Читать книгу Her Cinderella Heart - Ruth Scofield - Страница 9

Peter Scott Tilford flew out of the Lee’s Summit airport in western Missouri at seven the next morning in his small private jet. The airport was a little small for a jet, but he’d managed. Seated beside him was his pilot, Jackson, a man who could keep his thoughts to himself and who never interfered with Peter’s plans.

He’d contact his office as soon as he crossed the Appalachians, Peter thought. He’d been out of touch with his staff for three days and they’d be half frantic. No one knew where he was except his personal assistant, Tony Swartz, who was sworn to secrecy.

That was the way he’d wanted it. This was a personal matter. Very personal. News coverage and gossip about his current activities was the last thing he needed splashed all over hungry tabloid press.

He felt jubilant. After all these years, he’d hit pay dirt. Now he had to make contact.

The plane climbed to cruising altitude and Peter settled back. He’d been fortunate about not being recognized. He’d keep it that way for as long as possible, but it would take some juggling. Someone would recognize him eventually.

Private, easy, unhurried time—that was what he needed. He didn’t want to scare Eric away. But in Peter’s world, privacy was a highly prized commodity. Could he get it?

He’d have to carve it out carefully, but he’d do it. Take time to talk with Eric, to know the man he was sure—this side of a DNA test—was his younger brother. He wanted to do that without any outside pressures. He wanted more than five or ten minutes to become acquainted with the only remaining living person that he knew was a blood relative.

Did Eric want to know him? Be friends? Re-kindle a family relationship?

Did Eric even remember he had a brother? And what were those memories?

That was the information Peter needed most.

Peter prided himself on his ability to size up a person within the first few minutes of meeting and talking with them. Many of his business decisions had been made within a very short time. He evaluated everyone involved in a project, not just the logistics. In fact, he’d earned a reputation for lightning decisions based on how he scrutinized his opponents and associates.

That was true until three days ago.

Then he’d talked to Pastor Michael Faraday. The minister had gently pointed out that in such an important matter of family, it might not be wise to make a snap judgment. Peter’s ultimate decision was too important, surely, to rely on only a few minutes of acquaintance between Eric and himself. They should have had a lifetime of understanding between them; brothers should know each other well. But they’d been cheated of that.

According to the pastor, Eric was a very private man, not given to making friends easily. He had to give Eric time. Go slowly, Pastor Mike had advised.

Peter had been a teenager the last time he saw Eric. When Eric was only four, his mother, Faye, took him and fled from her marriage, from Peter’s father, Randall, and everything he stood for, changing their identities along the way. He hadn’t really blamed Faye. His father had created his own chaos.

After his father died, Peter expected Eric to show up to stake a claim to his healthy inheritance, but he never had. Later, it wasn’t important to wonder too closely what had happened to his brother; if Eric wanted any part in Peter’s life, he would come forward. After all, Eric and Faye knew where to find him. He wasn’t hiding. But he hadn’t known where they could be found.

Then last year…

A familiar pain crept up like a fog. Last year Peter’s only son had died of leukemia. Danny. Filled with a sorrow unlike any he’d ever known, Peter fought the tears that threatened. He felt unmanned by them, but they persisted whenever thoughts of his son surfaced. When would the pain ease?

He still grieved deeply, and guessed he always would. He’d had great hopes for Danny. Great plans.

The times he’d spent with his son were now confined to precious memories. Danny wasn’t coming back and he had to face the fact that he had no family left.

No one at all, except for Eric.

Then after months of silent suffering, he’d come out of his personal fog and finally began to look for his brother. Now he’d found him. He was elated with his hopes for a new relationship.

Yet questions haunted him. What kind of man was Eric? Did Eric grieve for his mother, Faye, who was now also dead? What had they done with their lives? Where had they lived? He wanted to know everything.

Instinctively, he trusted Mike Faraday. He’d flown to western Missouri at the suggestion of his private investigator, and set up a meeting with Pastor Mike the same day. He’d made a good choice when he decided to confide in the pastor. A good choice, indeed. Pastor Mike was a rare man of intelligence and integrity.

And Pastor Mike knew Eric. Eric Tilford— Eric Landers now. Pastor Mike had told him that Eric was a very private sort of man, but that Eric sometimes came to New Beginnings.

Sometimes he came, but not always. That was the catch.

Meeting at New Beginnings would be a neutral, nonthreatening way of sizing up Eric. Then he would know. Know what kind of man he was.

At the very least, he owed Eric his inheritance. He wanted to make it right between them, even though their separation hadn’t been of Peter’s making. But, buried deeply, he realized he wanted a brother.

Peter let out a deep sigh and steered his emotions away from the danger of falling into a deep well. Instead he thought about his evening.

