Читать книгу Where Secrets Sleep - Marta Perry - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WASN’T MORE than a few minutes later that Allison saw the door of her office slowly begin to open. If Blackburn had returned for another round—

But the face that peered around the corner of the door was a small one, topped by a shock of wheat-colored hair. Brown eyes surveyed her with curiosity.

She smiled. “Come in. Did you want to see me?”

The answering smile identified him beyond any doubt, since it bore an uncanny resemblance to Nick’s. This had to be Nick’s son.

“Hi. I’m Jamie.” He sidled in, darting a look around the room.

“I thought you must be.” She pushed her chair away from the desk. “I’m Allison. It’s nice to meet you.”

He nodded, as if to say he already knew that. “I’m called Jamie because my grandpa is Jim, and Grammy says it would be too confusing if I was Jimmy, ’cause sometimes she calls him that when she’s being silly.”

Allison nodded, engaged by his artless chatter. “That makes good sense. And Jamie’s a nice name.”

“It’s okay. I’m the only Jamie in first grade, anyway. Do you have a nickname?”

“My brothers always called me Ally.” She had a quick memory of Luke and Chad at that age, always exploding with energy.

Jamie’s gaze flickered around the office again. “My daddy says you have a cat. He said you hit him with it.”

She had to repress a smile at this artless confession. “I bumped him with the cat’s carrier. I didn’t mean to.” That wasn’t exactly true, but she hadn’t meant to hit Nick in particular. Just whoever had grabbed her.

Jamie stooped to look under the desk. “I thought maybe your cat would be here.”

Clearly it was Hector who was the attraction. “Hector is over at Mrs. Anderson’s house. He was taking a nap with her cat when I left, so I let him stay.”

She expected Jamie to be disappointed, but he grinned.

“He’s having a sleepover. My friend Kevin had a sleepover at my house once, but he had a bad dream in the night, and Daddy had to take him home. Daddy said he should have known better than to say yes, but Grammy said they shouldn’t say no just because it was incon...incon...”

“Inconvenient?” she supplied.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Jamie was swinging on the edge of her desk by this time, seeming sure of his welcome. “And Daddy said he was the one who had to drive back to town at one o’clock and she said it wouldn’t hurt him. And Uncle Mac said—”

Allison began to feel a bit guilty listening to all this. “Maybe the sleepover will work better the next time you try.”

“Maybe,” he said, sounding doubtful.

“So you live with your grammy and grandpa, do you?” she asked, trying to change the subject but having little idea what interested a six-year-old.

“Grammy, Grandpa, Daddy, Uncle Mac and me. And Shep, that’s the dog.”

“Sounds like a full house.” And it sounded as if Jamie was surrounded by people he loved. His parents were divorced, according to Sarah, but wasn’t his mother in the picture?

“Yep.” He came closer, leaning confidingly on the arm of her chair. “My mommy lives in Los Angeles. Sometimes she sends me presents.”

That was said very matter-of-factly, but it caused a twinge in Allison’s heart. “When I was little, my daddy lived far away, but he used to send me presents sometimes, too.”

He nodded, fixing a pair of big brown eyes on her face. “Did he sometimes send things that were too babyish for you?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “I guess he just didn’t know how much I’d grown.”

“Yeah, that must be it. Can I see your cat sometime?”

“Sure you can. Anytime.” There must be a kind of universal pattern for children who had a parent leave them behind. But Jamie seemed to be well provided for with people who cared for him, and he had plenty of confidence.

“Jamie!” The voice floated up from below. “Jamie, where are you?”

“Sounds as if we’d better tell your daddy where you are, right?” She rose, thinking she’d walk him to the door.

“Sure thing.” He grabbed her hand. “You come, too, okay?”

Since he was tugging her along, she didn’t have much choice. They reached the head of the stairs, and she glanced down, seeing Nick staring up at them, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of her with his son.

Jamie pulled her hand. “Come on, Ally.”

They started down the steps, with Jamie’s hand confidently in hers. It felt nice. He was the first person she’d met since she’d arrived in town who hadn’t wanted something from her.

Jamie seemed to feel her watching him. He looked up as they neared the bottom of the stairs. “Were you scared last night?”

“Scared?” Her mind spun. “What makes you think that?”

“I heard Uncle Mac and Daddy talking, and Daddy said somebody might be trying to scare you. And Uncle Mac said maybe you were imagining it.”

