Читать книгу Cinderella Story - Elizabeth August - Страница 7

“The end is near,” the lanky, white-haired, eighty-five-year-old man propped up by pillows in the large four-poster bed announced with conviction. “I can feel death breathing down on my neck.”

Alex studied his grandfather’s lined, weather-worn features with concern. He wasn’t accustomed to seeing William Bennett pale and weak. “You should be in a hospital.”

“I ain’t goin’ no place. When you’ve got as much money as I have, the doctors come to you.” The frown on the old man’s face deepened. “But there are things money can’t buy. I’d hoped to bounce a great-grandchild on my knee before I went to those oil fields in the sky, but that doesn’t seem likely now. However, I’d die a happy man if I knew you’d, at least, found yourself a wife. You’re thirty-seven. A man should be putting down roots at that age.”

“We Bennett men don’t have much luck at finding women whose roots take hold,” Alex reminded him.

The old man scowled. “Be that as it may. Your dad and I both tried. If we hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here today. You need an heir, boy. When I’m gone you’ll be the last of our line.”

Alex had been certain the old man was too ornery to die. At twelve, William had gone to work in the oil fields, learning the business from the bottom up. He was tough as leather and had the determination of a bull with a purpose. It had been by sheer grit, willpower and the sweat of his brow that he’d held his fledgling drilling company together until they’d hit their first oil well some sixty years ago.

The muscles in Alex’s throat constricted. William Bennett was the only real family he had. He’d raised Alex and taught him all he knew about the oil business. The day Alex turned twenty-one, William had made him a full partner. He loved the old man and hated to feel he’d let him down in any way. A small lie couldn’t hurt, he reasoned. “I have found someone.”

William Bennett’s eyes, jade green like those of his grandson, flashed with pleasure. “You have?”

“She’s got raven hair…so black it shines in candlelight. Her eyes are hazel with tiny gold flecks.” Startled, Alex realized he was describing the woman he’d encountered more than three weeks earlier at Randi Howell’s nonwedding. Grudgingly, he admitted she’d haunted his dreams that night. The next day, he’d thought he’d seen her on the street, but when he’d caught up with the woman he’d thought was her, he realized his mistake. He’d felt like an idiot. He’d made it a practice never to get too interested in any woman.

Still, after the incident on the street, he’d made an attempt to find her, but no one he asked knew a Nina who fitted her description. Then he’d had to leave Grand Springs on business and had only been back once, just long enough to attend Olivia Stuart’s funeral. He’d thought he’d put the dark-haired Nina out of his mind. Apparently, he hadn’t.

“Sounds very tempting,” William said.

“She is,” Alex admitted, recalling how much he’d wanted to taste her lips.

“I want to meet her.”

“She doesn’t live here in Denver. She lives in Grand Springs.” Even as he said this, Alex had his doubts. His inability to find anyone who knew her had caused him to come very close to concluding that she had merely been in town for the wedding…probably a school chum of the bride. The only thing keeping him from being absolutely certain of this was the nagging feeling that there had been something familiar about her. As a part-time resident of Grand Springs, he only attended a few social functions a year there. It was possible he’d seen her across a room but never spoken to her. Again her face haunted him. Had she been with someone, and that was why he hadn’t approached her one of those other times he’d seen her? It occurred to him that she might already be spoken for and had only been alone the night of the wedding because the man in her life couldn’t attend or they’d had a lover’s quarrel. An emotional attachment to another man would explain her sudden flight. This thought caused a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Grand Springs. That’s that town where your school buddy, Noah…something or other…” William said, jerking Alex’s attention back to his grandfather.

“Noah Howell,” Alex said, filling in the blank and marveling at how completely his mysterious black-haired woman could take over his mind.

“Noah Howell, the doctor. Right. That’s where you built that vacation place you run away to when you want to get off by yourself. And you donated some money to a children’s wing for their hospital there, didn’t you?”

“That’s the place.”

William nodded, satisfied he knew the locale about which they were speaking. “Have you two set a date?”

“Not yet,” Alex hedged.

“I hope you don’t plan to wait long. No sense in cooling your heels. That ain’t going to get you heirs.”