He’d waited in edgy anticipation for Eric to arrive—and swallowed his extreme disappointment when he didn’t show. Set on his course of action, he stayed long enough to seem an ordinary visitor, listening in silence to Pastor Mike’s message, and waited another few moment to talk with him.

He was getting old, he decided, to have developed such patience. Fifty-two. He shook his head, wondering where the years had gone.

He didn’t usually waste his time with the kind of organization he’d attended last night. Rather old-fashioned and plebeian. Religious, too, which didn’t really interest him. It served other people better, he thought.

But after a lifetime of dealing with the inner circles of high finance and worldwide trade, and gaining acclaim for his business savvy, it didn’t hurt him, he supposed, to see how “regular” people lived their lives.

Take that Lori. She was smartly dressed, mentally sharp, and she’d mentioned being an attorney. She’d fit in anywhere. She wasn’t so different from the men and women he knew. He even had a few women like her on staff at his law firm.

While some of the men he’d been introduced to seemed to have no interest beyond the latest fishing hole or when baseball season would start, a few, such as Pastor Mike, discussed world events along with tax problems and how to chase the moles out of one’s yard. To his surprise, he hadn’t been bored.

How did one chase moles out of one’s yard? He chuckled outright because he didn’t know.

“Did you say something, Mr. Tilford?”

“No, Jackson, just thinking,” he replied. “Say, did you ever have occasion to chase moles from your yard?”

“Moles? No, sir. I live in an apartment.”

“Never mind. Just an idle thought.”

“Yes, sir.”

He fell silent again, and his thoughts returned to the company he was in the night before.

There had been that moment of comedy—right out of a slapstick movie—when Cassie spilled the coffee. Usually, he had no patience with careless waitresses—but Cassie wasn’t a waitress. She was a guest at that meeting just as he was. He’d surprised himself when he felt no ire and recognized her act of kindness for what it was when she freshened his coffee.

She certainly hadn’t known who he was. The only person he had to be careful of was that ex-model, Samantha. She might recognize him.

He suspected Cassie was a quiet woman. Her brown skirt, beige blouse and sensible shoes certainly held no spark or style. Yet unlike Lori’s sophisticated flirtation, Cassie’s green eyes had returned his gaze with an undisguised interest that was as easy to read as the newspaper. Her gaze was guileless. Something he saw there flattered him, just a little.

He’d enjoyed the surprise on her face when he did his very bad Bogart imitation, something he hadn’t done since his college days. He’d even laughed at himself for doing it.

Surprisingly, he’d actually had fun for those few moments. There had been very little to tickle his amusement in the past few years. Certainly not since Danny had passed away.

Why now? Why something so simple?

Perhaps it had been too long since he’d seen genuine interest from a woman for simply being a man. No frills, no expectations, just a thread of plain attraction.

He switched his cell phone on, and two seconds later it rang. Automatically, he reached for it. His incognito jaunt had come to an end and his business agenda and calendar demanded his immediate attention. “Yes?”

“Peter! At last!” Tony’s frustration made his tone gruff. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”

“Don’t sweat it, Tony. I’ll be there in time for our lunch meeting with Carter and Jones….”

It came to him as a certainty. He’d be back to the eastern edge of Kansas City, Missouri, for sure. New Beginnings met each week and he’d arrange to be there often enough to meet Eric, and to discover if Eric wanted to know him. He’d rather enjoyed his time spent there. Being anonymous was a new experience. Why shouldn’t he have a little fun?

Just after noon, Cassie grabbed her blue canvas lunch bag and thankfully headed toward the teacher’s lounge. Fridays the kids were always fidgety in anticipation of the weekend, and today was no exception. The weekend promised to be beautiful. They’d been so restless today she felt like tearing out her hair.

Rico was the worst—he couldn’t sit still nor keep himself quiet for more than five minutes. He agitated the other children around him on purpose.

Cassie liked the boy, and thought he needed only a little more personal attention at home. But his mother had five others at home, a busy husband and no extra time to give Rico.

If Cassie had to call Rico’s mother one more time…

She’d have to pray and think about it, Cassie decided as she swung open the teacher’s lounge door and plopped her bag on the table. Maybe she could find another way to help Rico.

“Hey, Cassie,” Jacqueline, who taught sixth-graders, greeted from the cola machine. “Did you get that notice on the visiting Oregon Trail historian for next week?”

“Hi. Yeah, I have it.” Cassie grimaced at Jacqueline’s lunch plate from the cafeteria and dug into her bag for her tuna sandwich on whole wheat. “I thought I’d do some reading over the weekend to refresh my memory of trail lore. Couldn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“Not me,” Liz Dapple remarked, scooping cottage cheese into her full, perfectly shaped mouth. Her quick glance held a bit of the usual withering pity for anyone who took their job too seriously. “I don’t plan on wasting my time on anything related to kids, school, clocks or bells. I’m going to have a luxurious dinner and a cuddle with my honey, a shopping spree tomorrow, and then a long Sunday in the park.”