“So that’s what Uncle Mac thinks, is it?” It sounded as if her little chat with the police chief hadn’t gotten her anywhere.

“That’s what he says when I say there’s something under my bed.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s not really anything under your bed.” That had to be the right response, didn’t it? As for the Whiting brothers...

She met Nick’s eyes and realized he’d overheard.

His gaze slid away from hers, and color came up under his tan. “Jamie, it’s not polite to listen to what other people are saying.”

“But, Daddy, you’re always telling me to listen when grown-ups talk.”

Allison’s lips twitched. “I think he has you there.”

Nick’s embarrassment dissolved in a smile. “Sorry. Mac was just, well, trying to figure out the possibilities.”

“I’m sure.” She longed to ask him if he’d meant it when he said someone might be trying to scare her away, but she couldn’t say that in front of the child.

“Daddy, Ally says I can come see her cat anytime.” Jamie was tugging on Nick’s sleeve.

“She does, does she?” Nick looked down at his son, and there was suddenly so much love in his expression that her heart turned over. Nick gave her a questioning glance. “Ally?”

“That’s her nickname,” Jamie said, sounding important. “Her little brothers used to call her that.”

Nick’s brows went up. “I didn’t know you had brothers.”

There was no reason why he should. “Two of them. Half brothers, to be exact. They’re ten years younger than I am. Twins.”

“Wish I was a twin. It would be fun to have someone look just like me.”

“Two of you?” Nick ruffled his hair. “I think one is enough. Look, here’s Grammy.”

Jamie went running to the woman who’d just come in the front door. He hurled himself at her legs. “Grammy, Grammy! I got a star on my spelling homework, and Ally says I can come see her cat anytime I want.”

The woman bent to hug him. “That’s great, Jamie. Do you want to introduce me to your new friend?”

He took her hand and pulled her over. “Ally, this is Grammy.”

“Allison Standish,” Nick murmured.

“I’m Ellen Whiting.” She held out her hand to Allison with a wide smile. “Welcome to Laurel Ridge. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

They were unmistakable, Allison thought, for three generations of one family. Nick had his mother’s eyes, and Jamie her wide, happy smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ellen. Jamie has been telling me about his family.”

“Telling you all the family secrets, no doubt.” She smiled. “Not that any of them are very secret. Jamie loves to chatter, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Jamie’s grin echoed hers, and he nodded.

“Now, Allison, we have to get better acquainted. Goodness, I remember your father from when we were in elementary school together. You must come and have supper with us one night.”

“That...that’s very nice of you.” But she wasn’t sure she wanted to get any further involved with the Whiting family. They, like everyone else, had a vested interest in any decisions she made about Blackburn House.

“Good.” Ellen seemed to take that as an acceptance, though she hadn’t meant it that way. “What about tonight?”

“I’m afraid I have something else going on this evening.” She wasn’t particularly looking forward to Brenda’s cocktail party, but it was a valid excuse.

“Tomorrow night, then,” Ellen said, her tone brisk and decided. “Nick will pick you up at five o’clock. We eat early with a little guy in the house.”

“I don’t...” She wasn’t sure which to tackle first. “There’s no reason for Nick to drive me. Just give me your address and I’ll set the GPS.”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. Nick will be delighted, won’t you, Nick?”

The expression on Nick’s face didn’t speak of delight, but his mother didn’t seem to notice. “You’re being bossy, Mom,” he pointed out. “Maybe she’d rather drive herself.”

So she can leave early. The words were unspoken but clear to Allison.

“Don’t be silly. We don’t want her getting lost on those back roads.” She clasped Allison’s hand. “We’re glad you’ve come home to Laurel Ridge at last, Allison.”

Allison wanted to deny that Laurel Ridge was home to her in any sense. But she couldn’t deny the warmth of Ellen Whiting’s welcome.

* * *

TWO SOCIAL INVITATIONS in such a short period of time ought to be gratifying, Allison told herself. Would be, if not for the fact that she wanted to stay detached from the residents of Laurel Ridge, given the decisions she had to make.

She stood in the center hallway of the home her father had grown up in that evening, wondering what she was doing here. Mrs. Anderson hadn’t been able to mask her surprise when Allison mentioned where she was headed, but Allison hadn’t been able to tell whether the surprise was at Allison being asked to the Standish house or at Brenda for hosting a party.

Laurel Ridge seemed to have more than its share of large Victorian homes—relics, so Sarah had told her, of the days when the town was founded and lumber barons grew rich on the virgin timber of the ridges.

