Читать книгу Tangled Memories - Marta Perry - Страница 9

Corrie froze for an instant. Obviously she should have been ready for direct hostility, but she wasn’t. What had happened to that Southern hospitality she’d heard so much about?

She stiffened her spine. Aunt Ella had taught her how to behave, and she wouldn’t shame her. She held out her hand to the older of the two women, trying to manage a smile.

Eulalie Ashworth was as soft and round and fluffy as a mound of cotton candy. She also looked perplexed. She studied Corrie’s hand as if it might be a deadly weapon and then took it. Corrie felt soft, powdery skin and smelled a whiff of lilac scent.

“Welcome to Savannah…” Eulalie began, but the younger woman interrupted.

“She’s not welcome. I don’t see any reason why we should be polite.”

“An accusation no one could possibly make about you, Deidre.” Lucas smiled, but Corrie thought his amber eyes held a warning. “Corrie, this is Eulalie’s daughter, Deidre Ashworth.”

Deidre obviously wouldn’t take her hand. Her eyes flashed with anger, and her dark hair fairly sparked with electricity. Midtwenties, at a guess, she was sharp, thin, brittle and beautifully dressed.

“Deidre. Mr. Manning mentioned you.”

Deidre lifted arched black brows. “Not calling him Grandfather already? How subtle of you.”

“I’ve already told Lucas. Now I’ll tell you.” She darted a glance at Lucas. He leaned broad shoulders against the newel post of the soaring staircase, watching her with a sardonic expression. “I don’t want anything except to find out about my parents.”

“As I said, how subtle.” Deidre was clearly not impressed. She swung on Lucas, as if he were to blame. “Do we really have to have this creature in our house?”

“Deidre, please.” Eulalie’s cheeks turned as pink as her dress. “Think what Uncle Baxter would say.”

Deidre glared at her mother. “Uncle Baxter must have entered his second childhood. We should have him declared incompetent.”

Corrie’s head began to throb. Maybe Baxter Manning had overestimated his control over his family. If they didn’t cooperate, she’d find out nothing.

“This is Baxter’s home.” Lucas’s voice hadn’t lost its lazy timbre, but there was steel underneath. “It’s up to him to say who stays here. And need I remind you who owns the house you live in?”

For a moment the fury in Deidre’s face was so out of control Corrie thought she’d strike him. Her hands clenched until the veins stood out. “You’d take Uncle Baxter’s side, of course. You always do. But then, you know which side your bread is buttered on, don’t you, Lucas?”

If the barb hurt, Lucas didn’t show it. “It’s common sense, Deidre, which you seem to be sadly lacking.”

The side door into the hall swung open.

“Grandma, is she here yet?” A small figure ran into the hallway. The boy threw himself at Lucas. “Is she, Daddy?”

Lucas caught the child, lifting him high in the air. For an instant Lucas’s face was open, and the love when he looked at his son touched a surprising chord in Corrie.

Was that what she really wanted from this trip? Some sign that the father she’d never known would have loved her?

“Please, Lucas. Put Jason down.” Eulalie fluttered toward them, hands outstretched as if to take a baby. “That’s not good for him.”

Not good for him? The words startled Corrie. Was something wrong with the boy? He looked like a normal six-year-old, fair and a little skinny, as active kids often were at that age.

But Lucas set him down immediately, something that might have been guilt flickering in his face. He brushed the boy’s silky blond hair back from his forehead gently.

“He’s all right. Corrie, this is my son, Jason. He’s eight.”

Corrie mentally adjusted her image of the child. He was a bit small for eight. He came forward to shake hands solemnly.

“Hi, Jason.” At last, someone who didn’t seem to be out to get her. She smiled at him.

“Hello, Cousin Corrie.”

Deidre jerked as if she’d been shot. “Don’t call her cousin, Jason. She’s not your cousin.”

“But Grandma said that Uncle Baxter said—”

“Just call me Corrie, okay?” She wouldn’t let a child be pulled into their quarrel. “I’m glad to meet you, Jason.”