A cuddle with someone loved. Cassie could picture the romantic thought.

“My weekend won’t contain anyone who doesn’t stand taller than me, either,” Amanda Smith remarked with a grin. “I do have to clean house, though. And then Dwayne and I are going to a concert with friends.”

A concert with friends. That sounded fun….

“Wish I could say the same,” Donna chipped in with a sigh. “But it’s an animated feature film for us with our kids tonight, then after some major laundry tomorrow, my hubby and I are working in the yard.”

“By the time I leave here on Fridays I’ve had enough of smart-mouthed kids,” Jacqueline said. Still in her twenties, she’d just graduated from college, and had come to the school as a substitute. “I’m going to a friend’s party down in Westport and I’ll hopefully meet some cute guys.”

“My boy Derrick and I are heading to Branson just as soon as the final bell rings,” Farley, the band teacher, said. He brushed a hand over his balding head, tapping a rhythm on his forehead. “Do a little fishing on Table Rock Lake, then take in a music show, maybe.”

Dinners, concerts, parties. It was a repeat of the litany Cassie heard every weekend, every holiday and vacation. What Cassie wouldn’t give to have what Donna had—a husband and family of her own.

“Mmm…” Her sigh sounded more like a groan. Several pairs of eyes turned her way.

“Um, I—” She shoved a pickle chip into her mouth, and mumbled, “I’m going to a—a—”

She didn’t want to call it a Bible Study. This group already thought her an immense Goody Two-shoes, and except for Donna, who was a believer like herself, most of them didn’t understand her love of Godly things and her eager spiritual journey.

Goody Two-shoes. She was so tired of that tag. Besides, she couldn’t bear another pitying glance over her reports of another quiet weekend spent alone.

“A Friday night thing at a friend’s house, then maybe an outing on Sunday afternoon with…um, someone new in my life.”

Peter came to mind, with his silver hair and his eyes the color of a summer sky. They made her insides all shivery. Cassie stopped chewing while she drifted off.

Amanda gave her a curious stare. “Cassie?”

“Someone new?” Jacqueline asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

“Uh—you could say that.” Cassie let a smile form, then picked at the remainder of her sandwich.

“Do tell,” Amanda begged.

“Cassie has a boyfriend?” Jacqueline sounded just too incredulous. It set Cassie’s back up.

“Why is that so surprising?” she wanted to know, her sudden heated look defying Jacqueline to add another remark. Then she turned to answer Amanda. “It’s too soon. There’s nothing to tell.”

Then slanting a mysterious glance at Jacqueline, she let her mouth curve. “Yet….”

Now what was she doing? Implying something that wasn’t there. Lying, Dad would call it. But she had met a gorgeous man, and he had smiled an incredible smile at her. She had exchanged conversation with him. She did hope to see him again, didn’t she? It wasn’t a lie.

She ruthlessly pushed Peter out of her thoughts. She should do something about Rico, something practical, that’s what she should be thinking about.

She’d call Rico’s mother and ask to take Rico and his two older sisters to see the National Trails museum in Independence. From the last time she’d talked to Mrs. Sanchez, she thought the harried woman would welcome the suggestion. That should give them all an outing, and it sure would beat having to make another complaining call.

However, to set things straight…

“Then again,” she spoke up in a decisive tone, “I have a different interest in another direction, too. So perhaps Sunday will turn out…oh, you know.”

Rico couldn’t be counted on to remain quiet about the excursion if they went, but she’d chance it. His two sisters were already in middle school; they were unlikely to rat on her.

“Two guys? Cassie, you flirt!” Liz teased.

Heat climbed Cassie’s cheeks. “Not really two. The one isn’t really dating material. But I’m not sure if my first choice will be in town.”

“It’s about time you met someone new,” Donna kindly remarked as she got up from the table to throw trash away. “What’s he like?”

Much too good-looking for comfort.

“Who’s the dreamboat?” Jacqueline asked.

“Oh, just someone…” Cassie mumbled, then caught herself. She spotted Donna giving the young substitute a quelling stare, pity lying in the depths of Donna’s brown eyes. Oh, no! They were doing it again!

Cassie cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “As for Peter—” she boldly named him. She didn’t know if she’d ever really see him again, but at least he was real. “I honestly don’t know yet. We’re merely at the exploring stage.”

“Well, at least tell us—is he cute?” Liz asked.

“Mmm, is he ever! He has eyes that are so blue….”