Читать книгу Scent Of Roses - Kat Martin - Страница 8

It was after five o’clock, and the office was closed by the time Elizabeth was able to leave. She made the drive through town in the after-five traffic, nothing like the bumper-to-bumper, endless line of cars on the L.A. freeways she used to battle when she lived in Santa Ana, but enough to keep her stopped on Main Street through two sets of red lights.

Downtown San Pico was only ten blocks long, some of the store signs printed in Spanish. Miller’s Dry Cleaners, perched on the corner, had a laundromat attached. There was a JC Penney catalog store, several clothing stores, and a couple of diners, including Marge’s Café, where she had worked part-time in high school.

As she drove past the coffee shop, she could see the long Formica counter and pink vinyl booths inside. Even after twenty years, the place still did a brisk business. Aside from The Ranch House, a steak and prime rib restaurant at the edge of town, it was the only decent place to eat.

A few straggly sycamore trees grew out of the sidewalks that lined the downtown streets but not many. There were a couple of gas stations, a Burger King, a McDonald’s and a sleezy bar called The Roadhouse out where Highway 51 intersected Main Street. The biggest boon to the area had been the arrival two years ago of a Wal-Mart, built to service the town and several outlying farming communities.

Elizabeth continued down Main and turned onto the highway, heading for Harcourt Farms. The little yellow house where Maria and Miguel Santiago lived sat just off the road in an area of the farm that included three other overseers’ houses, half a dozen farm laborer cottages, and the big, white, wood-frame, two-story owner’s house, which sat some distance away.

Elizabeth’s car bumped over a set of abandoned railroad tracks not far from the house. She pulled off the road into a spot next to the driveway and climbed out of the Acura.

She had saved for two years to get the down payment for the car and she loved it. With its red leather seats and wood-paneled interior, it made her feel younger just to sit behind the wheel. She had bought the car because she thought that at thirty, she shouldn’t be feeling as old as she often did.

She walked along the cement sidewalk past a flowerbed blooming with red and yellow zinnias. Elizabeth knocked on the front door of the house, and a few minutes later, Maria Santiago pulled it open.

“Ms. Conners.” She smiled. “What a nice surprise. It is good to see you. Please come in.” Maria was a slender young woman, except for the protrusion of her belly and her ever-increasing breasts. Her long black hair was braided, as she often wore it, and hanging down her back.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth walked into the house, which Maria kept immaculately clean. The girl, as neatly kept as the house, wore a pair of white, ankle-length pants and a loose-fitting blue-flowered blouse. Except for the tight lines around her mouth and the faint smudges beneath her eyes, she looked lovely.

“Miguel and I, we want to thank you for what you did for Raul. I have never seen him so excited, though of course, he tried not to show it.” She frowned as a thought occurred. “He is not in more trouble? That is not the reason you are here?”

“No, of course not. This has nothing to do with Raul. Except that your brother is worried about you. Raul asked me to stop by.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He thinks you are upset about something. He isn’t sure what it is. He hoped that you might talk to me about it.”

Maria glanced away. “My brother is imagining things. I am fine, as you can see.”

She was pretty, with her big dark eyes and classic features, and more than six months pregnant. Elizabeth had come to know Maria and Miguel through her dealings with Raul and she liked them both, though Miguel’s overly macho attitude could be irritating at times.

“It is hot outside,” Maria said. “Would you like a glass of iced tea?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

They sat down at a wooden table in the kitchen. Maria went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic pitcher, then popped cubes from an ice tray into two tall glasses and filled them with chilled tea.

She set the glasses down on the table. “Would you like some sugar?”

“No, this is perfect just the way it is.” Elizabeth sat down at the small round table covered by a flowered plastic tablecloth and took a sip of her tea.

Maria stirred sugar into hers, paying slightly more attention to the task than necessary, Elizabeth thought, wondering again what the problem could be. Raul was a shrewd young man. He wouldn’t have called without good reason.

“It must be hard being alone all day this far from town,” Elizabeth began cautiously.

“There is always work to do. Before it got so hot, I worked in my garden. Now, with the baby getting bigger, I cannot stay out in the sun for so long. But I have clothes to mend and food to prepare for Miguel. Since we moved into the house, he comes home for lunch. He works very hard. I like to make sure he has something good to eat.”

