Strangers She Knows

by Christina Dodd

  Max lifted his head and stared into Kellen’s face. “Close your eyes,” he said, and moved in again.

  The kiss became less a comedy and more… Just more. Slow and sweet. Then slow and hot. When Max lifted his head again, Kellen had to blink the faint sheen of tears from her eyes. Not that she was crying, just that the heat had been so intense her body had to act like a sprinkler system to cool her off.

  It hadn’t worked very well. She was still very, very warm.

  She stared into his eyes, his warm, beautiful brown eyes, and thought…nothing much at all. Except that as hard as he was breathing, he might come in for another pass. She would like that. She licked her bottom lip—

  Rae said, “That’s enough, please. I guess you are married pretty good.”

  Max and Kellen both flinched, a reaction to the interruption, and predictably Max found his focus first. Carefully he stood Kellen on her feet. In a mellow tone, he said, “Right, Rae. We are married pretty good. We, um, should go in and meet our cook, Olympia. She’s been here for two weeks, using the Conkles as a cleaning crew and preparing for our arrival. Let’s hope that she especially got the kitchen ready to go. Rae’s hungry.”

  “And you?”

  “So hungry.” As he slid his hands away from Kellen, it was clear he wasn’t talking about food.

  They walked together, not touching, the rest of the way toward the house, and when Kellen slid a glance toward him, he wore a smug, lopsided smile.

  She looked hastily away. If Rae wasn’t right there with them, she’d demand to know what he thought he was doing. What happened to his self-restraint? What happened to being all worried about the effects of unbridled passion on Kellen’s Brain? She had been frankly irked at his restraint, but now, after so long…

  The story in the military was that six months without sex made you a virgin again. Maybe true. She rubbed her palms on her jeans. Her hands were sweating.

  At the house, Dylan had unloaded the bags, then carried them inside.

  Kellen turned to Max. “What did you do with the, um, special bag?”

  It had been the middle of the night when they picked up the helicopter from Max’s cousin, Jason Di Luca. He stashed their luggage inside, helped Max get a half-asleep Rae on board, and indicated the long canvas bag behind the seats. In a low voice, he had told them, “Firearms. A bolt-action 30-06 and a Remington 308 with scope. A Ruger 9 mil semiautomatic and a couple of compact handguns. Probably overkill, but better prepared for anything than not.” He shook hands with them both, pressed a kiss on Rae’s forehead, and sent them on their way.

  The bag hadn’t come out with the rest of the luggage, and now Max said, “The bag’s in the helicopter. I don’t want Rae to see it and think…anything, so I’ll bring it in when no one’s around to ask questions.”

  “Where are you going to store them?”

  “Gerard Morgade seems like the kind of guy to be a big game hunter. I’ll bet a big, important guy like him had a gun safe.”

  “A gun safe would be good.”

  The housekeeper must have heard the helicopter, or Dylan warned her that they had arrived, for the front door slammed open and she stepped out onto the wide veranda.

  OLYMPIA PAOLERGIO:

  FEMALE, CAUCASIAN ANCESTRY (RUSSIAN? GERMANIC? SLAVIC?) LATE 40s, 5'5", 130LBS, BUILT STRONG AND TOUGH. COOL BROWN EYES, WELL-CUT HAIR, SUSPICIOUSLY AUBURN WITH HIGHLIGHTS, WELL-APPLIED COSMETICS, CRISP, IRONED CLOTHING, IMMACULATE, POLISHED NAILS. PROOF POSITIVE THAT ALL GOOD GROOMING IS NULL WHEN CANCELED BY THE APPEARANCE OF A FAINT, DARK MUSTACHE ACROSS THE UPPER LIP.

  “Welcome to Morgade Hall.” Olympia’s gaze swept the little group, and lingered on Luna. “I’m glad the dog managed to find someone to pet it. I was tired of her importuning me. Come in. The house is large and difficult to navigate. I’ll perform a tour.” She held the door for them.

