Читать книгу True Colors - Diana Palmer - Страница 8

AS DAWN STREAMED THROUGH the curtains in Great-Aunt Mary’s immaculate bedroom, Meredith lay drowsily between the clean white sheets of the four-poster bed. She was remembering back. Cy’s cold aloofness, Myrna’s hot accusations, Tony’s confession…She could still feel the sickness as she ran from the Harden house to her Great-Aunt Mary’s. She couldn’t even tell the worried old lady or her great-uncle the truth about what had happened. It was too shameful to share.

She’d packed her bags and gone straight to the bank to withdraw her pitiful savings from her restaurant job. With no clear idea of what she’d do when she got there, she’d bought a one-way bus ticket to Chicago and kissed her worried relatives good-bye before she boarded the Greyhound and said a silent farewell to Cy.

Even then, she’d hoped that he might come after her. Hope died hard, and she was carrying his child. She’d even hoped that Myrna might relent and tell him the truth, because Myrna knew about her pregnancy. The older woman had made that apparent just before Cy came into the room that long-ago morning. But no one came. No one rushed to the bus station to stop her.

The Chicago bus terminal had been unwelcoming, crowded and busy. Clutching her worn suitcase in her hand, Meredith had fought down the instinctive fear of being alone and without visible means of support. There was always the YWCA if everything else failed. She’d find some place. But she felt sick and afraid, and always there was the threat of Myrna pursuing her over that supposedly stolen money.

The first three nights she’d spent at the YMCA in tears, mourning Cy and the life that could have been. But then she’d been told about another place, a Christian home with only a few tenants. She’d decided to try her luck there, hoping for a little more privacy in which to spend her grief without the prying, compassionate eyes of the other downtrodden women at the Y.

She remembered leaving the YWCA, wandering aimlessly down the cracked sidewalk while the cold winter wind whipped her long hair around her thin, pale face. As a few snow flurries touched coldly against her cheeks and eyelids and lips, she wondered what to do next.

Fate took a hand when she stepped off the curb without looking and found herself flat on the pavement, beside a very expensive limousine.

A minute later, a quiet, intelligent face came into focus, a face with deep blue eyes and thin lips, high cheekbones and brownish blond hair.

“Are you all right?” asked a velvety voice. “You’re very pale.”

The voice had what sounded to Meredith like a definite New York accent. She’d heard it often enough in the café when tourists passed through. She smiled. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “I guess I fell.”

The man’s eyes lit up. “I guess you did. But we helped a little, didn’t we, Mr. Smith?”

A second man came into view. This one was a giant with thinning dark hair and big, deep-set green eyes, with an imposing nose in a chiseled face. He was wearing a chauffeur’s uniform. “I couldn’t brake quickly enough,” he said. “But I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

“No,” Meredith said weakly. “I felt faint. I’m pregnant….”

The two men exchanged a speaking glance. “Your husband?” the first man asked. “Is he with you?”

“I don’t have…a husband,” she whispered, and tears sprang to her eyes. “He doesn’t know.”

“Oh, boy.” Henry smoothed back her long, disheveled hair with a gentle hand. “Well, you’d better come with us.”

In her naive way, Meredith equated big black limousines with organized crime. This man was dressed fit to kill, and his driver looked every inch a mobster. She hadn’t run away from one dangerous situation to land herself in another.

“I can’t do that,” she blurted out, her big eyes saying more than she realized as she looked from one of them to the other.

“Will it help if we introduce ourselves?” The thin man smiled. “I’m Henry Tennison. This is Mr. Smith. I’m a legitimate businessman.” He leaned closer, his lazy eyes smiling at her. “We’re not even Italian.”

One look at the humor in his face, and all her apprehension disappeared.

“That’s better. Help me get her in the car, Smith. I think we’re becoming the center of attention.”

Belatedly, Meredith realized they were blocking traffic. Other drivers were making their irritation known with their horns. She allowed herself to be put in the back of the limousine with Henry Tennison while the formidable Mr. Smith stashed her luggage in the trunk.

She looked around her at the luxurious interior of the car. Real leather. Not to mention a bar, a television, a cellular phone, and some odd kind of computer and printer. “You must be worth a fortune,” she said without thinking.

“I am,” Henry mused. “But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I’m a slave to my job.”

“Everything has a price, hasn’t it?” Meredith asked sadly.

“Apparently.” He leaned back and folded his arms as Mr. Smith started the car and pulled into traffic, leaving the loud horns behind. “Tell me about the baby.”