“So the two of you are getting along all right?”

“Sí. We get along very well. My husband is a good man. He is a very good provider.”

“I’m sure he is. Still, I imagine he often works late, which means you are home by yourself. Is that the reason you aren’t sleeping well?” It was a risk. She was guessing and a wrong guess might bring the young woman’s guard up even more.

“What…what makes you think I am not sleeping?”

“You look tired, Maria.” Elizabeth reached across the kitchen table and clasped the girl’s hand. “What is it, Maria? Tell me what’s wrong.”

The girl shook her head and Elizabeth caught the sheen of tears. “I am not certain. Something is happening, but I do not know what it is.”

“Something? Like what?”

“Something very bad, and I am afraid to tell Miguel.” She drew her hand away. “I think…I think I might be getting sick like my mother.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Your mother had a tumor, didn’t she? Is that what you mean?”

“Sí, a tumor, yes. In her brain. Before she died, she started to see things that were not there, to hear voices calling out to her. I think maybe that is happening to me.” Leaning over, she hugged her swollen belly and burst into tears.

Elizabeth sat back in her chair. It was possible, she supposed but there could be any number of explanations. “It’s all right, Maria. You know I’ll help you in any way I can. Tell me why you think you might have a tumor like your mother.”

Maria looked up, her hand shaking as she brushed away the wetness on her cheeks. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “In the night…when Miguel is working, sometimes I hear noises. They are very frightening sounds, creaking and groaning, moaning that sounds like the wind but the night is still. The air in the bedroom grows thick, and so heavy I can hardly breathe.” She swallowed. “And then there is the smell.”

“The smell?”

“Sí. Like roses, only so strong I think I will suffocate right there in the bed.”

“San Pico is famous for its roses. They’ve been growing them here for more than forty years. Occasionally, you are bound to smell them.” She clasped the young woman’s hand once more, felt how cold it was, felt it trembling. “You’re pregnant, Maria. When a woman is carrying a baby, sometimes her emotions get mixed up.”

“They do?”

“Yes, sometimes they do.”

Maria glanced away. “I am not sure what is happening. Sometimes…sometimes it seems real. Sometimes I think…”

“You think what, Maria?”

“That mi casa es encantada.”

Elizabeth spoke passable Spanish, had to in order to do her job. “You think your house is haunted? Surely you don’t believe that.”

Maria shook her head, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I do not know what to believe. I only know that at night I am very afraid.”

Frightened enough that she had been unable to sleep. “But you aren’t saying that you’ve actually seen a ghost.”

She shook her head. “I have not seen it. I have only heard its voice in my head.”

“Listen to me, Maria. Your house is not haunted. There are no such things as ghosts.”

“What about Jesus? Jesus came back from the dead. He is called the Holy Spirit.”

Elizabeth leaned back in the chair. She had been doing social work since she graduated from college. She had dealt with hundreds of unusual problems, but this was a first.

“Jesus is different. He’s the Son of God and he isn’t haunting your house. Do you really believe there’s a ghost in your bedroom?”

“There is a ghost—or I am going to die like my mother.” She started to cry again.

Elizabeth rose from her chair. “No, you’re not,” she said firmly, stilling Maria’s momentary lapse into tears. “You are not going to die. But just to make sure there isn’t a tumor, I’m going to arrange for a visit to the clinic. Dr. Zumwalt can do a CAT scan. If there’s anything wrong, he’ll be able to tell.”

“We do not have the money for something like that.”

“The county will take care of it, if Dr. Zumwalt thinks the test needs to be done.”

“Will it hurt?”

“No. They just take a picture of the inside of your head.”

Maria rose from her chair. “You must promise not to tell Miguel.”

“I won’t tell your husband. This is just between you and me.” She could only imagine what Miguel Santiago would say if he found out his young wife had started to believe their house was haunted.

“We will go to the clinic tomorrow?”

“I’ll have to make the arrangements. I’ll call you as soon as I know the date and time, then I’ll pick you up and take you there myself.”

Maria managed an uneven smile. “Thank you.”

“Raul is going to ask me if you’re all right.”

“Tell him I am fine.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I’ll tell him I’m taking you in for a checkup just to be sure you’re okay.”