  “Not necessary,” Max said. “I’ve been here before.”

  Olympia swept him a freezing glance, then began the tour anyway. “The house is a magnificent reimagining of a French chateau, with a wide, sweeping stairway that leads up to a gallery above. There old-world paintings line the walls. Carvings enliven the woodwork and antique furniture creates a classic environment.”

  Kellen followed Olympia and agreed with all her assessments, but she also noted that a closer look showed the wear of many years. The carpets were shabby, and rectangles of brighter paint gave testimony that long-vanished paintings had once hung on the walls.

  Olympia guided them briskly through the first floor. “The main ballroom is here.”

  “The main ballroom? How many are there?” Rae asked.

  “Several,” Olympia answered. “This is the largest. One imagines it alive with light and music.”

  Kellen was surprised to hear Olympia had an imagination. “Oh, look. There’s a piano. Goodie.”

  Rae giggled.

  Olympia was oblivious to their teasing. “The piano has been tuned. Follow me. The library is here. There’s a door onto the porch, a fireplace which you will seldom use, and I believe the chairs to be comfortable.”

  “Look at all the books!” Rae wandered in and stared in awe at the walls of shelves lined with leather-bound books, pieces of glowing art glass, framed paintings and photographs. “So many stories. It’s like in Beauty and the Beast.”

  “Very dusty to my mind.” Olympia sounded vaguely disapproving. “Those books shouldn’t be disturbed.”

  “Grandma says if a book isn’t read, it cries in its soul.” Rae sounded stiff and disapproving.

  “I don’t know what that means.” Olympia wheeled around and across the hall. She waited until the Di Lucas had joined her and threw open another door. “The dining room is here. I’ll be serving breakfast at seven—or if you wish, later.” Her glare indicated she would not approve of a different hour.

  “We can try seven for a while. See if that works.” Max sounded mild.

  Olympia’s outrage made Kellen hide her grin. No wonder Verona had expressed doubts about Olympia Paolergio. She was a gorgon.

  Olympia’s heels struck each step sharply as she led them upstairs. “I put the child in this bedroom, obviously designed for a Morgade daughter.” She opened the door close to the top of the stairs and gestured Rae in.

  Rae eyeballed Olympia as she walked in; she wasn’t used to being called “the child.” But once she entered, she forgot her chagrin in a breath of awe.

  The room was gloriously pink. The bed had floaty curtains and a canopy. All the furniture was painted white with flecks of gold. An oriental rug in subdued tones of blue and gold covered the oak floor. Although faded by time, this was the room for a princess. “This is…” Rae’s voice faded. She went to the bed and sat on the old-fashioned bedspread, then slowly reclined and stared up at the gauzy canopy.

  “Okay. That settles that. Where do we sleep?” Max clearly had no doubt Olympia had made the decision for them.

  “I put you in the master bedroom.” Olympia led them down the long corridor toward the double doors at the end, and flung them open. “It has an attached bathroom.”

  Kellen stepped in.

  Max followed.

  Kellen stopped cold.

  Max bumped into her.

  “Holy cow,” she said in awe and horror.

  The room was easily the size of the downstairs ballroom and featured the bed as a centerpiece. Placed on a raised platform, the four broad, polished oak posts reached toward the tent-shaped, robin’s-egg-blue ceiling where, dangling from the highest point, was a large—no, wait, extra-large—Moroccan metal lamp.

  Kellen cleared her throat. “This looks like a combination of Arabian Nights and primitive phallic art.”

  Max choked on a cough. Or was it a laugh? “So, dear, not this room?”

  Kellen cast him a disgusted look and turned to Olympia Paoler
gio. “Is there somewhere else we can rest our weary heads?”

  Olympia looked offended and astonished. “I was told to prepare the master bedroom.”

  “With one hundred rooms, there must be something less…suggestive.” Kellen started back down the corridor, throwing open doors.

