Читать книгу The Parks Empire: Secrets, Lies and Loves - Marie Ferrarella - Страница 9

The private telephone line rang in the quietly luxurious office located above Parks Fine Jewelry, West-Coast rival to Tiffany’s in New York.

Walter Parks lifted the receiver. “Yes?” he said without preamble. He listened to the message with no expression, then asked one question. “You’re sure?”

The caller answered affirmatively.

“Send me a copy of the death certificate,” Walter ordered the private detective. “No, not here,” he said a trifle impatiently as if the man should have figured it out for himself. “To the post office box.”

In twenty-five years, he’d well learned how to cover his tracks. The post office box was with a private postal service two doors down the street. No one in his family knew of it. But then, no one in the family knew much of anything that he didn’t want them to know.

He replaced the phone and stood by the window, watching the December rain fall endlessly from the winter sky. The only place as cold and dismal as San Francisco could be in the winter was San Francisco in the summer on days when the coastal fog shrouded the city.

So. Marla was dead. About damned time. Twenty-five years he’d had to worry about her, and had even felt guilty at times about her and her pack of brats. But no more.

As his old man, poor as the proverbial church mouse, had often said—life was what it was and a man had to look after his own fate.

Walter had found that to be true. The gods of fortune smiled on those who grabbed each opportunity when it came along. A slow man was a loser. That man wasn’t him.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to sense the weight rolling off his back, to experience the easing of it in his spirit. Realizing he didn’t feel lighter in heart, body or soul, he grimaced. No matter. The last link to his past, the dangerous part of it at any rate, was gone.

He put a hand to his chest. A little heartburn there. He should eat healthier. He knew it. And no alcohol, except for a couple of glasses of wine. That was good for the ol’ ticker, according to the doctors.

The rain pelted the windowpane in a wind-blown fury, sending an odd chill along the back of his neck. He rubbed the spot, then started as the phone rang again. Glancing at the light, he saw it was his office line.

“Parks,” he said upon answering.

The caller was his oldest son, destined to one day run the company. Pride lifted his spirits. He and Anna had produced a fine brood, if he did say so himself.

Cade was the best of the bunch—smart, handsome and coolheaded. Walter had wanted the boy in the office with him, but Cade hadn’t been interested in the diamond and jewelry business, the wheeling and dealing on a global level. He’d been fascinated by the law. Walter had conceded a lawyer wasn’t a bad thing to have in the family.

Now the boy worked for a prestigious law firm—something Walter had personally seen to—and handled the business of the jewelry company from contracts to taxes. At twenty-nine, Cade already knew every aspect of the diamond trade. He was in position to take over when Walter needed him to. The boy’s sense of responsibility would see to that.

“Cade, how about some lunch?” Walter asked in a jovial tone. “Top o’the Mark in half an hour?”

“Fine. I have the information you wanted on King Abbar and his son, Prince Lazhar, of Daniz. The king is ill. I understand the son handles most of the details of running the kingdom nowadays. Shall I bring the folder with me?”

“Yes.”

Walter smiled as he hung up. Daniz was one of those tiny European countries most people had never heard of. Which showed how stupid most people were. Its diamonds were some of the finest in the world. A new find, its mines produced pink-and champagne-colored stones, which fortunately were becoming the rage among the celebrity crowd…with a few judicious gifts here and there on his part. A sharp deal with the ruler could be lucrative for them both.

Two pieces of good news in one day. A fine way to start the new year. The gods were truly smiling, even if the heavens were not. He instructed his secretary to call for his car and hardly noticed the rain as he headed to lunch.

Sara Carlton shivered as a gust of wind hit her. Someone needed to tell the weatherman that winter was six months ago and it was now June, not January.

Pulling her jacket closer around her, she stared at the elegant house standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a whole block of equally expensive Georgian-style homes.

Since she’d done her homework before moving from Denver to San Francisco, she knew a kindergarten teacher, which she was, couldn’t afford the rent on such a prime piece of property in the St. Francis Woods area of the city. Fortunately she didn’t have to.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Rachel Hanson commented.

Rachel was a kindergarten teacher at Lakeside, a prestigious private school only three blocks from there and the place, come Monday, where Sara would also be employed. Rachel was also the older sister of Sara’s best friend from her high-school days back in Denver. She had taken Sara under her wing when Sara had written for information about teaching positions in the city back in January.