The Standish place was more modest than Blackburn House, making her wonder if that was part of the obvious rivalry between the families. But her father’s home had a grace and charm of its own. Pocket doors on either side of the central hallway led on the right to a dining room where an oval cherry table carried an array of finger sandwiches and hors d’oeuvres and on the left to a formal living room. Several well-dressed women were cruising the table, while a few men gathered around a sideboard bearing wine bottles and glasses.

Allison accepted a cup of punch from a white-aproned server and moved toward the living room. She’d greet her hostess, make the rounds and slip away early, before anyone could try to persuade her—

She stopped, staring at the silver-framed photograph that stood on the ornate Victorian mantel. This, then, was her grandmother. Allison moved closer, studying the features of the woman who’d been such a mystery to her.

Evelyn Standish must have been in her seventies when the photograph was taken, but she sat with her shoulders erect and her head held high. The face was austere and fine-boned, but with a hint of softness in the eyes. Or was Allison just hoping she read there some regret? Nonsense. Evelyn Standish had made her choice clear when she’d wiped her granddaughter out of her life. It was too late to go back now.

“Allison. You’re here.” Brenda, turning away from the fireplace, sounded as if she didn’t know quite what to do with Allison now that she’d invited her. “I’m sure there are people who’d be delighted to talk with you.” She looked around as if hoping to spot someone.

A hefty male figure loomed up behind her. “Well, this must be the long-lost granddaughter.” He nudged Brenda as he ran an obviously experienced eye over Allison. “Introduce me.”

“Yes, of course.” Brenda’s relief was visible. “Allison, this is Thomas—”

“Tommy Blackburn,” he said, seizing Allison’s hand and holding it a bit too long. “Don’t call me Thomas or I’ll think you mean my father. Glad to meet you. Nice of Brenda to arrange this little shindig so we can get acquainted.”

Allison freed her hand from his. “It was thoughtful of her.” But exactly what Brenda’s thought had been, she couldn’t say.

“What do you think of Laurel Ridge now that you’ve had a chance to see it?” He grinned and nudged her. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it, right?”

Tommy Blackburn was as much a contrast to his father as she could imagine. He had to be in his forties, at least, and what man that age still wanted to be known as “Tommy”? Ruddy, jovial, with thinning hair and an incipient paunch, he looked as if he’d spent the afternoon on a golf course.

“I’ve met your father,” she said, taking a step back as he invaded her comfort zone.

“I heard.” He rolled his eyes. “You have my sympathy. The old man is obsessed about getting Blackburn House back in the family.”

Allison lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t share his eagerness?”

“Who wants to be burdened with more property? The way the economy is going, the only sensible thing to do with money is enjoy it. You can guess he doesn’t agree with that idea.”

“No, I can see that he wouldn’t.” Apparently Blackburn’s son had no desire to be an empire builder.

“Now here’s the Blackburn that will see us into the future.” Tommy reached out a long arm and caught a passing teenager by the shoulder. “T.J., say hello to Ms. Standish. Allison, this is my boy, Thomas Jeffers Blackburn.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Standish.” The boy, who couldn’t be much over seventeen or eighteen, had a prep school blazer and prep school manners, but his gaze swept over her figure much as his father’s had done. With his dark curly hair and that bold gaze, he probably had the teenage girls lining up for dates.

“Do you go to school here in Laurel Ridge, T.J.?” she asked, nodding to the prep school crest.

“St. Francis.” He shrugged gracefully. “Old family tradition, and all that.” He glanced from her to his father. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to be getting some punch for Mrs. Conner.”

“Sure, go on, then, before she thinks you’ve forgotten.” His father waved him away. “He’s a good kid. Closer to my father than I am, I think sometimes.” Tommy leaned in a bit. “I’ll bet you’d like to see something of the place where your dad grew up. Let me show you around. There’s a sunroom on the back that has a nice view of the gardens. This way.” He put his hand on her waist, as if to steer her toward the hall, and let it drift down over her hip.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll let my cousin show me around if she cares to.” She slid away from his grasp. Did he find that approach actually worked on women? Or maybe he expected the Blackburn name to awe her.

With a polite nod, she crossed the room to where Brenda stood, gesturing with a glass dessert plate as she talked to a tall redhead with overly made-up eyes and a sulky smile.

Brenda swung toward her, arranging her face in a smile that seemed to argue with her anxious eyes. “Are you enjoying yourself, Allison? Tommy especially wanted to meet you.”

