Читать книгу The Family Diamond - Moyra Tarling - Страница 10

Maura couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt tight, and she wondered for a moment if she was having a heart attack. To learn that her father was a close friend of the Diamond family was a bonus she hadn’t expected.

Realizing everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to respond, she gathered her scattered thoughts and with a calmness she was far from feeling forced air into her lungs.

“I’m sorry. It’s Mitchell, not Michael, who I was thinking of. Mitchell Carson was an old friend of my mother’s,” she quickly improvised, hoping she didn’t sound too foolish. “I haven’t seen him in years.” She smiled. “Your neighbor was on a cruise, you say? That must be a wonderful way to spend a holiday.

“I’ve never been on a boat or a ship. Well, that’s not strictly true,” she hurried on nervously. “I have ridden in a motorboat, but a cruise ship…that’s totally different.” She paused briefly for breath.

“I read somewhere that the cruise ships they’re building these days are as tall as some skyscrapers,” she soldiered on. She knew she was babbling but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Have you and Elliot been on a cruise?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact we’ve been on several,” Nora Diamond replied.

“Oh…where did you cruise to?” Maura asked, relieved that she appeared to have succeeded in smoothing over those awkward moments.

Though she longed to find out more about their neighbor, Michael Carson, the man who was her father, she decided it would be best to steer clear of the subject, at least for now.

Nora turned to her husband. “Our first cruise was to Alaska, wasn’t it dear?”

For the next few minutes Maura heard about their cruise experiences, and though she listened attentively and asked questions, beneath her outward show of interest her thoughts were in turmoil.

To add to her agitation she was intensely aware of Spencer’s penetrating gaze. He’d risen from the table and was leaning against the counter giving the impression of a casual listener, but there was nothing casual in the way his blue gaze remained focused on her.

She had the distinct impression he hadn’t been taken in at all by her stumbling attempts to redirect the conversation, or her interest in cruising. And the frown that darkened his handsome features confirmed he was still puzzling over her reaction.

Maura brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn.

Her hostess was quick to notice. “Maura, my dear, you must be exhausted, and I’m chattering on about cruises.”

“I’m sorry,” Maura said. “I guess the bus ride made me more tired than I thought.”

“Spencer, show Maura to her room,” Nora continued. “You can relax for a while. Have a nap. Dinner is at seven.”

Maura rose from the chair. “Thanks for coffee.”

Spencer eased himself away from the counter. “If you’d like to come this way.”

Maura kept her smile in place and followed Spencer from the kitchen. He was silent as he led her up the oak stairs.

“The house is beautiful,” Maura commented. “Have you lived here all your life?”

“Yes,” Spencer said. “The Blue Diamond Ranch has been in our family for several generations.”

“Are all the neighboring properties horse ranches, too?” she asked.

“No,” he responded, but he didn’t elaborate on his answer as she’d hoped. The temptation to ask him about Walnut Grove was strong, but she kept silent. At the top of the stairs Spencer turned left. Halfway down the corridor he came to a halt.

“Your bedroom has its own bathroom,” he told her as he opened the door.

“Thank you.” Maura started to cross the threshold, but Spencer’s hand came out to stop her. “Do you know Michael Carson?” he asked abruptly.

Maura heard the hint of tension in his voice, and, careful to keep her expression neutral, she met his gaze.

“No, I’ve never had the pleasure,” she replied truthfully, ignoring the prickle of sensation darting up her arm caused, she knew, by his fingers resting on the sleeve of her jean jacket.

Spencer held her gaze for what seemed an eternity. He was searching her face for…what? She didn’t know. Her heart sounded like a drum-roll crescendo in her ears, and he was standing so close she was sure he must hear it.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said before turning and striding away.

Maura stepped inside the carpeted room and closed the door. She leaned against it for support and, taking several deep breaths, waited for her heart to slow to a more normal pace.

Her thoughts turned to her father and the fact that she might not have to wait too long to meet him. If Michael Carson was a close a friend of the Diamond family, it was possible he’d drop in for a neighborly visit.

Maura’s breath hitched and her pulse gathered speed at the prospect of meeting her father, the man she hadn’t known existed until a month ago.

She wasn’t surprised to learn that he’d been married. But the fact that he was now a widower simplified matters a little. Her trip to California had been impulsive, but she had no intention of creating any kind of problem for him.

Restless, she crossed to the stylish French doors leading onto a small balcony. Opening the doors she stepped outside.