Five years older than Sara’s own twenty-nine years, Rachel had graduated from college, married and moved to the West Coast while the two younger girls had been high-school seniors. Her husband had abandoned her, so Sara assumed they were divorced. Rachel knew why Sara and her brother had returned to the area and was wholly sympathetic to their quest.

“Very much so,” Sara agreed, her gaze sweeping over the tiny front yard and decorative wrought-iron fence that separated the patch of green from the street. “I can’t believe my luck in getting to house-sit a mansion for six months. Are you sure your artist friend said it was okay?”

Rachel laughed at Sara’s doubts. “You only get half the mansion,” she corrected. “It’s a duplex. And yes, I made sure we got permission in writing since the owner is actually a friend of a friend. Let’s go inside.”

The front walk widened to accommodate three steps and a marble-tiled stoop. Two identical doors—both white with leaded oval windows in beveled, frosted panes that formed a woodland scene on each—were set side-by-side in the sheltered alcove and gave entrance to the two homes.

Rachel had explained in a letter that the mansion was divided into two town houses, which meant the bedrooms of each were directly over their respective living room-kitchen-den areas, which afforded the maximum privacy for each occupying family.

Sara inserted the key Rachel had handed her and opened the door on the left. The chill of an unoccupied house rushed over her as she stepped into the foyer. It settled along her spine like the touch of a cold, unfriendly hand…a ghost who wasn’t happy at her intrusion, she surmised.

“There’s a fireplace,” Rachel said. “This place could use some heat. Let’s see if we can find the thermostat.”

The foyer floor was pink-marble-edged with black granite. Sara followed the other woman into the living room, which opened to the left of the foyer. The wall to the right divided the mansion into the two town houses.

“Don’t you like it?” Rachel asked.

Realizing she’d been silent too long, Sara put on her brightest smile and nodded. “What’s not to like?”

She made a sweeping gesture of the place. The walls and velvet curtains were pale coral, the trim and crown molding glossy white, the accent color black. The colors were taken from a Chinese vase, which was about four feet tall and stood on a black pedestal, with ornately carved balls for legs, to one side of the fireplace. The vase was a mosaic of peaceful garden scenes.

The twenty-foot ceiling was interrupted by a loft that jutted halfway across the room and housed a collection of books and Chinese art in green and pink jade in its wall-to-wall bookcases. Access to the loft was by a library ladder attached to a brass railing with brass rings on the top end.

The loft had a black wrought-iron railing across it with a gate that at present was open. The ladder could be pushed against the far wall when it wasn’t needed.

“Clever,” Sara said, then surveyed the rest of the room. She didn’t think she would ever sit on the velvet sofa of deep coral with shiny, black wood trim. Ebony, maybe? Or Chinese lacquer? She wasn’t sure about the wood.

End tables and a coffee table were also black and inlaid with ivory birds and jade bamboo. A collection of Chinese puzzle boxes was displayed in a glass cabinet that had a lock on it. The carpet looked Oriental.

“This looks too expensive to use,” she murmured to the other teacher. Rachel’s one-bedroom flat, where Sara had gone upon arriving in town that morning, didn’t compare to the opulence of this place.

“I agree. The kitchen and den are through here,” Rachel told her. “They’re more comfortable.”

White cabinets on either side of the fireplace had glass doors opening to both the living room and the kitchen. Fine china and more collectibles were inside.

The kitchen had black granite counters. The cabinets were white. The coral walls continued in here as did the oak floors that were stained rather dark for her taste.

Not that anybody would ask her.

Once she’d lived in a mansion only a few miles from this neighborhood, but that had been years ago. She’d been in junior kindergarten herself back then. Back before her father mysteriously disappeared, presumably drowned, from a yacht off the coast of California. Back before her family had lost its diamond-trading and jewelry business. She pushed the bitter thoughts aside as she continued the inspection of her new, albeit temporary, home.

The stainless-steel appliances stood in modern contrast to the Oriental feel of the town house. Between the kitchen and den was a small, formal dining room—table and chairs in the shiny black wood, two vases holding peacock plumes, Chinese scrolls with black lettering on the walls.

“Ah,” Sara said, entering the den, “this is lovely.”

