Читать книгу His Brother's Fiancee - Jasmine Cresswell - Страница 12
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
THE NEXT TIME Emily was consciously aware of her surroundings, she found herself facing a set of imposing barred wrought-iron gates. Unable to proceed, she was forced to stop driving. She drew her Ford Explorer to a halt, her hands starting to shake on the steering wheel when she realized that she had arrived at the Double G Ranch on the far northwestern outskirts of San Antonio.
Good grief, if she was at the Double G, she must have driven clear across town at the height of midday traffic! Try as she might, she couldn’t summon a single memory of seeing another vehicle, or stopping for a traffic light. She could only be thankful that she hadn’t killed anyone in the process of getting here.
Although a traffic accident might be one solution to her dilemma, she thought with a touch of hysteria. Maybe she could stage a fake accident, smash up the car a bit, and feign head injuries. How about pretending to have amnesia? Then Michael could sorrowfully announce to the 350 assembled guests that since his fiancée had lost her mind, they were postponing the wedding.
Three hundred and fifty guests. Emily’s hands started to shake again. She’d tried so hard to be a source of pride to her parents. The Suttons had showered her with love and attention from the day they picked her up at the adoption agency, when she was only two weeks old. Achieving her maximum potential had seemed the least she could do to demonstrate her gratitude. Now she appeared doomed to shatter their pride in a big way, in the most public of settings. How in the world was she going to face them?
Her hands simply wouldn’t stop shaking. She gripped the wheel, forcing herself back to an approximation of calm. Take things one step at a time. By chance, she’d made it here to the ranch without mishap. On time, no less, so she might as well keep her appointment. When she’d finished her consultation with Dylan Garrett, there would be more than enough hours left in the day to track down her parents and pass on the shocking news that their weekend schedule suddenly had plenty of free time in it.
First she had to get through the closed gates. Small tasks seemed very difficult when half your brain was nonfunctioning. Emily rubbed her pounding forehead. How was she supposed to get inside? There were video monitors mounted on the decorative stone gate posts, but she couldn’t see any handles or locks on the gates themselves. Belatedly, she remembered that Carolyn had warned her about the secured entrance to the ranch. She’d been instructed to press the buzzer right below the videocam and request admittance.
Okay, Emily decided. She could manage that.
Hot, humid air assailed her as she rolled down the window. The temperature had been in the nineties for the past several days, and there was no rain in the five-day forecast, no expectation of a return to the eighties anytime soon. She’d been happy about the dry spell when she heard the forecast this morning. Now she wished rain would pour down in torrents. If there could only be a flood, just a little one, with nobody drowning, would that be sufficient excuse to call off the wedding?
Despite a fervent prayer for lightning bolts and thunder claps, the sky remained stubbornly cloudless, without the tiniest hint of an impending shower, let alone a flood of torrential rain. Thunderstorms, she could only conclude, were not delivered on demand to save people from social embarrassment.
Sighing, she pressed the intercom button. “This is Emily Sutton. I have an appointment with Dylan Garrett of Finders Keepers.”
“Hi, Emily. This is Carolyn. I’ll let you in.”
The gates swung open, but Emily didn’t drive through them. Instead, she stared at the electronic speaker as if it had sprouted fangs and poison pincers. Carolyn St. Clair! Her maid of honor. Good grief, she was truly losing her mind. How could she possibly have forgotten that Carolyn would be here, at the Double G Ranch? How could she have forgotten that the main reason she’d chosen Dylan Garrett to be her investigator was because her best friend Carolyn worked for Finders Keepers?
“Hey, Em, are you there? Or have we lost you to a daydream about your honeymoon?” Even over the intercom system, Emily could hear that Carolyn’s voice was tinged with friendly laughter. What in the world was she going to tell her? Carolyn was probably the kindest, most sympathetic woman in San Antonio, but that didn’t make it any easier for Emily to confess that she’d been dumped by her fiancé, hours before the wedding.
Whatever story she settled on, Emily decided, she couldn’t break the news over an intercom. She cleared her throat. “I’m here, Carolyn, and the gates are open. I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at the head of the stairs. When you’ve parked the car, you’ll see the signposts to our office.”
The gates swung closed behind her, and Emily followed the winding, tree-shaded drive to the ranch. The driveway was almost long enough and wide enough to be considered a road, and on another day, in different circumstances, she might have been intrigued by this chance to observe one of the San Antonio region’s oldest and most successful cattle ranches. As it was, her brain was so stuffed full of worry that she could just as easily have been driving to the local mall for all the attention she paid to the view.
