Читать книгу An Heir For The Billionaire - Kat Cantrell - Страница 7

One

If there was any poetic justice in the world, Sutton Lazarus Winchester had gotten his.

Nora sagged back against the wall of the sterile hospital room, unable to process the inescapable fact that her seemingly infallible father was indeed dying of inoperable lung cancer. She should feel relieved. His tyrannical reign was nearly over. The man who couldn’t be bothered to walk her down the aisle at her own wedding lay pale and gaunt in a hospital bed, as if a bit of his spirit had already fled for hell in advance of the rest.

The relief didn’t come. Nora had traveled home to Chicago with the barest hope she might find a way to reconcile with her father in his last days. And now that she was here, the sheer difficulty of that task nearly overwhelmed her.

“I had to see it for myself,” Nora murmured to her sisters, Eve and Gracie, who flanked her as she faced down their father. None of them had gotten too close to the bed in case Sutton had more gusto than he seemed to have. Right now he appeared to be asleep but that didn’t matter.

Like a snake, he waited until you were within striking distance and then sank his fangs into the tenderest place he could find, injecting poison and pain until it suited him to stop. It was how he’d always operated, and Nora had no doubt he’d find a way to do it from the grave.

“We all did,” Eve murmured back. “The doctor wasn’t too happy with me when I asked her to allow another doctor to review the oncology reports. But I had to make sure.”

Methodical to her core, Eve never missed dotting an i or crossing a t. As the oldest Winchester sister, she’d always been large and in charge and seldom let anything stand in her way.

“Wanted to see the death sentence with your own two eyes, hmm?” Nora said without malice.

Sutton had terrorized all three of his daughters, but Nora was the only one who’d grown so sick of the constant drama surrounding her father that she’d moved halfway across the country to Colorado, effectively—and gratefully—turning her back on the money, the glitter and the heartbreak of the lifestyle she’d been born into.

Eve glowered. “Wanted to make sure it wasn’t manufactured. I wouldn’t put it past that Newport scum to have paid off a doctor to produce a false report.”

“Do you really think Carson could find someone willing to do that?” Gracie asked, and it was clear she had no ill will toward the man the sisters had recently learned was their half brother.

The total opposite of Eve, Gracie always saw the best in people. Nora’s younger sister had such a big heart, even in the midst of the huge scandal caused by the recent revelation that during one of his past affairs, Sutton had fathered a son—none other than his business rival Carson Newport.

Now that Nora had seen her father, she could turn her attention to Carson, who was her second order of business while in Chicago. Oh, Nora didn’t give two figs about Sutton’s money and whether Carson Newport had a legal claim to any of it. Eve and Grace could fight that battle. But the man was her brother. She was curious about him. And she didn’t appreciate the idea of her sisters losing out on their inheritance; it meant something to them, even if it came down to nothing more than a just reward for the years of being Sutton Winchester’s daughters.

“I wouldn’t put anything past him. There are a lot of unethical things people will gladly do for money, including doctors. And especially Newport,” Eve responded, tossing her honey-blond hair over her shoulder impatiently. It was longer than Nora remembered, but then, they hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. Not since before Sean had died.

The grief over her husband’s untimely death, never far from the surface, bubbled up; coupled with the shock at seeing the larger-than-life head of the Winchester real estate empire laid out in a stark white hospital bed, it was too much.

One, two, three... Nora kept counting until she reached ten. That was all the time she was allowed to feel sorry for herself. Sean was gone. Nora wasn’t and she had adult things to handle that wouldn’t get done if she spent all her time curled up in a ball of grief as she had after the grim-faced army liaison had brought her the news that Sean had been killed in Afghanistan.

He’d never gotten to meet their son. It was the cruelest travesty in a litany of truly terrible circumstances. But Nora still had that tiny piece of her husband alive and present in their little boy, and no gun-toting terrorist could ever take that away.

A woman with thick-framed glasses and hair swept up in a no-nonsense bun appeared at Sutton’s bedside, the tablet in her hand and white lab coat indicating she had medical business at hand. She checked a few things on her tablet and then glanced at the knot of Winchester women.

“I’m Dr. Wilde. We haven’t met.” The doctor rounded the bed to shake Nora’s hand. “You must be the nonlocal sister.”

“Nora O’Malley,” she affirmed. She’d shed the Winchester name as fast as she could after she and Sean tied the knot, and it would take an act of Congress to get her to ever change it to anything else. “So it’s true? My father is dying and there’s nothing you can do?”