While the floors and walls repeated the Oriental theme, the sofa was leather and two easy chairs were covered in fabric, all in earthy browns and tans. Tiny figurines carved in jade, onyx and ivory were displayed in another small glass case hung on one wall. There was a fireplace in here, too, one that obviously had been used. A staircase led to the two second-story bedrooms.

“Here’s the television and stereo equipment.” Rachel opened the door of a built-in cabinet. “And the thermostat. What temperature do you like?”

“Sixty-eight.”

“Brr, that’s too cold for me, but you probably still have antifreeze in your blood, coming from Colorado.”

Sara had grown up counting every penny. Her family had been frugal about utilities and food and clothing out of need, but she didn’t say any of this. She heard a soft click, then the gentle stir of air in the room. “Well,” she said. “I’d better settle in. It looks like rain.”

Rachel shook her head. “Not at this time of the year. That’s just the morning fog. It’ll burn off by noon.”

It was Wednesday, the last day of June, and a cool sixty-two degrees. On Monday, July the fifth, she would start her teaching job at Lakeside. It had been pure luck that the former teacher had taken maternity leave for the year just when Sara had contacted Rachel about a position.

They brought in her clothing and the few household items she’d packed in her ancient compact car. She decided to leave her dishes and pans in their box and store them in the closet. In less than two hours, they were finished.

“Let’s go to lunch,” Rachel suggested. “There’s a Chinese place on the next block that’s wonderful. I love their noodle bowls.”

Sara shut and locked the door behind them. The sun broke through the low cloud cover as she joined her friend on the sidewalk. The city was bathed in bright warmth, and she felt comforted, as if the sunlight was a benediction on her and her quest for the truth behind her father’s death.

And vengeance for all her family had suffered?

Maybe she could find a way. With her brother’s help. Tyler was a detective with the SFPD. They would work together to solve the mysteries from their past.

The first thing Cade noticed upon arriving home that evening was an older model compact car in the driveway of the adjoining town house. Hmm, his neighbor was supposed to be in the Far East, studying the Chinese art he found so fascinating. Who was at the house?

He would investigate, but first he needed to check in with Stacy and Tai. After pulling into the garage, he dashed up the short flight of steps and into the kitchen.

Five-year-old Stacy and her sitter were in the middle of dinner preparations. “Now stir,” Stacy ordered.

Tai stirred the contents in the mixing bowl. She was twenty-one and a student at the nearby medical school. She picked up Stacy at day care every afternoon and stayed with her until Cade got home. She prepared dinner for the three of them, too. At times, his arrival was very late, but Tai never complained. She used the time to study.

Cade paused at the door and smiled. Sometimes he wondered who was the boss in this household, but then he knew—it was Stacy.

“Daddy!” she squealed when she saw him. “We’re making a cake. It’s a surprise.”

He closed his eyes. “I won’t look,” he promised.

She giggled. “It isn’t for you,” she informed him. “It’s for Sara.”

“Sara?” Cade glanced at Tai.

“She’s your new neighbor. Stacy and I found her weeding the flower bed in front of the house when we got home.”

“That explains the strange car in the drive over there,” he said. “I didn’t know Ron planned on renting the place while he was gone. He usually doesn’t trust anyone with his stuff.”

“She’s a friend of a friend,” Tai explained.

“She’s sitting the house,” Stacy added, then covered her mouth as she giggled over this.

“A house-sitter, huh?” He swung his daughter off the kitchen stool and into the air. She squealed again, this time in laughter as her baby-fine hair swirled out in a blond pouf. After a couple of spins he stopped, then they rubbed noses. Stacy had seen a movie featuring an Eskimo family and learned this was the way they kissed.

“She’s pretty,” Stacy confided when they were through with the ritual greeting. “Her hair is dark like Tai’s, but her eyes are the color of Mrs. Chong’s.”

Mrs. Chong was a very fat, very green-eyed cat belonging to Mrs. Ling, who owned the local ice-cream shop. Cade and Stacy were frequent customers.

“Do we have enough dinner to invite her over?” he asked the sitter.

“Sure,” Tai answered. “There’s a meatball and green bean casserole, roasted potatoes and salad, all ready. I’ve got to run. I’m memorizing bones this week.”

“I’m memering them, too,” Stacy declared importantly.

“Memorizing,” he automatically corrected. His daughter didn’t let pronunciation get in the way of her expressing herself. “Shall we go over and invite our neighbor to eat with us?”