Parking on a flagstone apron shaded by a pair of giant live oaks, she followed rustic wooden signs that pointed her to a side entrance and a stairway that led up to the second-floor offices of Finders Keepers.
As promised, Carolyn greeted her at the head of the stairs. “I’m glad you could make it, Em. With the wedding tomorrow, I half expected to get a phone call saying that some last-minute glitch in the arrangements was keeping you in town.”
“No.” Emily drew in a shaky breath. “I decided to get the hell out of Dodge for an hour or two and leave everyone else to cope with the disasters.”
Carolyn laughed. “I should have known you would be much too well organized to be panicked just because several hundred of the most important people in Texas are coming to watch you get married. Now me, I’m already chugging antacids just because I’m going to be your maid of honor. I know people aren’t going to pay the least bit of attention to anyone except you, and maybe a glance or two at Michael, but I’m not used to moving in the sort of high-society circles that you inhabit, and I don’t want to mess up.” She rolled her eyes. “The Chambers family is so nose-in-the-air Old Money that I’m never quite sure whether to curtsey or tell them to lighten up and get a life.”
This was simply awful. Emily wondered if she should faint, have hysterics, or cut short her torture by jumping out of the nearest window. “Look, Carolyn, you probably need to know that you don’t have to worry anymore about being—”
A man came out of a door to her left. “Ms. Sutton? I’m Dylan Garrett, one of the partners in Finders Keepers. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Years of social training took over and Emily extended her hand, smiling politely. “Yes, I’m Emily Sutton. It’s good to meet you, Dylan.”
“I’ll get back to straightening out the petty cash accounts,” Carolyn said with a quick wave. “See you tonight, Em. I’m looking forward to it.”
Oh, God! Should she keep Dylan waiting while she told Carolyn what had happened? Panic started to whirl in Emily’s stomach and she leaned against the banister, afraid she might pass out if she didn’t grab on to some solid support.
“Come into my office and we’ll get started,” Dylan said, taking the decision of what to do next out of her hands. “I know how busy you must be, and I’ll try to do this as fast as we can.” He held the door, standing back so that she could pass him.
He would never know what an effort of will it required to straighten her shoulders, move away from the support of the stair rail, and follow him into his office, Emily thought.
“What a pleasant room,” she said as Dylan closed the door behind them. Her reaction was mechanical, but as she spoke, she realized she had instinctively responded to the simple, masculine comfort of the room. As a trained interior designer, it was second nature for her to notice the settings people chose to live and work in, and she heartily approved Dylan’s taste.
The office had walls of natural stone and rough-hewn timber, contrasted with sections of whitewashed plaster that gave the whole room an airy feel that was simultaneously timeless and fashionably rustic. The furniture was obviously custom-designed to fit the niches and contours of the room, and the natural clutter of a working office was cleverly contained within several purpose-designed cabinets and open tray systems.
“You have wonderful natural light, and you’ve made the most of the available space,” she said, looking around. “You must enjoy working here.”
“I sure do. It’s turned out well, hasn’t it?” Dylan sat down behind an oversize desk and gestured for her to take the comfortable armchair that faced him. “It’s hard to imagine that this second floor has been part of the ranch for a hundred years, but it wasn’t much more than wasted space until my sister and I decided to convert the area into our offices.”
“With Carolyn to keep the administration running smoothly, and this great setting to impress your clients, I’m sure Finders Keepers will soon be the most successful investigative firm in the state.”
Dylan grinned. “We can only hope. But let’s get down to business. I know this is a very busy day for you and I’m sorry we couldn’t arrange to get together any earlier. You’re the only person I know whose schedule is more full than mine right now.”
Emily managed a sickly smile. If only he realized just how empty her schedule was about to become.
Dylan gave her an intent look, then leaned back in his chair, deliberately casual. “Tell me what you would like Finders Keepers to investigate for you, Ms. Sutton. Carolyn said that it was a family matter, but that’s all she told me.”
“Call me Emily, please.” She had agonized over her decision for weeks before coming to consult with Dylan Garrett. Ironically, now that she was here, her emotions were so numb that it didn’t seem such a big deal after all. “I’m here because I need you to find my birth mother,” she said.
“Need?” Dylan asked mildly. “Do you really need to find your birth mother for something like medical reasons, or was that just a figure of speech?”