Without knowing why she trusted him implicitly, a man she didn’t even know, she began to talk. She told him about Cy and the beginning of their love affair, her voice quiet and slow as she skipped over the passion to his mother’s interference and her speedy departure in disgrace.

“I guess I must sound like a tramp to you,” she concluded.

“Don’t be absurd,” he said gently. “I’m not an impressionable youth. Is the father going to come after you?”

She shook her head. “He believed his mother.”

“Too bad. Well, you can come home with me for the time being. Don’t worry. I’m not a lecher, even if I am a certified bachelor. I’ll look after you until you find your feet.”

“But, I can’t—”

“We’ll have to get you some clothes,” he said, thinking aloud. “And your hair needs work, too.”

“I haven’t said—”

“Delia, my secretary, can look after you while I’m away. I’ll have her move in, just to keep everything aboveboard. And you’ll need a good obstetrician. I’ll have Delia take care of that, too.”

Meredith caught her breath at the way he was arranging her life. “But—”

“How old are you?”

She swallowed. “Eighteen.”

His eyes narrowed on her thin face. “Eighteen,” he murmured. “A little young, but it will work out.”

“What will work out?”

“Never mind.” He leaned forward, his hands dangling between his knees as he stared straight into her eyes. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” He sat back again. “Do you like quiche?”

“What?”

“Quiche. It’s a kind of French egg pie—Oh, never mind. I’ll show you when we get home.”

Home was a penthouse apartment in one of the most expensive hotels in Chicago. Meredith, who’d never known anything grander than Great-Aunt Mary’s small house, was shocked and delighted at the luxury. She stood in the entrance to the living room and just stared.

“Don’t let it intimidate you,” Henry said, smiling. “You’ll get used to it in no time at all.”

Incredibly, she had. Without quite knowing how, she became Henry Tennison’s possession. She was maneuvered into marriage scant weeks later and shipped out of the country to one of Henry’s houses in the Bahamas, near Nassau. Her name became Kip Tennison. Henry undertook her advanced education in business tactics and strategy, in between natural childbirth classes with a registered nurse he hired to live in and look after Kip. During this time, he anticipated the baby with all the delight of its real father, spoiled his young wife, and seemed to lose twenty years of age as he involved himself with her pregnancy.

She sighed, remembering how it had been. Slowly, she had begun to replace Cy’s face with Henry’s, to trust her husband, to confide in him. She warmed to him. When the baby was born, he was with her at the delivery in Nassau, and as the tiny infant was placed in his arms, tears fell from his eyes.

It was only later that she discovered Henry was sterile, that he could never have a child of his own. It was why he was single at the age of thirty-eight—why he’d never asked anyone to marry him until Meredith came along. But fatherhood seemed to come naturally to him, and he treated Blake as if the infant were his own blood child.

In all the months they’d waited for Blake, he’d never touched Meredith. She wouldn’t have refused him. He was kinder to her than anyone had ever been. He worshiped her, and slowly she began to return his warm affection, to look forward to their time together.

Then, almost inevitably, he came to her one night. It was as if there had never been a woman, he told her softly while he loved her. And while it wasn’t the intense passion she’d shared with Cy, it wasn’t at all unpleasant. Because Henry loved her, she was able to indulge him. He was a tender, expert lover, and she felt no revulsion at being touched by him. And if he ever suspected that, with her eyes closed, she sometimes thought of Cy as she gave herself to him, he never said so. They were compatible. They got along well together, with mutual respect and affection, and Blake was their world.

It had all fallen apart the day Henry left on a business trip and his plane crashed into the Atlantic. Meredith had felt something with him the night before that she hadn’t experienced in their marriage. A merging, a oneness, that left her sobbing in his arms afterward. For the first time, she’d curled into his body and refused to let go. She was glad about that, when the news came. She’d finally told him that she loved him. If he’d lived…

She sat at the funeral with anguish in her eyes, and even her brother-in-law, Don, who’d been so distant with her, softened as he realized how genuine her grief was.

Henry was gone. But he’d been a good tutor, and Meredith had been an excellent student. She didn’t stop learning after he died and left her with control of the domestic operation. Possessed already of a keen, intuitive mind, she found the give and take of negotiating right up her alley. In her first month, she astounded the corporate directors with her ability to size up a potential acquisition and land it with a minimum of fuss. Despite their initial desire to kick her out, the directors became her greatest fans—to the chagrin of Henry’s brother, who was secretly nurturing a jealous resentment of Meredith’s power that grew by the day.