Dr. Wilde bowed her head for a moment, her discreet diamond earrings sparkling in the light. “As much as I hate to admit defeat, yes. It’s true. I couldn’t operate, due to the tumor’s location, and then the cancer spread too fast to employ chemotherapy. He probably has another five months, tops. I’m sorry.”

Five months. It was way too fast. How could she find the will to forgive her father for not loving her in such a short period of time?

“Don’t be,” Nora insisted, even as the doctor’s prognosis hit her sideways. “It’s his own fault. We all told him to stop smoking but he thought that deal he’d made with the devil would keep him alive forever, I guess.”

She’d known that’s what the doctor would say. But it was so different to hear it from her mouth personally. That was partly the reason she’d forced herself to get on a plane to Chicago, though traveling with a two-year-old had been exhausting.

And now it was shockingly final. Sutton would be dead by New Year’s Day.

Sutton’s personal assistant, Valerie Smith, poked her head in the door, not one ash-blond hair out of place. “Is your father awake yet?” she asked. “I was going to bring Declan in if you wanted.”

Third order of business: to finally let her father meet his grandson.

It had been a difficult decision. The poison that Sutton managed to infuse into everybody around him couldn’t be allowed to affect her son. But his grandfather was dying. Nora had hoped that on his deathbed, her father might have an epiphany about his character, his choices, his closed heart—something that would allow all of them to make peace with Sutton’s passing and go on.

“No, he’s still asleep.” Nora couldn’t help but feel grateful for the reprieve. She’d steeled herself for this moment of reckoning but nothing magical had happened to the disappointment and hurt inside upon seeing her father in person. “But I’ll take Declan so you can have a break.”

Valerie had offered to take the cranky and bored two-year-old to the cafeteria in search of Jell-O or saltine crackers, the only two things he wanted. He refused to eat the fruit snacks and banana chips Nora had shoved in her carry-on bag—the only two things he’d wanted when she’d been packing back home. Reason was not in the wheelhouse of a toddler, so holding out the packages and telling him that was the snack he’d picked hadn’t worked.

The little boy popped into the room and Nora’s heart lurched, as it always did when she caught sight of his curly mop of red hair. He looked like Sean, of course, and it was both a blessing and a curse to have the visual reminder of what she’d lost. “Hey, Butterbean. Did you find some Jell-O?”

Nora extracted herself from her sisters with a hand to Gracie’s arm and a smile for Eve, guilt crowding into her chest that she’d opted to take the out of caring for her son instead of sitting here with her family. They’d all been by Sutton’s side from the beginning, supporting each other, showing solidarity to outsiders, but Nora just...couldn’t.

Declan nodded. “Jell-O.”

It came out sounding more like je-whoa, but Nora had never had any trouble interpreting Declan-speak. The shiny machines of the hospital room caught his attention and he weaved toward the nearest one, finger outstretched. Nora scooped him up and kissed his head. “Not so fast, Mr. Curious. Have I told you the story about the cat?”

“Cat.” Declan made a sound like one, except it was more of a yowl than a traditional meow. He was so funny and precious and her heart ached that his father wasn’t here to see how he’d grown, how fast he learned things, how he slept with one foot stuck out from the covers—just like Sean had.

As quickly as she could, Nora bustled her son out of the hospital room before anyone saw the tear that had slipped down her face. Sean had died nearly two years ago. She should be ready to move past it. Ready to date again, find someone to ease her loneliness. But she couldn’t imagine being with someone other than Sean, who had been the love of her life, the man who had thoroughly captured her heart the moment she’d met him at a football game during her junior year of college.

Seeking a quiet place to regroup, Nora spied an alcove with two chairs away from the main hospital corridor. She and Declan settled into the chairs, or she did. He sat in the opposing one for a grand total of four seconds before he squirmed to the ground and scooted around like his pants were on fire. Nora laughed.

“Problem with your diaper there, Butterbean?”

That had been Sean’s nickname for the boy the moment he’d seen the ultrasound pictures she’d held up to the camera during one of their Skype calls. She’d kept the name, even after he was born, because Declan still resembled a bean when swaddled in the brown blanket Sean’s mother had bought for her grandson.

Of course, Nora didn’t do much swaddling these days, not with an active two-year-old.

Declan didn’t answer, too preoccupied with his task of cleaning the hospital floor with his butt. Thirty more seconds and she’d use hand sanitizer on every inch of exposed skin, before he got around to sticking a random body part in his mouth. Midwest Regional was a highly acclaimed hospital, but sick people came through these halls all the time. A mother couldn’t be too careful.