His mother had been Deidre’s older sister—she knew that from the briefing the attorneys had given her. Julia, her name was. She’d died three years earlier.

Jason studied her, brown eyes grave. “You don’t look like a cowgirl.” He sounded disappointed.

Eulalie drew in a scandalized breath, but Corrie just smiled. Cowgirl was probably the least of the things the family had been calling her.

“Well, even cowgirls get a little dressed up to travel. My boots are in my luggage.”

Jason’s small face lit with a smile. “Maybe we can go riding while you’re here. My daddy’s a good rider. He’s won lots of ribbons.”

That was an unexpected sidelight on Lucas. “He’s probably better than I am, then.”

“Jason, you know you’re not allowed to ride,” Eulalie said. She frowned at Corrie, as if this were her fault.

“If we might get the conversation off horses, maybe we could decide what we’re doing.” Deidre poked furiously at the silver bowl of lilacs on the drop-leaf table.

“There’s no decision to be made. We’re going to do exactly what Baxter asked.” Lucas’s gaze rested on Corrie with a challenge. “I’m sure things will work out just as they should.”

In other words, he intended to expose her for a fraud.

She met his look defiantly. “Things usually do.”

His eyes darkened. For a moment the air between them sizzled with antagonism and some other emotion Corrie didn’t care to name. It was as if there was no one else in the room.

Lucas took a deliberate step back. Once again, Corrie had managed to get under his guard. He didn’t like it. He wouldn’t allow it.

Eulalie fluttered toward the archway, breaking the spell. “I don’t know why we’re all standing here in the hall. Come into the parlor, and we’ll have tea. I’m sure Corrie needs refreshment after her long trip.”

Deidre looked as if she’d like to slam out of the house. At his warning frown, she glared back, but then she turned and followed Eulalie.

He’d known from the moment Baxter told them about Corrie that Deidre would cause trouble. He sometimes had trouble remembering the lively little girl she’d been when he’d first started seeing her sister. Deidre had grown into a perennially dissatisfied young woman, and he didn’t know why.

He followed the women into the front parlor, holding Jason’s hand, and watched Corrie to see what she’d make of the place. She paused as she reached the edge of the Kirman carpet and looked the length of the room—actually adjoining parlors, divided by white Ionic columns that supported the central arch. The period furniture Baxter had collected over a lifetime was a fitting complement to the matching marble fireplaces.

“Beautiful.”

He was probably the only one who heard the breathed comment. “Home, sweet home,” he murmured.

He saw the color come up under her tan, but she didn’t look at him. She crossed instead to the brocade love seat and sat, head held high.

Eulalie poured Earl Grey from the Revere teapot. Obviously she’d decided to treat Corrie as an honored guest, since she’d had Baxter’s housekeeper get out the fragile china cups that had come to Savannah on an eighteenth-century merchant ship. Either that, or she was attempting to make Corrie feel like a fish out of water.

It was hard to tell. Eulalie had her Savannah lady face on, and no one did it better. She passed a cup and saucer to Corrie. “I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

Corrie balanced the fragile cup and saucer, looking as if tea-party conversation was beyond her. She took a breath and seemed to rally. “Not bad. Long.”

Deidre put two spoons of sugar in her cup, ignoring her mother’s frown. Eulalie didn’t need to worry. Deidre wore off everything she ate with that endless fidgeting of hers. Julia had been exactly the opposite—calm, serene, never troubling herself about anything that didn’t directly concern her.

“Where does one fly from to get out of Wyoming?” Deidre’s voice was edged with sarcasm.

He’d have to have another talk with her. There was a line between wanting to expose Corrie as a fraud and giving her an excuse to complain to Baxter about them.

“Actually, I flew out of Rapid City, South Dakota. That’s the closest airport to Ulee.” Corrie seemed to have her temper well in hand.

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of Ulee, Wyoming.” Deidre made it sound like the back of beyond, which he supposed it was. Still, plenty of people thought of Savannah as a quaint backwater, notable only for its antebellum charm.