“A figure of speech. At least I think it was.” Emily smiled wryly. “I don’t have any hereditary diseases as far as I know, and psychologically I’m sure I’ll survive if I never find out who my birth mother was, but I guess I’ve grown more and more curious about my origins as I’ve gotten older. Don’t get me wrong. My parents, Sam and Raelene Sutton, are wonderful people. They’ve given me a great education, a secure home, and lots of material possessions. Most of all, they’ve loved me more than any child could possibly hope for. In fact, they were such terrific parents I made it all through the teenage years without ever once being tempted to run away to search for my ‘real’ mom. So I guess it kind of took me by surprise a couple of months ago when I found myself wondering about my birth mother.”
“You never thought about her before? That’s unusual for an adopted child.”
“I thought about her occasionally, but not with any real intensity. On my birthdays, I would wonder if she remembered the day I was born, and if she missed me. But suddenly, after twenty-seven years, I have this nagging sense of urgency, and I’ve even started to dream about her at night. It’s as if time’s running out for me to find her. When I’m awake, the feeling of urgency isn’t so strong, but I keep asking myself how she’d feel if she knew her daughter was about to get married—“ Emily stopped abruptly.
Fortunately, Dylan misinterpreted the reason for her sudden silence. “It’s not surprising that you should start questioning the circumstances of your birth now you’ve reached the point in your life when you might have children of your own. Even so, before I agree to proceed with the investigation, I’d like to reassure myself that you’re aware of the risks involved.”
“Risks?”
“Emotional risks, chiefly. Although sometimes there are practical risks, too.”
“I’ve considered the risks,” Emily said. “I realize this search will impact my adoptive parents as well as me. Obviously, I don’t want to hurt them—”
“Have you told them what you’re planning to do?”
Emily shook her head. “No, not yet.”
Dylan sent her a quizzical look and she acknowledged his tacit question with a rueful smile. “I’m not chickening out. Honest. I don’t think they’ll be hurt by the idea that I’ve chosen to look for my birth mother, but they’ll be…anxious. Why worry them needlessly? Carolyn says your success rate in finding missing family members is very high, but even you must have the occasional failure. I didn’t want to get everyone worked up over something that might fizzle out into nothing.”
“You have a point. But we’re proud of our record, even though we’ve only been in business a short time, so I’m optimistic that we can find your mother. However, there are still a couple of warnings I need to run by you before we start the investigation. Until quite recently adoptions were governed more by custom than by law. Nowadays, most states insist on full disclosure, and open adoptions are the norm, with all the important facts on the table. But thirty years ago, case workers figured birth records were closed forever, and nobody was going to be hurt if they polished the truth to make it more palatable to adoptive parents.”
“I just want to know who my mother is and why she chose to give me up for adoption,” Emily said. “I’m prepared to face whatever you find.”
“Are you certain? Even if it turns out that you were born while your mother was in prison? Or maybe she had so many sexual partners nobody has any idea who your father is? Or how about if she’s a married woman, living in the suburbs with a second family and children she chose not to give up for adoption? How badly is that going to hurt you? Then there are the practical risks I talked about. You’re a successful professional woman, with wealthy parents. What if your adoptive mother hits you up for money?”
“Actually, I’ve thought about all those possibilities, and I’ve decided I want to know the truth, whatever it is,” Emily answered without hesitation. Surprisingly, a fierce desire to find her birth mother was one of the few emotions she could still feel through the numbness induced by Michael’s rejection.
She realized she was gripping the edge of the desk, and she uncurled her tense fingers. “I appreciate the warnings, Dylan, and I’m prepared to face the worst, but I don’t think I’ll have to. The adoption agency provided some pretty specific details about my background. They said my birth mother was a nineteen-year-old student at the University of Texas. My father was also a college student, although he was a couple of years older. They had a brief affair, but by the time my birth mother found out she was pregnant, my father had already graduated—”
Dylan shook his head, interrupting her. “Emily, every client who walks through these doors seems to have been told a version of the same story. Middle-class couples were more willing to adopt babies from middle-class backgrounds, so that’s what the agencies provided—babies supposedly born to innocent young girls who had made a mistake. The truth might really have been that the birth mother was an illegal immigrant toiling in a factory sweatshop and boosting her income by working as a prostitute, but somehow she always got transformed into a college student who made a mistake.”
“Sometimes it must have happened that way, though. College students do have unplanned babies.”