“Ms. Winchester?” A young hospital worker in plain clothes stopped near Declan. Her name badge read Amanda.

“O’Malley,” Nora corrected. “But yes, formerly Winchester.”

And she didn’t choke on it. There might be hope for her yet to work through all her anger and disillusionment with her father.

The worker smiled. “There’s a private room set up for the family if you’d like me to show it to you.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

How could she have missed that Sutton’s wealth and influence had extended even to the hospital? It had been a long time since Nora had lived the life of a socialite, and even longer since she’d wanted to. But the lure of a private place, away from the crowded hospital, called to her.

Amanda punched in the code on the keypad outside the room and then promised to write it down for her. Nora pushed open the door and nearly gasped, but not over the sumptuously appointed room. Her mother’s house had far more antique rugs and dark, heavy furniture than this place. No, her attention was firmly on the long table lining the wall that held enough food for four Winchester families. The empty bags under the table sported the logo for Iguazu, a new, trendy Argentinian fusion restaurant so hot that Nora had even heard of it back home in Colorado. A couple of uniformed delivery people were still setting up the warming mechanisms for the silver serving trays, so the food had obviously just arrived.

“What is all this?” Nora asked Amanda.

“Someone sent it for the family. Oh—” Amanda rummaged in her pocket “—there’s a note for you.”

Intrigued, Nora accepted the envelope and scooped up Declan with her other arm as he eyed the blue flame under the rolltop chafing dishes. “Thank you.”

Amanda wrote down the keypad code on a sticky note and cheerfully waved as she exited behind the delivery people. Nora sat in one of the overstuffed wingback chairs and wedged Declan in tight so he couldn’t squirm away, then ripped open the envelope.

The typed note was short and to the point: Good food can make anything more bearable.

In closing, the note contained only a simple statement—Cordially Yours. No signature.

Nora’s eyes narrowed as she read over the phrase again. It tickled the edges of her memory and then came to her all at once. It was a phrase that had been a bit of a joke between Nora and a friend—Reid Chamberlain.

Wow. That was a name Nora hadn’t thought about in years. Reid, his brother, Nash, and his sister, Sophia, had gone to the same private schools as the Winchester girls, practically since birth. Reid and Nora were the same age and had often been in the same class. Their parents ran in the elite circles of Chicago society, so it was only natural that they’d seen each other socially, and at boring grown-up events. What else was there for kids to do but bond?

It would have made more sense for Nora to become friends with Sophia, but it hadn’t happened that way. Reid had always been the object of her fascination.

They’d spent a good bit of time getting into trouble together, playing make-believe in the cupboards of each other’s kitchens until the servants chased them out, or getting up a game of hide-and-seek across the expansive Chamberlain estate grounds with their siblings. She’d loved it when they hid in the branches of the same tree, giggling quietly behind their hands when Nash or Gracie stood directly below, frustrated over not being able to find them. For a while, she’d had a bit of a crush on Reid.

But that had been before he grew into his looks and body, both of which put him firmly in the sights of every teenaged socialite-in-training in the greater Chicago area, shoving Nora to the back of the pack. Then Reid had started running with a crowd that worshipped at the altar of money, prestige and fast cars. She didn’t blame him. Ninety-nine percent of the people in her life subscribed to the philosophy of whoever has the most toys at the end wins. They’d grown apart. It happened.

Last she’d heard, Reid Chamberlain had only increased his wealth and prestige through a series of brilliant moves in the hotel industry. He dominated the Chicago market along with a host of other cities.

Surely Reid wasn’t the one who’d sent the smorgasbord. They hadn’t talked in years and the joke involving cordially yours hadn’t been a code of any sort, just something they’d said to each other when they mimicked how grown-ups talked when trying to impress other grown-ups. Lots of people could use the phrase on a regular basis.

Nora texted Eve and in a few moments, the rest of the Winchesters barreled into the private room to see the anonymous gift for themselves. Since she hadn’t eaten in forever, Nora fixed a plate for Declan with a few French fries, his favorite and likely the only thing from the table he’d eat, and then took full advantage of the generosity of their unknown benefactor for herself. The dishes held layers and layers of steaming, mouthwatering food: Argentinian asado-style steak thick with chimichurri sauce, a tray of empanadas, a variety of grilled vegetables and cheeses.

Nora took a bit of everything, intending to go back for more of the dishes she liked the best. Eve and Gracie followed suit as they chatted about the identity of their anonymous friend, but even after a round of seconds, the spread looked like it had barely been touched.