“I noticed,” she said, and the redhead gave her a surprised, involuntary smile. Up close, the girl was not as old as she wanted people to think, plainly still in her teens.

“This...this is my daughter. Krysta.” Brenda touched the girl’s arm lightly. “We were just...” She let the sentence die out, as if she didn’t want to finish it.

Disagreeing about something, Allison would guess, judging by the sulky look that settled back on to Krysta’s face.

“I don’t see any reason why I have to hang around,” she muttered. “It’s just a bunch of old people making stupid conversation.”

Allison had to suppress a smile. Krysta would probably class her with the old people and be surprised to learn Allison felt very much the same.

“Don’t talk like that.” The words should have been a reprimand, but instead they sounded like a plea. “You know I wanted you here to meet your cousin Allison and make her feel welcome.”

“Welcome!” Krysta threw off her mother’s hand with an impatient gesture. “Like anybody welcomes her. Why don’t you tell her the truth?” Her voice had risen, and Allison felt the embarrassment anyone experiences when someone else’s child is acting out in public.

She took a step back, and the movement seemed to draw Krysta’s fulminating gaze to her. The girl’s blue eyes narrowed. “You want to know why Evelyn left Blackburn House to you? I’ll tell you. She wanted to humiliate us, that’s why.”

Krysta’s voice had risen above the chatter of the crowd, and she seemed suddenly aware that people were staring at her.

“You are behaving like a child, Krysta Conner. Perhaps you’d better go to your room until you can manage to act like an adult.”

The woman who spoke had gray hair cut mannishly, a forbidding expression and a commanding voice. She stared Krysta down without apparent effort, and the girl turned and ran from the room, face flaming.

Forced chatter resumed as people cast sidelong glances at Brenda, whose face was nearly as scarlet as that of her daughter’s.

“Really, Julia, you didn’t need to speak to her that way.” Brenda’s protest was muted.

“Someone had to. It should have come from you. You’re her mother. I’d suggest you develop some backbone before that headstrong daughter of yours does something you’ll both regret.”

For an instant Allison thought Brenda would flare out. Then she shook her head and carried her plate over to a side table.

The woman flashed a glance at Allison. “I always think one of the privileges of getting to be an ugly old woman is being able to say what you really think. I’m Julia Everly. I was a friend of your grandmother’s.” Her smile showed patently false teeth and gave her a shark-like look. “Well, sometimes we were friends and sometimes enemies. At least we were never boring.”

Allison couldn’t help laughing. “I can readily believe that.”

Julia gave an unrepentant grin. “You’re wondering why your grandmother left Blackburn House to you. Trust me, it wasn’t because of anything Brenda and Krysta said or did.”

Allison studied her. Despite what she’d said, Julia wasn’t exactly ugly. With her round, wrinkled face and bright eyes she resembled an intelligent monkey. She would never have had the kind of classic beauty that Evelyn must have possessed, but she was instantly likeable.

“Is this a guessing game or do you know why my grandmother left it to me?” she demanded, suspecting Julia preferred people to be as direct as she was.

The woman shrugged. “Can’t say I knew everything she was thinking. Evelyn had a way of keeping her own counsel when she wanted. But I do know that she’d always planned to make provision for you. When your mother remarried, she said to me, ‘Julia, that little girl will be all right now, so I won’t rock the boat. But when I go, I’ll see that she’s taken care of.’”

That didn’t answer all of her questions, but it was more helpful than anything else she’d learned since she came to Laurel Ridge. So, her grandmother had known about her life, even without contacting her. And she’d at least considered her.

She realized Julia was studying her face and spoke quickly. “Thank you. I appreciate your telling me.”

Julia squeezed her hand, and Allison felt the woman’s cluster of rings bite into her fingers. “Don’t you let anybody rush you into any decisions. That’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Come to lunch one day, and we’ll talk. I’ll call you.”

“Thank you,” she said, before it occurred to her that she’d planned to be gone in a week’s time. But nothing seemed as clear-cut now as it had when she’d made that plan.

By the time an hour had passed, Allison had been introduced to so many people and had made so much meaningless chatter that her head felt about to split. She caught a passing server and asked directions to a powder room, thinking to escape the noise for a few minutes.

The girl pointed vaguely to the back of the center hallway, and Allison walked quickly in that direction. Surely she’d been here long enough to satisfy the demands of courtesy. She’d find Brenda and make her excuses.