The sun had already gone down, but a faint trail of pink tinged the darkening sky along with a smattering of stars. The air had cooled, and a breeze tugged at her hair. She sighed, welcoming the caress that helped calm the jittery excitement inside her.

Not for the first time she wished there had been a photograph of Michael Carson amongst her mother’s personal things, but other than the journal and the letter there had been nothing.

She would have to be patient. It was fortunate that he was returning from, rather than setting out on, his cruise.

Her mother’s death a year ago from cancer had left Maura without family—no brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins or grandparents. Though her mother had married Brian O’sullivan when Maura was three, they’d never had children of their own.

Maura had often wondered why her mother had married Brian, who, at her mother’s insistence, had legally adopted Maura. But her childhood dream of being part of a real family, of having a father who loved her unconditionally had been quickly crushed.

In Brian O’sullivan’s eyes she was another man’s child, and for the most part he ignored her. His bouts of drinking turned him into a mean and angry man, and Maura soon learned to stay out of his way.

The marriage lasted three years, dissolving after her mother finally tired of her stepfather’s constant drinking and verbal abuse. For Maura it was a relief to be rid of him, but his negative presence had only heightened her longing for her real father.

She’d tried asking her mother questions about him, only to be told the subject was off-limits. Though she’d known her mother had loved her, Maura always had the impression that having a child out of wedlock had been something of a burden for her. And Maura had been envious of friends who were lucky enough to have a loving, caring father.

Learning that her own father was alive and living in California had rocked her to the core, and she knew she would never rest until she’d met him face-to-face and asked him why he’d turned his back on her and her mother all those years ago.

She needed to know. She deserved to know.

Reentering the bedroom, she noticed the tasteful decor. A cream-colored carpet covered the floor, and the bedroom furniture, made from mahogany, consisted of a dressing table with matching nightstands and a beautifully carved headboard on the queen-size bed.

The bedspread reminded Maura of a field of wild-flowers, and the walls, painted a pale shade of apricot, gave the room a cool ambience.

Crossing to her suitcase she lifted it onto the bed and proceeded to unpack.

Spencer stood at the wet bar in the dining room and poured himself a generous serving of whisky. His parents were in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal.

Ten years ago his father had handed the business of running the ranch over to Spencer. Since then his father derived a great deal of pleasure from puttering around in the kitchen.

During the years he and his brother and sister had been growing up, his mother had hired a cook. And once they’d all left home for college or a career, his mother hadn’t had the heart to let Mrs. B. go. Mrs. B. had taught her new and apt pupil, Elliot Diamond, everything she knew, while his mother had happily encouraged her husband to take over in the kitchen.

Spencer smiled. After more than forty years of marriage his parents were still very much in love and truly enjoyed each other’s company. And when Spencer had married Lucy, he’d been sure that theirs would be the kind of marriage that would last.

He’d been wrong. His marriage had been nothing short of a disaster, souring his dreams and leaving him adrift on a sea of pain and bitterness.

A faint sound caught his attention, and he turned to see Maura standing in the doorway dressed in a cream blouse and rainbow-colored skirt that reached her ankles. Her coppery hair was tamed into a severe knot at the base of her elegant neck.

“Come in,” he invited, aware once more of a swift jab of attraction at the sight of her. “May I pour you a drink?” he asked, deciding he liked her much better with her hair flowing free, the way he’d seen her the first time they met. He was sorely tempted to walk over and remove the pins.

“Soda water would be nice, thank you,” she replied. She came toward him, stopping on the other side of the bar.

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in a glass of Chardonnay? Or a Riesling perhaps? California wineries produce some of the best wines in the world.”

She nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip, and instantly his stomach muscles clenched and an emotion, long dormant, stirred deep inside him.

“Thank you. I’d love to try a California Chardonnay.”

“Good choice,” he replied. Setting his glass on the bar, he opened the small fridge below the counter and brought out a bottle of wine.

With practiced ease he stripped off its foil cover and withdrew the cork with the aid of a big brass corkscrew clamped onto the bar.

“Now there’s a clever device,” Maura commented. She watched him pour the pale gold liquid into a wineglass.

“And very efficient,” he said, handing her the glass.

“Thank you.” Her fingers brushed his and at the fleeting contact, a shiver of sensation darted up her arm. She threw him a startled glance, and as their gazes collided, her heart lurched painfully and her breath froze in her throat.

“There you are, Maura,” Nora Diamond’s greeting shattered the tension-filled silence. It was with some relief Maura turned to her hostess. “Is your room comfortable?” Nora asked.