Unaware of that resentment, Meredith barreled through business like a velvet bulldozer. She was enjoying power for the first time in her life and loving her job as mother to Blake. All the while, as Meredith grew in strength, she never stopped thinking about Cy Harden and his venomous mother. Don had been right about one thing. Her interest in Harden Properties went far beyond mineral rights acquisitions. She wanted to back Cy into a corner and cut him to ribbons, while his arrogant mother stood by helplessly and watched. She wanted Myrna Harden to suffer along with her son. Meredith was so far gone with regard to the Hardens that revenge was the only thing that registered. Whether Don liked it or not—and of course, he didn’t—she wasn’t leaving Billings until she had the Hardens on their knees, no matter what it took to get them there.

She got up and dressed, taking time to pour herself a cup of coffee before she left the house. Mrs. Dade didn’t like her employees having breakfast on her time. She was a good boss, and a fair one, for all that.

The phone rang and Meredith yawned lazily as she answered it.

“Good, you’re home,” Mr. Smith said. “Don had me fly out with those Jordan papers for your signature. He said express mail was too slow. I’ll be with you in five minutes.”

“All right.” She hung up, surprised. It wasn’t like Don to send the corporate jet just for some routine papers. Perhaps the merger was more complicated than she’d realized.

She met Mr. Smith at the door with a cup of strong black coffee. He grinned as he took it.

“Here.” He handed her the papers, then produced in short order her computer and printer, the fax machine, and boxes of paper. Meredith had him put them in the library, which she then locked.

“Now, I’ve no excuse not to work.” She laughed, having only just realized how free she’d been until that dreaded equipment arrived. “How’s Blake?” she asked.

“Fine. I left him with Perlie just for the morning. I’ll be back before he misses me. I brought you this, too.” He handed her a case of fresh orange juice. “You’ll need plenty of vitamin C to help you build back up.”

She laughed. “Well, I guess this qualifies as necessary equipment.”

“Essential, if you’re going to live in Billings for a while.” He sipped coffee while she signed documents. “Heard from Harden?”

“Not today. He and his mother had dinner at the restaurant last night.”

“How’s it going?” he asked.

She glanced at him ruefully. “It’s painful. But I expect the end result will be worth it.”

His green eyes narrowed as they scanned her face. “Don’t get caught again. Mr. Tennison wouldn’t like having you hurt twice.”

She smiled at him, remembering how Henry had cosseted her. Mr. Smith did, too. It was almost like having Henry back again when Mr. Smith was around. “You’re good to me, Mr. Smith,” she said.

He looked uncomfortable and averted his eyes. “No trouble to be good to someone like you. Sign those papers, please, so I can get out of here. Your brother-in-law was impatient to get the merger finished.”

“So I see.” She took her time reading the documents, suspicious at Don’s eagerness. But the papers were just routine, no surprises. She didn’t understand why it was so urgent. Then it occurred to her that Don was literally taking the merger out of her hands, and it all made sense. He was showing her up.

“You look worried,” Mr. Smith remarked.

She shrugged as she handed the papers back. “I never credited Don with one-upmanship.”

“Competition runs in the Tennison clan.”

“Yes. Funny that I didn’t realize it before, isn’t it?”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” he replied noncommittally. “Don’t sweat it. Maybe the boss is just trying to give you a hand. God knows you could use one sometimes. You push yourself too hard.”

“Do I?” she mused.

“Too many long hours, too much time on the run. You’re several pounds light.”

She grinned. “Send me down to the gym and build me up, then.”

“Wish I could. Can’t keep you still long enough.” He went to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “Watch your back. It gets dangerous up in the high altitudes.”

“I have noticed that,” she agreed.

Mr. Smith opened the door and walked out onto the porch, idly noting a car that hesitated as it passed the house. Nosy neighbors, he thought mockingly, motioning to the cabdriver.

“I’ll phone you tonight,” she said. “Tell Blake I love him.”

“He knows that.”

“It never hurts to tell him, all the same.”

He grinned and got into the cab. “Okay.”

Meredith watched the cab drive away. Mr. Smith was like family. When he was gone, she was alone again. Just like old times, she thought as she turned back into the house.

The knock on the door ten minutes later startled her. Perhaps Mr. Smith had forgotten something, she thought as she went to answer it.

Meredith opened the door to an unexpected visitor. Myrna Harden stood rigidly on her doorstep, dressed in black, her thin, pinched face hard with contempt and repugnance.

“I’ve been expecting you,” Meredith said with icy calm. “Come in.”