“I’m sure we’ll set the date soon.” Alex didn’t like the way this lie was escalating, but he didn’t see any way to stop it, short of disappointing the old man.

“I probably won’t live to see the wedding, anyway.” William sighed heavily and grasped Alex’s hand. “Bring her here. I want to meet her before I meet my Maker.”

Mentally Alex kicked himself. He should have known the old man would make this request. “I’m not too sure she can get away.”

“Persuade her,” William insisted. He tried to rise, then sank back. “Otherwise, I’m going to get to Grand Springs on a gurney if I have to. I want to meet my future granddaughter-in-law.”

Alex read the determination in his grandfather’s eyes. There was no stopping William Bennett once he set his mind to something. “All right, I will,” he promised.

William smiled triumphantly. “Well, get cracking,” he ordered.

* * *

As Alex drove back to Grand Springs, the scowl on his face deepened with each mile. He didn’t like lying to his grandfather. On the other hand, seeking this Nina out and enlisting her aid wasn’t a bad idea. That he could close his eyes and actually feel her in his arms made him uneasy. No other woman had ever had such a lasting effect on him. He was certain it was merely a residual effect induced by the strangeness of that night. But she had disturbed his peace of mind. However, once he found her, she would no longer be a mystery woman and he’d no longer be haunted by her.

He’d offer to pay her to play his fiancée for a couple of days. A sudden worry that she wouldn’t cooperate crossed his mind. A cynical smirk distorted his features. Any woman could be bought for the right price.

* * *

“What you did to Mr. Alex was unconscionable,” Matilda Hastings scolded. Knowing the old man was up to something, she’d remained in a far corner of the room during his grandson’s visit. William, she knew, had allowed her presence because her hovering over him had made him seem even more ill. Now, returning from seeing Alex off, she approached William Bennett’s bed. Coming to a halt beside it, the fifty-seven-year-old, short, plump woman, her auburn hair dulled by strands of gray, stood, her arms akimbo, frowning reprovingly. “I helped you raise that boy, first as his nanny and then staying on as your housekeeper. I know how much he loves and admires you. He must have made me swear a dozen times that I’d let him know if there was any change in your condition, and I’m to see that the doctor comes both morning and night to check on you. He’s heartsick thinking you’re dying.”

William shrugged. “We’re all dying from the day we’re born. It’s the cycle of nature.”

The frown on Matilda’s face darkened even more. “But you are not currently in any danger of meeting your Maker. We both know you’re going to live to be a hundred. You’re just exhausted from staying day and night at that last drill site until oil was struck.”

William drew in a robust breath and smiled broadly. “You don’t understand the invigorating smell of fresh crude.”

Matilda crinkled her nose. “You’re right, I don’t.”

“As for my grandson, it’s time he married and sired an heir or two.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that he simply hasn’t met the right woman?”

William suddenly frowned. “I’m not so sure that there is a ‘right woman’ for us Bennett men. Our luck in that area doesn’t run too good. But he needs a wife at least long enough to give him a child.” His frown turned to a speculative smile. “This should light a fire under his feet. And, if there is a female like the one he described, I’m going to enjoy meeting her.”

“Or maybe he’ll rush into something you’ll both regret,” Matilda warned. “There are mistakes and then there are mistakes. Remember the one his daddy made.”

William’s smile faded. “I hadn’t thought of that. We’ll have to keep a close eye on the boy.”

Matilda issued a loud snort. “I’d find me another job and leave you to your own devices except that you’d never find anyone else who’d put up with you. Besides, someone has to stay and look out for Mr. Alex.”

* * *

It was late into the night by the time Alex arrived at his home outside of Grand Springs. The two-story, sprawling log structure sat on a mountainside in the midst of several acres of wilderness. The back faced a vast lake. He’d had it built large enough to house guests comfortably, figuring it would be a good place to bring business associates he wanted to soften up or impress. But once it was finished, he’d kept it as a private retreat.

Glancing at the pile of newspapers Roberta Nyes, his cleaning lady, had left on the hall table, he frowned. According to the latest headline, the murderer of Olivia Stuart had not yet been found, nor did the police seem to have any definite suspects.