“It’s lovely, thank you,” Maura responded.

“Be sure and let me know if you need anything,” Nora said with a smile. “Is that Chardonnay you’re drinking?”

Maura nodded. “Your son kindly poured me a glass.”

“Spencer, dear. I’ll have one, too,” his mother said. “Oh…and, Maura, when it comes to mealtimes, they’re usually a casual affair. My husband told me to announce that dinner’s ready, so please take a seat anywhere at the table,” she went on. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and give Elliot a hand.”

Careful to avoid Spencer’s gaze, Maura crossed to the oak dining table. Setting down her glass she pulled out the nearest chair.

“How’s the wine?” Spencer asked coming up behind her. He held the chair for her, and as she sat down she could feel his warm breath fanning the back of her neck.

Awareness danced across her skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. It took every ounce of control to stop her hand from shaking as she reached for her wineglass.

She sipped the Chardonnay, more to steady her nerves than to taste, and as the silky coolness slide down her throat, the tension inside her slowly began to ease.

“Hmm.…it’s lovely. Refreshing, with a crisp fruity taste,” she said brightly.

“I’m impressed.” Spencer placed the glass his mother had ordered next to a place setting. “And here I thought folks from Kentucky only drank bourbon.”

“Oh…we do.” Maura heard the humor in his voice and fought to hide a grin. “And it’s the best bourbon in the world, as you know. But there are some of us who have actually been known to recognize a decent glass of wine when we taste one.”

Spencer emitted a low rumble of laughter. The sound sent a fresh flurry of sensation chasing down her spine.

Suddenly Elliot appeared carrying a steaming platter to the table. He flashed Maura a smile as he set down a dish of chicken breasts drowning in a creamy mushroom sauce.

Nora followed with two serving dishes, one containing steamed potatoes, the other a variety of vegetables.

Once they were seated and the food served, conversation drifted easily from one subject to another as they ate.

Spencer occupied the chair directly across from Maura, and she found it both annoying and disconcerting that each time their gazes met her heart skipped a beat.

“Did you say Michael is due home tomorrow?” The question came from Spencer, and Maura quickly shook off the feeling of fatigue slowly descending on her and, holding her breath, waited for a response.

“I believe he gets in sometime in the afternoon,” Nora reported.

“Where exactly was he cruising to?” Maura asked hoping to keep the subject of her father in the forefront.

“The Caribbean,” Elliot replied. “Though I don’t recall which ports of call he was visiting.”

“Does he travel a lot?” Maura asked, her tone light.

“Yes. He and his wife enjoyed taking trips,” Nora answered. “We went on several vacations with them when Ruth was alive. This is the first trip he’s taken since her death.”

“He must still miss his wife,” Maura said, cautiously careful not to sound too interested.

“Very much,” Elliot replied.

“I’m afraid Michael’s had more than his share of sorrow these past few years,” Nora added, darting a concerned glance at her son.

Puzzled, Maura looked across the table at Spencer.

“Michael also lost his daughter, Lucy, who happened to be my wife,” Spencer said. His tone was level, his voice carefully controlled.

Maura fought not to react, but inside she was reeling. From the brief conversation earlier she’d learned her father had been married, but somehow the knowledge that he’d had another daughter, that she’d had a half sister—and that her half sister had been married to Spencer—was something of a shock.

“Lucy was an only child.” Nora picked up the thread, effectively capturing Maura’s attention. “She and Spencer had only been married a year…” Nora came to a halt, glancing once more at her son before continuing. “Lucy died in a car accident two years ago. Ruth never really recovered from her daughter’s death.”

Maura drew a steadying breath and met Spencer’s gaze. His eyes were shuttered, his expression unreadable. It was obvious that the pain of losing his wife still lingered, and her heart went out to him.

“How tragic. I’m so sorry for your loss,” Maura said.

Spencer looked away, making no reply. He reached for his water glass.

“Lucy was a beautiful young woman,” Elliot commented, filling the silence and drawing Maura away from Spencer. “Being an only child she was spoiled and a little reckless.”

“Lucy’s death hit us all very hard,” Nora went on. She threw her son a compassionate glance. “Ruth simply never got over it, dying a year later of a broken heart.”

“Difficult as it’s been for Michael, we saw this trip as a sign he’s starting to come to terms with the tragedy and moving on with his life,” Elliot said.

As Maura listened to Nora and Elliot talk about their daughter-in-law, she was both puzzled and intrigued by Spencer’s silence. He appeared to have withdrawn to some private place.