She nodded and flicked a glance toward the bedroom. “Tell him not to tell Miguel.”

Carson Harcourt drove up in front of the two-story stucco fourplex on Cherry Street, climbed out of his Mercedes and started up the walkway to apartment B. The area was quiet, the neighborhood one of the safest in town. He was only a few minutes late and he figured, at any rate, Elizabeth wouldn’t be ready when he got there.

Women never were.

A brisk rap on the door. He was surprised when a fully dressed Elizabeth Conners pulled it open.

Carson’s gaze ran over her floor-length dark blue sequined gown and he found himself smiling. His spur-of-the-moment invitation to the benefit was nothing short of genius. He had noticed she was pretty, of course. He’d had a hunch, once she abandoned the boring but professional business suits she always wore, she would be far more than that.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, meaning it. She was a little taller than average and slenderly built. As he assessed her curve-hugging gown, he saw that she had nice full breasts, smooth shoulders, a small waist and well-shaped hips.

I should have done this sooner, he chided himself.

“Thanks for the compliment. You look very dashing yourself, Carson.”

He smiled. He’d always looked good in a tux. The black showed off his blond hair and blue eyes, and the single-button style set off the width of his shoulders. Too bad it was still so damned hot. He’d only been out of the air-conditioned car for a couple of minutes and already he was sweating inside the collar of his white pleated shirt.

“Let’s get going. It’ll be cooler in the car.”

Elizabeth nodded and took his arm. Carson led her toward his silver Mercedes and settled her in the passenger seat. The air conditioner blasted full force the moment he turned the electronic key in the ignition. It had been a while since he’d had time for female companionship. As he glanced over at Elizabeth, he thought that maybe it was time for that to change. He would see how well they dealt together tonight.

The benefit was in full swing by the time they arrived. Carson led Elizabeth through the milling crowd, waving to a few friendly faces, heading toward the front of the room. He stopped at the no-host bar and ordered a glass of champagne for Elizabeth and a scotch-and-soda for himself. They made conversation with a few of the guests, Sam Marston, head of Teen Vision, Dr. and Mrs. Lionel Fox, one of the organizations biggest contributors, a couple of high school counselors.

“Elizabeth! I didn’t realize you would be here!” It was Gwen Petersen. She was there with her husband, Jim, district manager for Wells Fargo Bank, and apparently she was a good friend of Elizabeth’s.

“I hadn’t planned to come until Carson was kind enough to invite me. I meant to call you. I’ve just been so busy.”

Gwen’s gaze swung from Elizabeth to Carson, lingered there a moment as if she were contemplating the two of them together, then she smiled.

“Well, what a nice idea.” She was a petite woman with red hair and attractive features. She and her husband had a couple of little boys, if he recalled correctly, and he usually did.

Carson returned her smile. “I think it was a very good idea.”

Gwen’s gaze returned to her friend. “I’ll call you the first of the week. We definitely need to have lunch.”

Elizabeth nodded. “See you then.”

It was nearly time to start the proceedings. Carson seated Elizabeth at the white-draped head table and took a seat beside her.

The room began to quiet as the last of the guests took their places at the tables. The benefit was being held in the banquet room of the Holiday Inn, where most local occasions took place.

Carson introduced Elizabeth to the other people seated at the front of the room, some of whom she knew, and they all conversed politely as dinner was served, the usual rubber chicken in some kind of dull brown gravy, lukewarm mashed potatoes and overcooked broccoli. Dessert followed, a decent chocolate mousse that managed to satisfy the holes in his appetite the scant meal had been unable to fill.

Then the speeches began. Sam Marston talked about the progress they were making at the youth farm. John Dillon, one of the high school counselors, spoke about the opportunities the farm provided for troubled teenage boys. Carson was introduced last and received a big round of applause.

He straightened his tuxedo jacket as he moved behind the podium. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It’s gratifying to see such a fantastic turnout for such a worthy cause.” More applause. He’d always liked the sound of it. “Sam told you a little about the farm. Let me tell you a little about the boys enrolled in Teen Vision.”

He began with a brief history of some of the youths who had graduated from the farm. By the time he had finished describing the tragedies suffered by some of the young men and how Teen Vision had changed their lives, the entire hall had fallen completely silent.