Corrie put her cup down with an audible click. “That’s where my mother and father met and married,” she said. “I should have thought that would occasion plenty of comment.”

Of course it had. He hadn’t been old enough to care at the time, but he’d heard plenty about it later. Trey, taking a summer off to tour the country, had met a waitress in the wilds of Wyoming and married her in less than a month, then foolishly expected his father to welcome her. He should have known better.

He was mildly amused at the expression on Deidre’s face, but maybe it was time to intervene. He didn’t care to be treated to another example of Deidre’s temper.

“Has anyone seen Ainsley? I expected him to be here.”

“I—I am here, Lucas.”

Ainsley paused in the archway, looking as if he’d like any excuse to turn and go away again. Lucas couldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid the fireworks Deidre enjoyed, but he did wish Ainsley would sometimes act like a responsible grown-up instead of a shy kid.

“We missed you at work today.” He tried to keep his voice even, but some of the exasperation he felt probably came through. Pushing Ainsley into a job as Lucas’s assistant when he was just out of college wasn’t the smartest move Baxter had ever made. The boy wasn’t cut out for the business world.

Ainsley’s gaze evaded his. “I told your secretary I wasn’t well.”

“You seem to have recovered.”

“I thought I’d go for a walk, okay?” Ainsley flared up, sounding like a sulky teenager. “I always do that when I’m getting over a migraine.”

“Of course you do, dear.” Eulalie patted the love seat. “Sit here and let me pour you some tea. Everyone knows how you suffer from migraines.”

The look Eulalie shot at Lucas dared him to disagree. He wanted to. You’ve spoiled Ainsley with your constant coddling, and now you’re doing the same with my son.

But he couldn’t say that. He’d been wrong about Julia, and the guilt would hang around his neck for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t risk being wrong about Jason.

“This is Corrie,” Eulalie went on. “I knew you’d be back to meet her.”

Ainsley nodded, polite but disinterested. He’d seemed detached from the fierce family discussions that had raged since Baxter broke the news.

Lucas glanced at Corrie, to find she was leaning toward his son, listening to something Jason was saying, undoubtedly about horses. The tenderness on her face jolted him.

Corrie didn’t have any right looking at his son that way. And Baxter didn’t have any right foisting this stranger off on the family. The least he could do was come back and deal with her himself.

“Jason.” The desire to get his son away from Corrie was probably irrational, but he couldn’t help himself. “It’s time we were getting home, son.”

The animation faded from Jason’s face as he slid off the seat. “Goodbye, Cousin Corrie. I’ll see you later.”

Deidre’s lips tightened, but he silenced her with a glance. He didn’t require Deidre’s input. He could take care of his son himself.

The way you took care of Julia? The small voice in his mind inquired.

He turned to thank Eulalie, but she had become involved in arbitrating a heated exchange between Ainsley and Deidre, much as she’d done when they were small. Corrie’s eyes met his, and he realized from the amusement in them that she was thinking much the same thing.

That jolted him. She shouldn’t look at him as if they understood each other.

“Thank you for introducing me to…” There was the faintest hesitation in her voice, as if she balked at thinking of them as her family. “…to Mr. Manning’s family,” she went on smoothly. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

He leaned toward her. “Of course you will. I wouldn’t think of missing dinner on your first night here. At Eulalie’s house, at eight. We’ve invited someone who knew Trey well.”

And who won’t like your pretence any more than we do.

Corrie’s polite smile seemed to stiffen. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He could imagine. “Not so easy, is it?” He lowered his voice, not that the others would notice. They were well away with their own quarrel by now. “Always on your guard, pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“I don’t have to pretend.” Her chin lifted, and her eyes challenged him.

“I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Before she could answer, Ainsley’s tenor voice soared out of the babble.

“Stop trying to make me over. I’m not Trey, and Uncle Baxter is never going to treat me as if I am.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Lucas felt the despairing frustration that his wife’s family so often brought to the fore. It was as if he were the only adult in a roomful of children. Why didn’t they just hand Baxter’s inheritance to the woman on a silver platter?

