you turn the TV lower?”

“Hold on. I’ll have to do it manually.”

“Don’t you have a remote?”

“God knows where it is, or whether it’s still functioning. Hold on,” he said again.

About ten seconds later some of the noise subsided, but not the shrieking and wailing. That noise obviously wasn’t coming from the TV.

“Okay. That’s a little better,” he said. “Look, Holly, I’m sorry, but I’m tied up here. Justin, don’t hit your sister. Jennifer, stop kicking Justin.” His pleas, obviously not intended for her ears, held desperation.

“Whose children are those?” Holly asked, having deduced that he was addressing a couple of kids.

“Mine.” The bitterness again.

“Yours? I didn’t know you were a father.”

“Neither did I until yesterday.”

“How old are they?” Holly was as fascinated as she was astonished.

“Three and a half. They’re twins—a girl and a boy.”

“Is their mother there, too?” She hadn’t heard a woman speaking.

“No, she’s deceased. I learned that yesterday, too, from the great-aunt who delivered the children.”

“‘Delivered’ them? You mean she just brought them and left them?”

“You got it.”

“Graham, this is the most bizarre story I’ve ever heard!” Holly exclaimed.

“Tell me about it. Sorry to be abrupt, but I’d better hang up before these two hurt each other.” He said a terse goodbye and cut the connection.

“Poor guy!” she sympathized out loud. “What a predicament!” Holly sat there a few moments, flooded with sympathy and trying to imagine what it would feel like to be in his shoes. One minute a single man with only himself to worry about and the next minute a daddy with twins.

Graham had come across as desperate and downright depressed, understandably. His life had been thrown into a turmoil and he didn’t seem to be coping very well. It would be criminal of Holly to go about her business today and not play Good Samaritan, especially since she’d had quite a bit of experience dealing with children during her teenage years. Baby-sitting had been her main source of extra spending money.

I’ll go over to Graham’s place and help him out for a few hours, Holly decided.

Generosity was her main motivation, but she was also dying of curiosity to meet his offspring!

The decision made, Holly briefly considered calling Graham back and alerting him that he should expect her. Then she scratched that plan and decided simply to appear at his door. Fortunately, she’d been inquisitive enough to note his address when she was stuffing raffle ticket stubs into envelopes for the drawing.

The drive from her house in the village of Madisonville to Graham’s condo near the lake in Mandeville took Holly between fifteen and twenty minutes. At ten o’clock she was ringing his doorbell.

Graham jerked the door open in midact of shoving his free hand through dark brown hair that already was rumpled. He wore a T-shirt tucked into his unbelted jeans, and athletic shoes. Despite the dark circles under his eyes that suggested he hadn’t slept well, despite his harried expression, Holly found him as ruggedly good-looking as ever.

“Holly,” he said blankly. His gaze took in her jeans and T-shirt and athletic shoes. Holly’s body hummed pleasurably in response to his inspection, the way it always did when she was around him.

“Hi. I came to give you some moral support,” she announced cheerfully. “On the phone you sounded pretty rattled.”

“This is hell.” He rubbed his forehead roughly with his palm. “Sheer hell.”

“The TV’s been turned up loud again,” Holly observed. She could hear the soundtrack of a cartoon show blaring inside the condo.

“They insist on playing it loud enough to burst their eardrums. When I turn it down, they turn it back up again.”

“Did you try taking away the remote?”

“Yes. I tried that,” he confirmed wearily. “But they scream and yell like a couple of banshees when they don’t get their way. I’m afraid the neighbors will call the police. So I gave the remote back to them to shut them up.

“God, you should see the inside of my condo. It looks like vandals have struck. I was cleaning up the kitchen when you rang the doorbell. Cereal and milk all over the place. Broken dishes. These two kids are monsters disguised as children, Holly. Monsters.”

“Can I come in? I’ll give you a hand with the kitchen.”

He hesitated before saying, “Sure. But enter at your own risk.”

Even in a state of emergency he had his qualms about admitting her into his condo. Holly ignored her little stab of hurt for the time being. She smiled and stepped inside the foyer, commenting, “Three-and-a-half-year-olds can’t be that dangerous.”

The trained decorator in her automatically noticed and approved the décor of his condo. Mexican tile floor in the foyer gave way to oatmeal-colored carpet in the living area. Soft white walls, striking artwork, glove-soft brown leather upholstery, natural finishes on wooden furniture. Tasteful, comfortable, and masculine.

It was an adult environment. The toys strewn about the living room looked totally out of place as did the two children lying on their stomachs in front of a thirty-six-inch TV housed in a handsome built-in entertainment center. Doors in the entertainment center stood open, drawers were pulled out, videotapes and CDs had been tossed about helter-skelter.

“See what I mean about vandals?” Graham gestured helplessly. “I tried to tell them that I didn’t own any videos or CDs for kids, but they refused to listen.”

“You mind if I ask them to turn the TV down?” she asked.

“You’re wasting your breath. But go ahead.”

Holly walked over to the twins and clapped her hands together smartly to attract their attention. “Justin. Jennifer. The TV’s too loud,” she said. The children looked up at her, taking her measure. It was difficult for Holly to maintain her brisk manner as she gazed into their faces. They were both adorable, the blue-eyed, fair-haired little girl and the brown-haired, brown-eyed little Graham look-alike. “I said, ‘The TV’s too loud.’ It hurts our ears. Turn the volume down.” She mimicked using an imaginary remote control.

Justin held the real remote clutched in both hands. After long seconds of deliberation, he pressed a small finger on the appropriate button.

“Well, I’ll be d—” Graham muttered. He’d followed behind her but stopped a few yards away.

“Lower than that, please,” Holly directed Justin. She smiled at the little boy when he’d reluctantly obeyed. “Thank you. That’s much better. And much safer. Loud noise can damage our eardrums and eventually make us deaf. That’s why workmen running noisy machines wear ear protection.”

“Who are you?” demanded Jennifer, sitting up.

“I’m Holly Beaumont, a friend of your daddy’s.”

The little girl’s face clouded up and her bottom lip trembled. “He’s not our daddy. Our mommy told us we didn’t have a daddy, and I don’t like him.” Tears suddenly welled up, and Jennifer began to cry brokenheartedly. “I w-want my m-mommy to come b-back from heaven. I want to go to my h-house and stay with Mary.”

“Don’t cry, sweetie,” Holly crooned. Her own eyes wet, she sank down beside the distraught child and hugged her.

“I want Mommy to come back. And I want to go to my house,” Justin said, breaking down and sobbing just as pitifully.

Holly gathered him close, too, and murmured reassurances that seemed woefully inadequate in light of the children’s great loss. “Mommy wouldn’t want you to cry like this. She would want you to be happy children. Tell you what. Let’s dry those tears and do something really fun. Okay? How would you like for your daddy and me to take you to a playground?”

Graham had come closer. At his muffled sound of protest, Holly glanced up at him and read panic on his face. He shook his head hard and mouthed, “No way.”

“Why not?” she mouthed back.

“You haven’t ridden with them in a car,” he said in an urgent undertone. “They won’t keep their seat belts fastened. And if you let go of their hands when you’re out in public, they can be gone in a flash. In different directions.”

He obviously spoke from terrifying experience.

“There’re two of us. We can manage,” Holly said confidently.

Meanwhile the children’s sobs had quieted.

“A playground?” questioned Justin with interest, sniffling.

“With seesaws and swings?” Jennifer asked, wiping her wet little cheeks with her palms.

Holly looked pleadingly at Graham, who sighed in capitulation.

“Against all my better judgment,” he said.