“You’ve all been generous in your contributions. I hope you’ll continue to support the farm as you have in the past. Tonight we’ll be accepting donations. Just take your checks over to the table next to the door and Mrs. Grayson will give you a receipt you can use for your income taxes.”

Everyone applauded vigorously and Carson sat back down next to Elizabeth.

“You were wonderful,” she said, her pretty blue eyes shining. “You really painted a picture of what those boys have suffered.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a very worthwhile project. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

She was looking up at him and smiling. He liked that in a woman, that she appreciated a man and let him know it. And he liked the way she looked in that dress, sexy yet classy. Not too overblown. With a little more money to spend on the suits she wore, she would even look good in those.

“The band is starting to play,” he said. “Why don’t we dance?”

Elizabeth smiled. “I’d love to.” She rose from her chair and led the way to the dance floor. Carson watched the sway of her behind and smiled approvingly. Sexy but not too flashy, a good memory for names, he had discovered, and a decent conversationalist, as well.

Interesting.

A slow song began. He eased her into his arms and her hands slid up around his neck. They stepped into the music as if they had danced together a dozen times and he liked the way their bodies fit together.

“You’re a very good dancer,” she said.

“I try.” He thought of the ballroom dance lessons his mother had insisted he take when he was a boy. The effort was paying off now, as she had promised, though at the time he had hated every minute. “I’ve always loved to dance.”

“So have I.” Elizabeth followed him easily, making him look even better than he usually did. Her waist was trim, her body firm beneath his hands. He had always found her attractive. He was surprised he had not given her more consideration before.

Then again, his political ambitions had loomed further in the future. Recently, that had begun to change.

The song ended. Carson followed Elizabeth off the dance floor, then both of them came to a sudden halt as a dark-haired man stepped in their way.

“Well, look who’s here,” Carson drawled, staring into his brother’s gold-flecked brown eyes. Times changed, but some things didn’t. His feelings for Zach—or lack thereof—were one of them.

Elizabeth looked from Carson to the man standing toe-to-toe with him, dark-haired, dark-eyed. Unbelievably handsome. The realization hit her—she had seen this man at the barn. Though his face had been hidden behind a pair of wraparound sunglasses, it was the man she had seen working on the barn at Teen Vision. And now she knew why he had seemed so familiar.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Carson said to him, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. Elizabeth knew why. The man standing in front of her was Carson’s half brother.

“I changed my mind.” Zachary Harcourt’s gaze moved to her and he flashed a smile that looked incredibly white against his dark skin. “Hello, Liz.”

Her whole body stiffened. “Hello, Zach. It’s been a while.” But not long enough, she thought, remembering the last time she had seen him, remembering how drunk and insulting he had been, his eyes dilated from whatever drug he had been using at the time. She’d been a senior in high school, working part-time at Marge’s Café. “I didn’t know you were back in San Pico.”

“I’m not. Not officially. Though I gather you’re living here now.”

“I’ve been back for a couple of years.” She didn’t tell him she had seen him out at Teen Vision, but she silently questioned Carson’s judgment in allowing a man like his brother around a group of impressionable teenage boys.

“Nice party,” Zach said, glancing around at the women in formal gowns, the men in tuxedos. “If you like rubber chicken and a band whose usual gig is the veteran’s hall.”

“This is San Pico, not L.A.” Carson said stiffly, reaching up to adjust his black bow tie. “We’re here to raise money, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“After that tear-jerking little speech you gave, how could I possibly forget? Nice job, by the way.” Zach’s tux looked expensive, Italian, judging from the fabric and cut, Armani or maybe Valentino, designers who specialized in clothes for men with the lean, hard build of a fashion model.

She wondered where he got the kind of money to buy clothes like that and thought maybe he had moved up to selling drugs these days. At least he no longer had the dazed look of a user.

“Mrs. Grayson will be happy to take your check,” Carson taunted.

Zach arched a sleek, nearly black eyebrow. “I’m sure she’d be willing to take yours, too.”

Carson cast him a warning glance. There had never been any love lost between the two brothers. It looked like that hadn’t changed. “You said you weren’t coming. Why’d you change your mind?”

Those dark eyes strayed toward Elizabeth. “I figured it would give me a chance to say hello to a few old friends.”