“Yeah. Sometimes. Not as often as you might expect.” Dylan leaned forward, his gaze intent. “I had a case where an older woman found out the truth about her past and wished she hadn’t. The illusions of a lifetime were badly shattered and she’s coping with information she’d have preferred not to have. Let me give you one last warning, Emily. Don’t open the box unless you’re one hundred percent sure you want to see the contents.”
Emily knew adoption agencies often lied about the circumstances of the birth parents…knew that her mother might be someone society would deem unworthy. Her dubious genetic heritage was one of the reasons she had always been so anxious not to disgrace Raelene and Sam. She didn’t want to give people cause to whisper that bad blood always tells in the end. But the time had come in her life when she needed to replace comforting myths with the truth.
“I’m prepared for whatever you find out,” she said quietly. “I want to open the box.”
“Okay, I believe you.” Dylan relaxed and gave her a warm smile. “Now I’m finally going to quit with the dire warnings and tell you one of my favorite adoption stories. Almost the first client this agency had was a man in his forties. His adoptive mother had just died, and he’d decided to start a search for his birth mother. We found her without too much difficulty, and they had a great reunion. It turned out his birth mother had been widowed a year earlier and had been looking for her son ever since. But it gets even better. Yesterday, I had a phone call from my client. His birth mother and his adoptive dad have just gotten engaged and he called to invite me to the wedding. Isn’t that a great story?”
“It sure is. It’s the sort of fairy-tale ending every adopted child dreams of.” Emily concentrated on feeling happy for the bride and groom, and not wallowing in self-pity for herself and her broken engagement.
“I have a bunch more great adoption stories, but with your tight schedule, I guess we need to get down to business.” Dylan’s manner became brisk. “I’ll need your birth certificate and the name of the agency that arranged the adoption. I assume you can give me that much?”
Emily nodded. “I sure can. The adoption was arranged through the Lutheran Family Services. Unfortunately, their records were all destroyed in a fire, and the agency itself is no longer in business, which is why I couldn’t take this investigation any further myself. I didn’t know where to start.”
She laid a brown envelope on the desk. It contained the meager records of her adoption. “Other than the story I told you about both my parents being students at the University of Texas, I don’t have any leads to give you, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t worry. It’s my business to generate leads. That’s why we charge the big bucks.”
Emily acknowledged his smile. “Yes, Carolyn already provided me with your fee schedule. It took me a couple of days to recover, but I’m no longer in a state of total shock.”
“Good.” Smiling, Dylan pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Don’t worry, Emily, we earn our high prices. We’ve traced birth parents with less information than you’ve given me, and quite quickly, too. So my advice is that you should enjoy your wedding, have fun on the honeymoon, and by the time you’re back in town again, I hope to have news for you.”
He glanced down at some notes on his desk. “I have your address and phone number here—365 Market Street. Is that going to change after you’re married?”
Emily felt her smile freeze. Good grief, here was another problem she hadn’t thought of. She was about to become a homeless person! She’d sold her small but beautiful condo with views over the River Walk because she’d expected to move into Michael’s self-contained apartment within the Chambers mansion. Her furniture was in storage, and she’d been camping out for the past ten days at her parents’ house. The new owners had already moved into her condo, and she had no place to go. Because much as she loved her parents, she simply wasn’t going to continue living with them. She never again wanted to put herself at the mercy of their well meant but smothering protection.
It took significant effort, but she managed not to let her worry show. “I’m not living at the Market Street address anymore, but I’ll make sure Carolyn has my new address and phone number,” she said. “I’ll be in touch in a couple of days.”
Dylan wasn’t a detective for nothing. She’d thought she managed to convey that information rather calmly, but he sensed the anxiety lurking only a hairbreadth beneath the cool surface.
“Emily, what’s bothering you?” he asked quietly. “I assumed it was the search for your birth mother that had you on the edge, which is why I pressed you hard about the risks involved. But I’ve been watching you closely, and I’m fairly sure it’s not this investigation that has you half a step away from full-blown panic. It’s something else. Can I help?”
“No, but I really appreciate the offer. It sounded genuine.”
“It was. I have broad shoulders if you feel the need to unload a problem.”
It occurred to her that Dylan would be an easy man to confide in. It also occurred to her that he must encounter people all the time who were struggling with heartbreaking, life-or-death dilemmas. She suddenly realized that 350 disgruntled guests didn’t amount to a life-or-death problem. As for heartbreaking… Her heart, now that she stopped to think about it, seemed remarkably unscathed by Michael’s casual termination of their engagement. Her pride was rubbed raw and she was panicked by the sudden upheaval in her plans for her future, but there was no gaping wound in her emotions. In fact, for a bride jilted almost at the altar, she was embarrassingly free of grief.
