Читать книгу Mr. Elliott Finds A Family - Susan Floyd - Страница 11

BETH ANN FINALLY looked back at Glenn, who waited patiently for her to answer, one ear cocked for any sounds of disturbance downstairs.

“I can’t imagine why Carrie’s husband is here,” she said slowly.

“Really?” Glenn’s speculative look made her turn her back to him, knowing he could read her like a book.

She shook her head and then guilt pulsated in her stomach. She didn’t want to lie to her dearest friend. She concentrated on rewashing her unused paintbrushes and then said, “He might have mentioned something about Bernie owning a software company, but that didn’t seem to be the reason he’s here. He damn near ran Iris down.”

“He said something about what?” Glenn asked, his voice incredulous.

“A software company,” Beth Ann whispered with a grimace.

“A software company?”

“Yeah, uh, one called DirectTech.”

Glenn was silent for so long that Beth Ann looked up. His handsome, dear face was extraordinarily pensive.

Eventually he said slowly, “That’s not good, is it?”

Beth Ann blinked back tears that had somehow filled her eyes. It was that damned headache. “It can’t be good.”

“Does he want Bernie?”

Beth Ann shrugged and then turned the water on full blast, scrubbing her wash brush. “He can’t have her. I’m going to tell him what he can do with his software company.”

“He didn’t seem particularly interested in her.”

“Do you think he knows?”

Glenn thought for a minute before saying, “I don’t think he does. And if he doesn’t, you probably should tell him.”

“Are you nuts?” Beth Ann whirled around, spraying Glenn with residual water. She promptly burst into tears, the thought of exposing Bernie to Christian sending terrible waves of dread down her back. What if he wanted her? She’d never be able to fight him in court. With his money, his clout, he’d cream her. Then another thought swept through her. What if he didn’t want Bernie? What if Bernie was no more important to him than she was to Carrie? Once the papers were signed, Bernie would be forever tied to the Elliotts, but only as some sort of awkward addendum.

Glenn swiftly crossed the room and enveloped her in a warm hug. Beth Ann buried her face in his chest, feeling as if Glenn’s comforting squeeze was the only thing keeping her from exploding into tiny pieces of emotional debris. Glenn was indeed a good friend.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to tell him, Bethy,” Glenn whispered. “He’s got to know. Tell him now while you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Beth Ann pulled away and sniffed loudly. “I have everything to lose. I could lose Bernie.”

“You might,” Glenn admitted frankly. “But, you’ll lose her anyway when he finds out. And he will find out. He’s on some kind of mission and I’m not even sure he knows exactly what it is. He doesn’t know who Bernie is, but I saw him stare at her. I’m sure he sees the resemblance to Carrie.”

“We’re sisters.”

“Half sisters. You two don’t even look alike. Carrie was the spitting image of her father.”

Beth Ann gave Glenn an annoyed stare. “I hate it when you play Jiminy Cricket.”

Glenn laughed. “That’s why I’m here.” He glanced at the work that appeared to be drying around the studio. Beth Ann bit her lip as she watched him examine the painting, not realizing she was holding her breath. Glenn was an enormously talented and highly productive muralist, who traveled the globe painting both interior and exterior walls. So talented and so sought after, he was booked several years in advance. Unless he developed some artist’s block, his next ten years would be filled with interesting projects, different places. But Beth Ann couldn’t be jealous of his success. He deserved it.

Glenn studied the backdrop of a grove of newly pruned almond trees. “I like that.”