She opened the door at the end of the hall, took one step forward and froze. She’d wandered into the sunroom Tommy had spoken of, and she wasn’t alone. T.J. and Krysta were sprawled on a wicker sofa, with the girl’s dress pulled up nearly to her waist.

The door swung shut behind her, and they both turned at the sound. T.J., eyes heavy-lidded and mouth swollen, looked both older and more dangerous than the prep-school image he’d projected earlier, while Krysta, paradoxically, looked younger and more vulnerable. She scrambled to her feet, smoothing her dress down.

“I told you we shouldn’t.” Krysta’s voice quavered.

“Didn’t figure on somebody spying on us.” T.J. got to his feet and took a swaggering step toward Allison. “What is it to you, anyway?”

“It’s nothing to me what you do, T.J.” Allison kept her voice even. “But Krysta is my cousin.”

Krysta seemed to regain her persona now that she was decently covered. “I don’t need a cousin like you.” She practically spat the words.

“I’m not thrilled with the relationship myself,” Allison said. “Get back to the party, and I won’t say anything to your mother.”

Krysta glared at her for a moment. Allison didn’t move. It would take more than a couple of spoiled teenagers to make her back down.

Finally, muttering a vulgarity that Allison chose to ignore, Krysta ran out of the sunroom. T.J. gave her a head start, then strolled toward the door, brushing against Allison deliberately. Then he was gone.

Allison let out a long breath. It had begun to seem that for every friend she made in this place, she racked up twice as many enemies. But Krysta, no matter how sulky and spoiled, was her cousin, and she couldn’t pretend that didn’t mean something to her, no matter how inconvenient.

* * *

IT HAD BEEN a mistake to let his mother anywhere near Allison Standish, Nick decided as he drove to the bed-and-breakfast to pick up Allison for supper the next evening. Not that he could have prevented it.

He might have known Mom couldn’t resist the temptation to start mothering Allison. Ellen Whiting collected strays the way some women collected shoes. It never seemed to occur to her that some of them might not want to be gathered up in her motherly embrace.

He hadn’t missed the expression on Allison’s face when his mother insisted he’d come for her. It had probably mirrored his own. Well, they were both stuck.

He’d be polite to Allison, of course. He just didn’t want to be entangled with the woman. She might very easily prove to be bad news for all of them. If she found some way of selling Blackburn House, he didn’t doubt that Thomas Blackburn would be waiting to snatch it up. He’d made no secret of the fact that he intended to buy the place as soon as probate was settled. He just hadn’t known that Allison would be the one to inherit. Heaven only knew what plans he might have for the place.

And if Allison herself decided to run it, he could hardly think the situation would be much better. She had no knowledge of how things functioned in a town like Laurel Ridge, and obviously no desire to learn.

He’d presented his role as mayor lightly when Allison had asked about it, but it wasn’t as simple as he’d made it sound. He’d run for office because he thought Laurel Ridge needed protection from those who advocated change at any cost. Not that he was a reactionary, but Laurel Ridge was a good place to live and to raise a child. It deserved people in power who appreciated its positive qualities and took thought for its future instead of running after short-term profits.

All things considered, the inhabitants of Blackburn House might be better off with Brenda Conner in charge. She was so obsessed with turning herself into the social leader her aunt had been that she’d be unlikely to rock the boat.

He stopped in front of the bed-and-breakfast, got out and took a deep breath, feeling like someone who’d been coerced into a blind date with a buddy’s visiting cousin. That sort of thing never worked out well.

By the time he reached the porch, Allison was coming to meet him. At least she hadn’t kept him waiting. He’d give her points for punctuality.

She stepped forward to face him, and his breath caught. He’d have to change the comparison. This wasn’t in the least like going out with someone’s ugly duckling cousin. Allison wore a dress of sea green that matched her eyes and swirled around her legs with every movement. Her hair swirled as well, swinging glossy and smooth as silk, and the heels she wore made her legs seem to go on forever. With an effort, he tore his gaze from those legs—a little late, judging by her expression.

“Is there something wrong with the way I’m dressed?”

“Trust me, there’s nothing at all wrong.” She might be a bit overdressed for a simple supper at the Whiting household, but that didn’t mean her appearance wouldn’t be appreciated.

When they reached the car, he opened the door for her and raised an eyebrow when she slid in without comment.

“Aren’t you going to tell me you can open car doors by yourself?” He leaned against the frame of the door, looking down at her.

She smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your mother.”