Eulalie’s eyes were bright with tears. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ainsley. All I want is for you to be happy.”

For a moment he thought Ainsley would flare out at his mother, but he retreated into sulky silence instead. Surprisingly, it was Corrie who returned them to a semblance of normalcy.

“I’d really like to freshen up from the trip, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

Recalled to her hostess duties, Eulalie hustled to her feet. “I’ll show you to your room.”

He stepped back to let Corrie pass him. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

And maybe by then he’d have at least a preliminary report from the private investigator who was supposed to be finding out everything there was to know about Corrie Grant.

“That’s the lot of them.” Corrie leaned back on the four-poster bed, cell phone cradled against her ear. She’d just finished giving Ann Moreno a rundown of her reception. If she hadn’t been able to confide in her closest friend, she’d have burst. “And every one of them would like nothing better than to run me out of town.”

“You didn’t go to Savannah to make them like you,” Ann said. “What matters is finding out about your parents.”

She could always count on Ann for a sensible approach, and she felt a wave of longing to be sitting across from her at a scrubbed table in the café, chatting over the coffee cups.

“I just hope someone’s willing to talk about them. So far I haven’t seen any signs of that.”

“It’s early days yet. You’ll work it out. Meanwhile, don’t worry about anything here.”

“Thanks, Annie. I couldn’t do this if you hadn’t taken over the café.”

“You’d do the same for me, if I ever discovered I was a lost heiress.” Ann’s chuckle was warm. “Not that it’s very likely. You take care, honey.”

Corrie hung up, comforted. Someone, at least, had confidence in her. She glanced at her watch. Time to get dressed for dinner at Eulalie’s.

If someone back home said come on over to supper, she knew what that meant. Here, she wasn’t sure. She began to dress, hoping a denim skirt would do.

A nap and a shower had helped. She no longer felt so tense. She could even enjoy the bedroom, with its four-poster bed and cool white walls. The floral print of the bed skirt was echoed in the drapes on the many-paned windows that looked out onto the courtyard, seeming to invite the greenery in.

Taking her well-worn Bible from the suitcase, she put it on the mahogany bedside table and opened it to Psalms. The single, faded photograph of her parents she’d found among Aunt Ella’s papers looked back at her.

She picked it up, studying the young faces. Gracie smiled at her brand-new husband, her eyes soft with love. Laughter lit Trey’s lean face as he looked at his bride. They’d been newlyweds, ready to leave for Savannah so that Gracie could meet his family. What had happened in a few short months here to bring them to such a tragic end?

She had to know. She tucked the photograph back inside the Bible and closed it. She would know.

Closing the bedroom door behind her, she paused at the top of the graceful curving staircase. Sunlight streamed through French doors that opened onto a balcony from the spacious upper hallway, and pink roses in a silver urn perfumed the air.

Father, I know You’ve brought me here for a reason. Please, lead me to the people who have answers.

She went down the curving stairway, running her hand along the polished railing. Her soft footsteps on the carpet made little sound, and the crystal chandelier in the downstairs hall tinkled once in response and then was still.

“I hope being alone in the house won’t bother you,” Eulalie had said. “Mrs. Andrews does sleep in, but I’m afraid she’s so deaf she wouldn’t hear anything softer than the last trumpet.”

Corrie had already met the housekeeper, who’d regarded her with the deepest suspicion and pretended to be unable to hear anything Corrie said. If Lucas and company thought the possibility of being virtually alone was enough to scare her away, they’d better think again.

The long downstairs hallway bisected the house, leading onto a glassed-in porch that overlooked the garden. She went through it and down the curved, wrought-iron stairs. A small brick patio was flanked by flower beds overflowing with peonies and old-fashioned roses, and the railing supported such a lush growth of ivy that it threatened to take over the stairs.

The wall of Eulalie’s house formed the backdrop of the flower beds. Lovely, she supposed, but the place made her feel claustrophobic. Why did they want to live in such close quarters? Even the air was close, heavy with moisture. She could feel her hair curling in reaction.