“Yes, but we don’t have the surprise cake done yet.”

“Maybe she’ll help us finish it.”

“See you tomorrow,” Tai said and headed out.

Cade took her place at the mixing bowl. After he put the cake pans in the oven at Stacy’s direction, he set the timer, then held out his hand. “Let’s go meet our neighbor.”

“I already met her.”

“Good, then you can introduce us.”

They went out the front door and rang the doorbell to the other town house. In a couple of seconds, Cade saw a blurry figure hurrying to the door.

“Come in—oh!” the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen called out gaily as she swung open the door, then visibly started when she saw him.

Although Stacy had warned him their new neighbor was pretty, no words could do justice to that combination of black hair and green eyes, the eyes offset to perfection by a sweep of black lashes.

She was average in height and had the type of lithe slenderness he liked in a woman—a long-legged coltish appearance but curvy in the right places, as revealed by a jade-green outfit made of soft clingy material.

For a second, he was speechless as they stared at each other. Then emotion rippled across her face…shock? pain? anger?…he wasn’t sure.

No, he must be mistaken, for now she was smiling in a polite manner, then warmer as she glanced at Stacy, a question in her eyes.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m Cade Parks, Stacy’s dad. You must be expecting someone….” He let the words trail off into a question.

“No,” she said quickly. “Not really. Uh, I’m Sara Carlton, the new kindergarten teacher at Lakeside. Tai says Stacy will be one of my students when classes start.”

“Sara, come to our house,” Stacy invited. “We’re making a surprise for you.”

“You must call her Miss Carlton,” Cade said.

“Do I have to?” Stacy immediately asked her new teacher.

“Yes, for as long as I’m your teacher.”

Stacy nodded in understanding.

“Tai says there’s enough food for a guest. We would be honored if you would have dinner with us,” Cade told the lovely woman who stood at the door as if guarding the place. “And Stacy has prepared a surprise.”

The neighbor smiled.

Oddly, his heart started thumping. Heat gathered low in his body. Other than casual dates, he hadn’t had time for a woman since his wife died in a car crash two years ago. All his energy had been expended on his child and his work.

“I never could resist a surprise,” the neighbor said. “Let me get my keys.”

Stacy went into the house, although they hadn’t been invited. Cade stepped into the foyer, too.

“Let’s lock the front door,” he called after Sara, liking the way she moved, an almost catlike grace in her form as she stopped by a table where her purse sat. “We can go in through the back.”

When she nodded, he turned the dead bolt on the ornate front door, then followed as Stacy ran in front to walk with her new teacher. His gaze stayed fastened on the alluring sway of her body as she shortened her steps and took his daughter’s hand. Stacy chatted nonstop down the hall, out the back door, onto the shared deck and into their home.

The scent of the baking cake filled the town house, welcoming the three of them inside. “Mmm, is that the surprise I smell?” Sara asked.

“It’s a chocolate cake,” Stacy told her, unable to hold the secret inside anymore.

“My favorite,” Sara said, her eyes going wide. “How did you know?”

Stacy grinned. “Because it’s mine and Daddy’s, too.”

Their laughter flowed over and into him, adding to the intimacy of the moment. Observing their guest as he removed plates from the cabinet, he wondered if they had met before.

He felt as if they had. In another life, perhaps. Perhaps they’d been lovers, separated by some tragic fate, but destined to meet again….

A surge of need so great, it was almost a pain rolled over him. He’d never felt anything like it, not even when he fell for his wife. Rita Lambini was the deb of the season six years ago, a beautiful socialite who’d enchanted him with her smoldering glances and flirty, laughing ways.

That hadn’t lasted long.

In less than six months, the enchantment was gone, leaving the bitter knowledge that she’d married him for the money he’d inherit one day. He’d wanted out of the marriage, but she’d been pregnant by then.

Recalling his own past, with his mother in a Swiss sanitarium due to health reasons and his father only interested in the diamond business, Cade had known he couldn’t leave his child fatherless. So he’d stuck it out until Stacy was born.

Watching his daughter come into the world, he’d felt nothing but love at first sight. And it had stayed that way.

Rita, knowing she now had a weapon, had fought the divorce and threatened a lengthy custody battle. She’d even hinted she would accuse him of child abuse if he tried to kick her out.