Myrna walked into the house, looking around with disdain. She took the best of the living room chairs and crossed her elegant legs, her purse clutched tightly on her lap.

“I’ll come straight to the point,” she said primly, producing a check. She held it out to Meredith. “That should make it worth your while to leave Billings for good.”

Meredith didn’t take it. She smiled vacantly. “Would you like coffee?”

“Thank you, no,” Myrna said stiffly. She waved the check. “It’s for ten thousand dollars,” she announced. “Take it and go away.”

Meredith eased down onto the sofa and crossed her jean-clad legs comfortably. “I went away, once.”

“Why didn’t you stay?” Myrna’s face stiffened even more. “What do you want? My son doesn’t care about you! He never did, or he’d have gone after you, surely you must realize that?” she demanded in an almost frantic high-pitched tone.

Yes, of course Meredith realized it, and almost winced at the old pain. “My great-aunt died,” she said with dignity.

Myrna’s inherent good manners flinched at the reminder. “I did know that. I’m sorry. But you must have been offered something for the house….”

“I don’t want to sell the house. It has pleasant memories for me. I don’t want to leave Billings just yet, either,” she added quietly, and some of the steely makeup Henry had taught her was coming into play. She looked straight into Myrna’s eyes, her posture open and threatening, her face giving away no weaknesses. “It will take more than ten thousand to get me out of Billings. It will take more than you’ve got.”

Myrna gasped. “You arrogant backwoods brat!”

“No name calling, if you please,” Meredith said easily. She studied the lined face without haste. “You haven’t worn well, have you? I’m not surprised. The guilt must have been terrible at times.”

Myrna actually paled. She clenched her purse tightly. “I don’t feel guilt.”

“You lied to your son, falsely accused me, cost me my home at a time when I desperately needed it…you don’t feel guilt for any of that?”

“You were a child, playing games,” Myrna rasped.

“I was a woman, deeply in love and pregnant with your grandchild,” Meredith said, the words delivered with the precision of a merciless scalpel. “You lied,” she accused, her eyes contemptuous.

“I had to,” Myrna cried. “I couldn’t let my son marry someone like you!”

“You never told Cy the truth, did you?” Meredith persisted.

Myrna swallowed. “I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars.”

“Tell him the truth.”

“Never!”

“That’s my price,” Meredith said, rising. “Tell Cy what you did to me, and I’ll go without a penny.”

The older woman looked frail. Damaged. She stood up, her lips trembling. “I can’t do that,” she said, shaken.

“You’ll wish you had, before I’m through,” Meredith said, her eyes as cold as Henry Tennison’s had ever been. “Did you really think you were going to get away with it forever?”

Myrna dug out a handkerchief with trembling fingers and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. She looked pasty. “Abortions are easy these days,” she said. “I gave you enough for one. I gave you enough to go away.”

“And I had it sent back to you, along with all Cy’s gifts, didn’t I?” Meredith challenged.

Myrna squirmed, but she didn’t answer.

“You told Cy I’d robbed the company of thousands, Tony and I. You had Tony tell him that we’d been lovers, that I’d betrayed him.”

“It was the only way I could get rid of you. He wouldn’t have let you go if I hadn’t. He was obsessed with you!”

Meredith laughed bitterly. “Obsessed, yes. But that was all. He didn’t love me. If he had, you and all your plotting wouldn’t have made the slightest difference.”

Satisfaction smoldered in Myrna’s eyes. “So you know that, do you?”

Meredith nodded, the heat building in her body from a temper suppressed too long. “I was naive, all right. I didn’t realize just how naive until you shot me out of here.”

“You haven’t fared badly, have you?” Myrna asked stiffly. “You look well. You’re still young.”

“There was a baby, Myrna.”

“Yes.” Myrna moved closer, her eyes calculating. “Did you have it? Did you put it up for adoption? I’ll give you anything. Cy never has to know. The baby will want for nothing!”

Meredith looked at the older woman incredulously. “Suppose someone had made you that offer when you were carrying Cy?”

Something happened in Myrna’s eyes. An expression came into them that Meredith had never seen there. An uncertainty. An anguish.

“All these years…You never knew where I was, or what I had to do to take care of myself, and you didn’t care,” Meredith said. “Now you waltz into my home and try to blackmail me out of town. You even have the audacity to try to buy a grandchild you didn’t give a damn about six years ago.”

“That isn’t true,” Myrna said, lowering her eyes. “I…tried to trace you.”