He recalled the funeral. Olivia had been mayor of Grand Springs. He’d met her at various fund-raisers Noah had dragged him to. After learning of all she’d done and was trying to do for the town, he’d grown to admire her. Out of respect, he’d made a special effort to attend the service. It had been a strained affair. Her daughter, Eve, and son, Hal, had delivered eulogies. As she spoke, Eve’s voice had broken and tears had trickled down her cheeks. Hal had seemed more in shock than in sorrow, but then everyone handled death in different ways. Besides, having one’s mother murdered would shake anyone up. And to have been left standing at the altar on the same night as his mother’s death had to have been a double whammy.

“Women. From the very beginning of time, they’ve been nothing but trouble,” Alex muttered. A grudging grimace played across his face. Even as he’d tried to concentrate on the funeral rites, he’d found himself surveying the assembly, looking for the dark-haired, hazel-eyed woman from the night of the storm.

His jaw firmed. It was definitely time he sought out this Nina person and got her out of his system once and for all.

* * *

Nina Lindstrom sat on the side of her son Tommy’s bed and smiled encouragingly down at his pale face. “We’re going to meet Dr. Genkins at the hospital tomorrow. He’s going to find out why you’re feeling tired and dizzy lately and make it all better.” Silently she said a prayer that this would be the case.

The towheaded, hazel-eyed six-year-old had always been an active child, constantly getting into things and squirming when made to sit too long. When he’d begun to slow down a couple of months ago, both she and her in-laws had attributed his behavior to the maturing process. But lately they’d begun to worry. When he’d started complaining about being dizzy, she’d called Dr. Genkins.

A preliminary examination had shown nothing serious, and the pediatrician had hypothesized that Tommy could be having some fluid build-up in the inner ear. He’d prescribed a mild antihistamine. But the dizzy spells had continued to grow worse. Now Tommy swayed when he walked, and she’d noticed he was dropping things more than usual. She kissed him lightly on the forehead. “Now, you go to sleep and get your rest.”

His mouth tightened and his jaw tensed. She recognized his brave face, the one he used when he was scared but didn’t want to admit it. “I’ll be with you all of the time,” she promised.

His jaw relaxed and she kissed his cheek. “Sleep tight,” she said, rising.

Moving to the second bed in the room, she looked down at the sturdy little dark-haired, blue-eyed four-year-old boy there. “You get some sleep, too, Peter.” Ruffling his hair, she kissed him good night.

“Tommy be well soon?” he asked worriedly.

“Yes, soon,” she promised. She needed to hear herself say the words to bolster her own courage. She’d heard the concern in Dr. Genkins’s voice when she’d called about Tommy’s increasing symptoms.

Leaving the boys’ room, she found her eight-year-old daughter huddled, clutching her favorite doll, in the recliner that had been Tom Lindstrom’s favorite chair. Elizabeth, blond and blue-eyed like her father, looked anxiously up at her mother. “Is Tommy going to join Daddy?”

Nina’s jaw firmed. She couldn’t bear another loss. “No,” she said with conviction. “Come on, it’s time for you to be in bed, as well.”

Elizabeth slipped out of the chair and, taking her mother’s hand, accompanied her into the second bedroom of the small two-bedroom apartment. There Nina tucked her daughter into one of the two twin beds. But she was too tense to climb into the other and go to sleep.

She went into the tiny kitchen and made herself some warm milk, then went into the living room and sank down onto the couch. It seemed like lately if anything could go wrong it had. The storm had caused extensive damage to the Grand Springs Diner where she worked as a waitress. Because of that, the diner was closed, and there was no telling when it would reopen. Or even if it would. Ma and Pa Olsen, the owners, had put the place up for sale.

In the meantime, she hadn’t been able to find a steady job. She’d been called a couple of times by the various catering services she normally moonlighted for, but those had been one-day jobs and the pay didn’t come anywhere near meeting her monthly expenses. She’d have to dip into her meager savings to pay the rent and buy food. And now there would be doctor’s bills.

Other than her children, she had no close family of her own. And she refused to ask Tom’s parents for financial help. So that they could save enough to retire without having to worry about putting food on the table, his father worked fifty-to sixty-hour weeks as a mechanic and his mother had cleaned houses until arthritis in her shoulder and hip had forced her into retirement.