Emily flashed Dylan her first genuine smile in several hours. “I’ve just this minute come to the conclusion that I don’t have much of a problem at all. Other than the fact that I’ve been indulging in an exaggerated case of self-pity, which I plan to snap out of right now. Thank you again for your excellent advice.”
“You’re welcome.” Dylan grinned. “Sometime you must let me know what I said that was so insightful.” He walked her to the door. “You’d probably like to see Carolyn before you leave. Her office is two doors down. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks. I’ll look forward to hearing from you as soon as you have any news about my birth mother.” Emily said a final goodbye and marched purposefully down the hallway to Carolyn’s office. The door was open and she stepped inside without knocking.
“I’m not going to marry Michael,” she announced. “You’re the first person to hear the news.”
The sky didn’t fall and the walls of the building remained standing. In fact, her announcement seemed considerably less amazing once she’d actually spoken it out loud.
Carolyn, who’d been working at a computer, swiveled around on her chair and looked at Emily without saying anything. Her expression revealed nothing at all about what she was thinking, not even that she was surprised.
“You want to sit down and tell me about it?” Carolyn asked finally.
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.” Whatever story she invented for the benefit of the world at large, Carolyn was her best friend and would have the plain, unvarnished truth. But not right now. Not today.
“I’ve been really stupid, and it still feels too frightening to talk about,” Emily said by way of explanation. Her heart might not be shattered, but it could still ache for dreams and hopes that weren’t going to be fulfilled. “Give me a few hours to get my head fixed on straight and then I’ll share all the gory details.”
“Okay. Subject closed. So what shall we do tonight?” Carolyn rallied like the trooper she was. “Want to come to my place and eat popcorn and watch bad movies? Hop on a plane to Dallas? Drive into the country and spend the night at a motel, drinking champagne and dissing men? You name it, I’m game.”
“Thank you,” Emily said, feeling tears spring into her eyes. “You’re a wonderful friend, Caro. But I think what you should do tonight is attend the Sutton-Chambers bridal dinner at the San Antonio Federal Club. Trust me, the food’s going to be spectacular. The champagne is all from France, and there are a bunch of cute guys coming, and most of them dance really well.”
“But I thought you said you weren’t going to marry Michael?”
“I’m not. But it’s too late to cancel the bridal dinner. Everything will have to be paid for anyway, so somebody might as well eat all the fancy food Mrs. Chambers has spent three months selecting.” Emily was quite proud of her smile. “The bride and groom will be missing, but that should at least make for some interesting table gossip.”
“Well, I don’t know, Em…”
“Go, Carolyn. Please. I want you to. You bought a super new dress, you told me so. You might as well wear it and leave all the men of San Antonio eating their hearts out because you’re so unattainable.”
Carolyn laughed. “You’ve got me mixed up with you,” she said. “You’re the one who left a trail of broken hearts when you accepted Michael’s proposal.”
Emily sent her friend a grateful smile. It was so typical of Carolyn to say something to boost her morale. “Thanks, Caro. I wish we could have lunch together so you could pay me lots more slick compliments, but I ought to get back, I suppose. I can’t put off talking to my parents any longer.”
“Do you want me to call any of the guests? Warn the other bridesmaids? Anything along those lines?”
Emily felt herself break out in a cold sweat at this reminder of what she would shortly be facing. “I don’t know what to say….” She drew in a steadying breath. “No. Don’t tell anyone that the wedding’s off. I think it’s best if we just let everyone turn up for the bridal dinner tonight and then my parents will have to make some kind of an announcement.”
Carolyn sent her a look of real sympathy. “You went a bit white around the gills when you said that. Are you okay to drive yourself home, Em?”
“Yes, I’ll manage. I’m fine, really.” She looked at her watch and realized that she’d left the Chambers’ home well over two hours ago. “Wow! I really have to get back and face the music. I’ll be in touch soon, I promise. Take care, Carolyn.”
“You, too, Em. Drive carefully. Love ya.”
“Love you, too, babe.”
Carolyn watched her friend leave. “But you didn’t love Michael,” she muttered under her breath. “Thank goodness you realized that in time to get out of marrying him.”