Nora rose from the table, and started to gather up the dishes, bringing an end to the conversation.

“Let me help,” Maura said.

“You’ll do no such thing, at least not tonight,” Nora asserted good-naturedly. “Stay and chat with Spencer.”

Maura’s heart skipped a beat. She would have preferred to follow her hostess and talk more about Michael Carson.

“Coffee anyone?” Elliot asked, reappearing with carafe in hand.

“I’ll have coffee, Dad.” Spencer pushed back his chair and crossed to the bar.

“Yes, thank you,” Maura replied. “And the chicken was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

“Thank you,” Elliot responded as he began to pour coffee into cups.

“Maura? Can I interest you in a liqueur? There’s Brandy? Cointreau? Or how about Grand Marnier?” Spencer offered.

“No, thank you,” Maura replied. She stood up. “Actually I think I’ll pass on the coffee. It’s been a long day, I’m rather tired. I’ll just say good-night.”

“By all means, my dear,” Elliot said.

Maura dropped her napkin on the table and made her way from the room. She stopped for a moment in the doorway and glanced at Spencer, who was pouring himself a liqueur. She could see the tension in his shoulders and in the line of his jaw, almost as if he was gritting his teeth.

The conversation at dinner had obviously upset him more than he was willing to show. Ever since Lucy’s name had been mentioned, she’d noticed his withdrawal and noticed, too, that the atmosphere in the room had changed from lighthearted to melancholy.

Even now he appeared to be deep in thought, and Maura could only guess that the loss of his wife was still a raw and painful wound.

He must have loved Lucy very much. Turning, Maura headed for the stairs, feeling a stab of envy for Lucy, the sister she’d never known.

Maura lay awake for some time, thinking about Spencer’s wife, Lucy. The possibility of having a sibling had crossed her mind, but finding out she’d had a half sister who was now gone left her torn between feelings of joy and a deep regret that she would forever be denied the opportunity to know her.

She tried to imagine what it had been like for Lucy growing up with their father. From the little she’d gleaned from the conversation at dinner, Lucy’s parents had spoiled her.

Maura felt tears slowly trickle into her hair. It seemed so unfair. Being part of a family was all she’d ever wanted. Growing up without a father, she’d often been made to feel like an outsider.

And even now that she’d located him, there was no guarantee he’d welcome her with open arms or want to have anything to do with her. He’d had a daughter, a daughter he’d loved and lost.

Michael Carson had turned his back on Maura and her mother twenty-seven years ago. He could easily do it again.

It was with these thoughts swirling in her head that Maura finally drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, the room was in darkness and for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was.

Rolling onto her back, she stretched. A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table told her it was 4:55. She lay for several minutes enjoying the warmth and comfort of the queen-size bed.

Pushing the covers aside, she rose and went to the sliding doors. Outside on the balcony she inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar and much-loved scent of horses and hay and the outdoors.

The air was fresh and invigorating and not as chilly as it would have been had she been standing on her small front porch back in Bridlewood.

The sun was still abed but the faint glow to the east told her it would soon be making an appearance. Restless and suddenly eager to begin work with the horse she’d come to help, she decided to take a walk outside and locate the stables.

Slipping back into her room she indulged in a quick shower before dressing in her jeans and pale-blue cotton shirt. She braided her still-wet hair into one long ponytail. Out of habit Maura made up her bed and, with her riding boots in her hand, headed downstairs.

When she reached the kitchen, she came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Spencer scooping ground coffee into the automatic coffeemaker.

For a moment she was tempted to sneak away, but she wasn’t quick enough.

“Good morning. Coffee will be ready in a few minutes. Would you care to join me?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Maura replied politely, noting, as she came farther into the kitchen, the weary slant of his shoulders and the lines around his eyes.

“I hope you slept well,” said Spencer.

“Like a baby,” Maura replied as she crossed to the table, annoyed at the nervous flutter of her stomach. “What about you?”

“I didn’t sleep at all,” he replied, tiredness seeping into his voice. He glanced up and met her gaze head-on. “I had a few things on my mind.”

Maura felt her heart kick against her rib cage in alarm.

“Really,” she said cautiously, unsure just how she should respond. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do, is there?” she asked out of politeness.

Spencer switched on the coffeemaker and turned to give her his full attention.

“Actually, there is,” he said, his gaze hard and unyielding, sending a quiver of alarm racing through her. “Perhaps you can explain to me why, after turning down my invitation two months ago to come to California, you suddenly called to say you’d changed your mind?”