Besides, Helen Lindstrom was already helping enormously by baby-sitting Nina’s children while she worked. Nina wanted to pay her but Helen refused, saying that watching her grandchildren was an act of love that helped ease the pain of having lost her son. Even more, both Helen and Ray treated Nina like a daughter and gave her emotional support for which she would be forever grateful. Nina wouldn’t ask for more from them.

“I’ll find a way to make ends meet,” she vowed.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back and, searching for a moment of peace, tried to clear her mind of all thoughts. Instead of the blank slate she sought, a man’s image appeared. In the past, the image had always been of her late husband…blond, blue-eyed Tom Lindstrom. But tonight the man who filled her mind was brown-haired and green-eyed.

Frowning, she opened her eyes. The cords in her neck had tensed and she massaged them. Ever since the night of the storm, the green-eyed man had haunted her, popping into her mind and her dreams, unexpected and uninvited.

“He and I come from two different worlds,” she grumbled at herself. If the lights hadn’t gone out and she’d waited on him as she had on other occasions, he would never have given her a second look. She would have been nothing more than the hired help, someone to ignore unless there was reason for complaint. He would have been so oblivious to her that if she’d passed him on the street the next day, he wouldn’t have recognized her. She pushed Alex Bennett from her mind, returning her attention to her real concerns.

The thought of Tommy lying pale and afraid in his bed brought her own fear back to the surface. She recognized the bud of panic. Following Tom’s death, she’d had several moments when anxieties about her ability to care for herself and her children had threatened to overwhelm her. But she’d overcome them. Her jaw tensed with resolve. She would not let fear rule her.

Tom’s death had taught her a very valuable lesson. It had taught her to rely on herself. Following her parents’ deaths, she’d turned to him for comfort and support, and he’d encased her in a protective blanket of love. Two months later, when she’d turned eighteen, she’d married him. She’d trusted him to be there always to take care of her and their offspring. Then came the day the drunk driver had forced him off the road and down a two-hundred-foot drop to his death. Suddenly, for the first time in her life, she was really on her own, and with three small children to care for. It was like learning to run before she’d even learned to stand. But she’d made it. They had a roof over their heads and food on the table.

But for how long? demanded the nagging voice of fear that would not completely disappear.

“For as long as I have the strength to work,” she replied curtly.

Abruptly she recalled Jessica Hanson predicting that things would work out well for her, and there had been gossip that the woman could see into the future. But how far? Nina wondered dryly. Since the storm, her luck seemed to be going from bad to worse and was showing no signs of changing. “People make their own luck.” She repeated aloud a phrase that had been one of her grandmother’s favorites.

She picked up the newspaper, intending to go directly to the Help Wanted section. Instead, her attention was caught by the article about the murder of Olivia Stuart. The police, it reported, still had no solid suspect. She hadn’t really known the woman, but she was aware that Mrs. Stuart had done a great deal of good for their town, and she hoped they caught the culprit soon.

Her gaze shifted to an artist’s rendering of a young girl’s face. The story accompanying it was an update regarding the abandoned baby who had been born the night of the storm. The face belonged to the mother.

“Well, at least she went to the hospital to give birth so the baby had a chance for survival,” Nina noted, her heart going out to the infant.

The story again recounted how the teenager had come into the delivery room in labor, given birth, then fled soon after. She’d given the hospital staff a false name and address, and the authorities hadn’t been able to locate her as yet. The baby, the article stated, was doing well, and the doctors didn’t expect any complications. They’d named the child Christopher.

How could someone abandon a child? she wondered. Was the mother so callous she was indifferent to her baby, or had she run away because she was terrified of the responsibility of taking care of a new life?

Nina thought of her own three children. It was her love for them and theirs for her that had kept her going during those dark months following Tom’s death. Because of them, she’d overcome her anxiety and found the strength to go on. She couldn’t imagine her life without them.

Again Tommy’s small, trusting face filled her mind and her chin trembled.

“Everything is going to be all right,” she stated firmly, and turned to the Help Wanted section.