“Because you felt guilty about letting a Harden be put up for adoption?” Meredith said with a mocking smile when the older woman flushed guiltily. “Just as I thought.”

“You put him up for adoption, didn’t you?” Myrna persisted. “We could still find him. Or her. Which is it?”

“That’s something you can wonder about to your heart’s content,” Meredith said. “Whether I had an abortion, whether I had the baby and put it up for adoption, all of it. And you can take your offer of money with you. I’m afraid I still can’t be bought.” Meredith stood up.

Myrna rose from her chair looking nervous and shaken. “Everyone has a price,” she said. “Even you.”

“Oh, that’s true enough,” Meredith agreed. “But then, you know what my price is, don’t you?”

The older woman started to speak, but Meredith opened the door in a way that was more than a suggestion that she leave.

Myrna stopped in the doorway. “Your male visitor was very formidable, wasn’t he?” she asked. “Are you living with him?”

Meredith couldn’t find an answer fast enough. Myrna smiled venomously. “I’m sure Cy will be interested to hear that he’s been replaced in your affections. Good day.”

There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do, that would stop Myrna from taking news of Mr. Smith’s visit home to Cy. Not that she cared, really, she told herself. It would only fortify his opinion of her. Probably he couldn’t have a worse one. He’d accused her of being unfaithful many times, not just with Tony. Myrna Harden had said she was sleeping with Tony, and Tony had been paid not to deny it. Cy had thought of her as a tramp. She had no reason to suppose his attitude had changed over the years.

She went to work, and fortunately it was a busy day. She didn’t have to think. But dinner brought Cy back for the second night in a row, and his whole posture spelled trouble.

“May I get you something to drink?” she asked politely with carefully schooled features and a blank smile.

Cy’s dark eyes stared back at her from a face like a wall. “Who was the man your neighbor saw leaving your house early this morning?”

“It wasn’t a neighbor,” she replied carelessly. “It was your mother.”

He scowled. Apparently Myrna hadn’t shared her visit with him. Meredith smiled.

“Didn’t she tell you she came to see me? Pity. She offered me ten thousand dollars to leave town.”

“That’s a lie,” he said coldly.

She shrugged. “Okay. What would you like to eat?”

His face hardened. “My mother doesn’t need to pay you to leave town. I can get rid of you whenever I like.”

“Can you really?” she asked with genuine interest. “It would be fascinating to watch you try.”

“You don’t believe it?” His smile was calculating. “For instance, I could buy the mortgage on your aunt’s house and foreclose.”

“The house doesn’t have a mortgage,” she said easily. And it didn’t. Henry had paid it off, anonymously, through a Realty company in Illinois.

Cy was surprised. Something niggled at the back of his mind for just an instant before he dismissed it. “I could fire you.”

“I can get another job,” she said. “Even you can’t control quite every business in Billings. I seem to remember that you used to have enemies. I could go to one of them for work.”

His eyes flashed. “Try it.”

“Why don’t you ask your mother why she wants me to leave?” she asked quietly.

“I know why. She thinks you’ll worm your way into my life again and leave me bleeding, like you did years ago.”

She laughed softly. “You don’t bleed,” she said huskily. “If you did, it would be pure gold, or silver.”

“You cheated on me and helped another man steal from me. You’re the one who might bleed money, not me.”

“Think so?” The pain and anguish of the past contorted her features, made her eyes darker. “What you and your mother did to me didn’t count?”

“We did nothing to you,” he said tersely. “Although we could have. I could have sent you to prison for that theft.”

She shook her head. “Because a good attorney would have cut Tony to pieces on the witness stand. Where is the dear boy now?”

“I don’t know,” he said coldly.

“Don’t know, and don’t care.” She nodded. “Well, that’s too bad. I liked Tony, despite what he and your mother did to my life.”

“My mother did nothing to you!”

Her gaze was level and unflinching. “Nothing?” She leaned forward. “Ask her. I dare you. Ask her why I’m here, why I won’t leave. Ask her for the truth.”

His eyes glittered. “I know the truth. Don’t push me. You’re only here on sufferance.” He threw down his napkin and got up, towering over her. “You won’t find me as vulnerable this time.”

“The reverse is also true,” she said quietly. “And you can tell your mother that my price is now beyond her pocket.”

“Careful, honey,” he said softly. “You’re on my home ground now, and I fight to win.”

“Then you’d better start polishing your sword, big man,” she replied. “Because this time you’re going to have to make the first cut count. Have a nice evening.”

She turned and walked over to the next table without batting an eyelash.