He still felt guilty over the relief her death had brought. She’d been returning from one of her many social affairs…a few drinks and the winding, fog-slick coastal road coupled with fast driving had ended at a curve with a fifty-foot cliff on the other side. Rita had crashed through the barrier and gone over the edge—

“Daddy!” Stacy tugged at his arm.

He realized she’d been speaking to him. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“We’re ready. Sar—Miss Carlton and I set the table.”

Seeing those green eyes watching him with a curious expression in their depths, he shrugged off the past and smiled at the other two. “Good job.”

The timer buzzed just then. He removed the cake layers from the oven and put in three dinner rolls to brown while they started on the salad course.

“Is this your first teaching position?” he asked when they were seated.

“Uh, no. I taught for almost five years in Denver.”

“So what brought you to San Francisco?”

Her hesitation was noticeable. “I have friends here,” she said. “They arranged things for me.”

Disappointment hit him. “A boyfriend?”

She glanced at him, then shook her head. “A fellow teacher, actually. She’s a friend of a friend of the artist who owns the other town house.”

“Miss Hanson,” Stacy informed her father.

“Yes. Rachel and my…”

Again the pause, as if she wasn’t sure if she should disclose this much, Cade noted.

“Rachel and my brother thought I needed to get away.”

“From Denver?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Why?” He realized he sounded like a lawyer before the court, trying to wring information from a witness.

“My…my mother died after a long illness. In the winter. She loved the spring in Colorado and the wildflowers. She used to say flowers and children were the only consolations life offered.”

This last part was said with such sadness, Cade felt like a heel for making her speak of it. “I’ve caused you pain,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Her smile bloomed once more. “I thought it was time for a change, too. Meeting Stacy today convinced me this move was the right thing.”

Again he had an overwhelming sensation of déjà vu, as if they’d talked like this before, as if they’d shared secrets, laughed together. It was damned odd.

“The rolls are ready,” Stacy announced.

Cade served the rest of the meal, then they opened a can of chocolate icing and finished the cake. “Let’s sing Happy Birthday,” Stacy requested.

“It isn’t anyone’s birthday,” he reminded his daughter.

“Mine was back in the spring,” Sara told them. “No one made me a cake, so this can be a belated one.”

He thought of all she didn’t say—her grief over her mother, the loneliness in those eyes, the fragile quality that brought out something protective in him.

“Great,” he said. “Stacy, start us off.”

Stacy began. “Happy birthday to you…”

He joined in, harmonizing with her childish soprano. Their guest looked at him in surprise. He smiled, pleased that he’d managed to break through the reserve that surrounded her.

“How old are you?” Stacy demanded while he cut the cake, then served their guest first.

“Twenty-nine.”

“Stace, you’re not supposed to ask a woman her age,” he chided.

“Why?” she asked.

“Yes, why?” Sara echoed.

He pretended to think. “Darned if I know,” he finally said. “Someone told me it was rude, that women don’t like admitting how old they are.”

“We don’t mind being old, do we, Sar—Miss Carlton?”

“Not at all. Age makes one wiser, I’ve heard.”

A full, unforced smile appeared on her sensuous lips. Cade couldn’t take his gaze from them. “I’ve seen that smile before,” he said. “Where have we met?”

Sara was unprepared for the question or his intent perusal. After twenty-five years, she hadn’t expected him to make any connection to her at all. She tried to maintain the smile, but it was impossible.

“Long ago,” she said in a low voice, “we were in kindergarten together. You and I and your twin sister, Emily. Here, in San Francisco.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Yes,” he said after a thoughtful silence. “Sara Carlton. Yes. That explains the eyes. And the smile. I knew I’d seen them somewhere. I had a terrible crush on you. Then one day you left without a word. I was heartbroken.”

“We moved away.”

He nodded. “I remember. Your father died. A boating accident or something,” Cade said.

Or something, Sara echoed to herself, that something being the murder of her father by his. She bit the words back with an effort. She hated subterfuge and lies, but in this case it was necessary.

“A hard year for you,” he murmured. “For everyone,” he added on an introspective note.

His smile was sad as well as sympathetic. She knew his mother had been sent away “for health reasons” later that same year.

She rejected pity for him and his family. After all, she was here for revenge….

No, it was justice she sought. She was here to see that Walter Parks paid for his crime.