She followed the brick pathway toward Eulalie’s door. A fountain splashed softly in the middle of the garden, and beyond it, half-hidden by the foliage, were the other two houses, a little smaller, less grand than the two that faced the street.

One of them had been the house where her parents lived during their brief time here together. It was rented to an old family friend, according to Lucas. If she could see it…

But what would that tell her after thirty years? It couldn’t tell her if they’d been happy there, or if Trey had known about Gracie’s pregnancy. Would he have been glad?

The door swung open, as if someone had been watching. The sight of Lucas cut short a line of fruitless speculation.

“Corrie, come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

That should have sounded welcoming. It didn’t.

An interminable hour and a half later they’d moved from Eulalie’s formal dining room to an equally formal front parlor. Like Baxter’s parlor next door, this one was furnished with antiques, but the effect in Eulalie’s room was crowded, rather than spacious, as if she hadn’t been able to resist the attraction of just one more crystal vase or china figurine.

The dinner guest Lucas had mentioned now patted a spot next to her on a plush love seat. “Come and sit next to me, Corrie. We must chat.”

There was nothing Corrie would like better, because Lydia Baron was the family friend who rented Trey’s house. Trey and Gracie’s house, she mentally corrected. Surely her mother had had the right to think of it as hers when she’d lived there.

She sat down, aware of the comparison between her denim and the silk dress the other woman wore. Lydia must be about Eulalie’s age, but in contrast to Eulalie’s soft, faded charm, Lydia had a brisk, down-to-earth manner and a slim, athletic frame that a younger woman might have envied. Her gray hair was short and stylish, and bright blue eyes sparkled in a tanned face.

“What are you thinking of all of us, I wonder?” Lydia sounded amused. “Pitchforked into the midst of Baxter’s dysfunctional family as you are.”

“Dysfunctional?” She’d pegged Lydia as forthright, but this seemed a little too blunt, even for a family friend.

“What can I say?” Lydia lowered her voice, but Corrie doubted anyone heard them over the wrangle Deidre and Ainsley had just begun. “You can see for yourself. No one’s happy.”

Corrie looked over that comment for hidden traps. She’d like to believe she’d found someone who’d be honest with her, but it hardly seemed possible that Lydia would take her side against the family.

“Brothers and sisters often argue, I guess. I don’t have any siblings, so I can’t say for sure.”

“Ainsley and Deidre fight with each other because they don’t want to hurt their mother’s soft heart. They’re afraid to take their quarrel to the real source of their unhappiness. Baxter Manning.”

Here was blunt speaking with a vengeance. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she said cautiously.

“Baxter has to rule the roost, surely you’ve figured that out about him. Ainsley must have a job with the company, because that’s what Baxter expects, even though the boy would rather dabble with his drawings.” She dismissed Ainsley with a glance. “Meanwhile Deidre, who actually might accomplish something in the business, is left clerking in a genteel shop, waiting to make the proper marriage.”

Corrie blinked. “Do you mean they listen to him? That sounds like something out of the last century.”

“Baxter is something out of the last century. And since he controls the purse strings, everyone has to do what he wishes or risk losing his support. There are periodic rebellions, but so far no one has actually broken away.”

Corrie’s gaze sought out Lucas. He’d propped his tall figure against a cherry armoire and frowned across the room at her.

“That doesn’t include Lucas.”

“Even Lucas.” Lydia’s eyes were bright with what might have been either interest or malice. “In theory Lucas runs Baxter’s companies, but in actual practice he can’t make a single decision without being second-guessed.”

Lucas didn’t impress her as a man who’d allow himself to be dictated to, but she didn’t really know him, did she? And if he had his way, she never would.

“And then there’s you.” Lydia’s smile held an edge.

“What about me?”

“Didn’t you realize, my dear? Baxter doesn’t care a snap if you’re his long-lost granddaughter or not. He’s sent you here as a threat, to show the others what might happen to all that lovely money if they don’t do what he says.”