“This food is delicious,” Nora commented. “But it won’t last long and there’s so much of it. We should share it with the staff.”

“That’s a great idea,” Gracie said enthusiastically. “They all work so hard. I wonder how often any of them get to eat at a place like Iguazu, where you have to know someone to get a table. I’ve only been there once and that took some doing. I’ll mention it to Amanda so she can spread the word.”

You needed an “in” to eat at Iguazu? Nora’s intrigue meter shot into the red. Who would have sent food to the Winchester family from such an exclusive place? One of Sutton’s associates? People tolerated Sutton because he was powerful, and sure, lots of them had sent impersonal gifts over the years, but rarely did anyone go out of their way to do something difficult or thoughtful. Even more impressed with the gesture, Nora fingered the note in her pocket.

Nurses, doctors and hospital staff streamed into the room in short order, exclaiming over the feast and thanking the Winchester women for their generosity. Crowd noise increased as people found seats and socialized. Nora’s temples started to pound as the long day of travel caught up with her.

On the other side of the room, Declan had climbed into Gracie’s lap, and she laughed as he stole French fries off her plate, apparently not having stuffed his little face enough with those his mother had given him. Declan was in good hands with his aunt, providing Nora with the perfect opportunity to grab a few minutes to herself.

Nora caught Gracie’s eye and nodded to the door, then held up her palm with her fingers spread, mouthing, “Five minutes?”

Gracie smiled and waved her off.

Gratefully, Nora ducked out and went to the ladies’ room to splash some water on her face. Belatedly, she realized there was probably a private bathroom in the area she’d just left. It had been a while since Nora had lived in her family’s wealthy orbit. She’d never really embraced the privileged lifestyle anyway, even choosing to go to the University of Michigan, a public college, much to her mother’s chagrin. But that was where she’d met Sean, so she’d considered it fate.

Out of nowhere, Reid popped into her head again. He’d gone to Yale, if she recalled correctly. Not that she’d spent a lot of time keeping track of him, but the private high school they’d attended had been small enough that everyone knew everyone else’s business.

As she fingered the note in her pocket again, Nora’s curiosity got the best of her. What if Reid had sent the catered spread? She should thank him. Gracie and Eve had known Reid, of course, but they’d never been close with any of the Chamberlain siblings, not as Nora had.

But why would Reid have done something so nice without signing the note? Suddenly, she had to know if her childhood friend had been behind the gesture. If for no other reason than to satisfy her curiosity.

Nora was nothing if not resourceful. After all, she’d walked away from her family’s money and lived a simple life in Colorado on the monthly Dependent Indemnity Compensation payment that the government sent Nora as a surviving spouse of a military serviceman killed in the line of duty. Creativity came with the territory.

She pulled out her phone and tapped up the restaurant’s website, then called. A cultured female voice answered. “Iguazu. How may I help you?”

“This is...Ms. O’Malley from Mr. Chamberlain’s office.” Nora crossed her fingers. She hated lying, but the ends justified this little white one. “Mr. Chamberlain would like confirmation that the food he ordered to be delivered to the Winchester family at Midwest Regional was delivered.”

“Absolutely, let me verify.”

Music piped through the speakers as Nora was put on hold. She grinned. That had been way too easy.

The music cut off as the Iguazu employee came back on the line. “Ms. O’Malley? Yes, the food was delivered and as specified, the note given directly to Nora Winchester. Please let Mr. Chamberlain know we’re pleased he’s chosen Iguazu for his catering needs and we look forward to his next event.”

Somehow Nora squeaked out a “Thank you,” though how she’d spoken when her tongue had gone completely numb, she’d never know.

Reid had not only sent the food, he’d specified that she should receive the note? Why? The signature had been some kind of code. One he’d clearly thought would mean something to her. And it did. She’d been besieged by memories of an easier time, before Sean, before she’d really understood what an SOB her father was.

Reid had wanted her to figure it out. She had to know why.

After the long trip and the blow of seeing her father so ill in that hospital bed, yet not feeling the rush of forgiveness she’d hoped for, Nora should have wanted to go home and shut out the world. But she’d been doing that for two years and all it had gotten her was a severe case of loneliness and a crushing sense of vulnerability.

Very little had happened lately that she’d had any control over. Her life had been spinning without her permission and all she’d been able to do was hang on. It was time to do something affirmative. Something decisive. Like thank an old friend for his kindness.