  Olympia hurried ahead of her. “That’s not necessary, Mrs. Di Luca, I’ve been organizing the house ever since I arrived and I have several suggestions. If you’re sure you don’t want—” She gestured back at the master bedroom.

  “I am so sure.”

  “I can certainly see who wears the pants in this family.” Olympia huffed her way to a wide door next to the master bedroom. “This was Mrs. Morgade’s bedroom. It also has an attached bathroom. If you wish to seek further, I must tell you—most bedrooms do not.”

  The Morgades hadn’t slept together. How interesting. Kellen walked into a room decorated sparsely with chests and tables and a few well-chosen sculptures of Japanese origin. The queen-size bed hugged the interior wall and faced the windows where every morning they could watch the sun rise. “This will do.” Actually, Kellen quite liked it.

  “Yes, dear,” Max said meekly.

  “You can sleep in the master if you prefer.” Kellen looked daggers at him.

  “No, dear.”

  Kellen turned to Olympia. “Will you ask Dylan to bring our bags up here to our room?”

  Olympia huffed again. “When you’re ready, come to the dining room. I’ve prepared a snack.” She departed.

  Kellen turned on Max. “The pants in this family?”

  He laughed out loud.

  “Who says that? Who even thinks it?”

  He kept laughing, the crinkles around his eyes deepening, inviting her to laugh, too.

  So she did. “You didn’t help a bit!”

  He made a lunge for her, toppled her onto the bed, rolled on top of her, all warmth and weight and rocketing blood pressure. He looked down into her face. “Are you kidding? You should have seen your expression. It was priceless! And—”

  The door slammed back against the wall.

  They both jumped guiltily.

  Rae stood there, glaring as if the wrathful face of puberty had taken form. “I don’t know what you think is so funny.”

  Max turned to Kellen. “This is who wears the pants in the family.”

  He picked one hell of a time to be witty. Kellen ignored him and asked Rae, “What’s wrong? I thought you liked your room.”

  “It’s too far away!” She stalked in.

  “From us?” Kellen considered that. “I’ll bet we can round up a small lamp for your room and one to light the corridor so you can find us at night.”

  “Why would I want to find you at night?” Rae asked belligerently.

  “Sometimes you have nightmares,” Max said.

  “I’m too old for that now.” Rae had chosen to forget that after being torn from her home, and during the days of chaotic travel, she had twice crept into her parents’ bedroom, crawled in next to Kellen, and shivered until she forgot her dream and went back to sleep.

  Those nightmares were one reason Kellen had agreed to continue their silence about the threat that had sent them fleeing. They weighed the chances of Mara immediately tracking and attacking them against Rae’s psychological turmoil, and decided that, by all indications, they’d made a clean getaway and they could wait.

  At Max’s request, Kellen had hired a tracker, a friend from her Army days, and set her on Mara’s trail. According to Diana’s latest report, so far their plan was successful. Right now, Mara was far, far away and with Diana’s help, would soon be apprehended.

  That would make Kellen happy. Because she was a coward. She didn’t want to explain the truth of the situation to her newly sharp-tongued daughter. Max really wanted Rae to remain an innocent child as long as she could, while Rae would not appreciate the deception.

  Whoever said parenting was easy had never been a parent. She looked at Max. Especially when the parents had differing opinions.

  Now Kellen backtracked and used a different angle to speak to Rae’s anxiety. “Still, I like the idea. Sometimes I like to come and check on you.”

  Rae mulled that over. “That’s all right, I guess.”

  Luna ran in, a big, strong dog with her nose to the floor. She stopped and smiled at Kellen—she held no grudge about the piano music—then dropped her nose again and sniffed around the room, following a trail only she could discern.

  Rae flung herself onto a low-slung chair. “No phone. No apps. No online. What are we going to do here?”

  “Tomorrow we’re going to explore the island,” Kellen said.

  “The whole island? Really, Mother?”

  Rae used that snotty tone that made Kellen think she was about to go off like a Roman candle. Putting her arm around Rae’s shoulders, she said, “Olympia has a snack for us in the dining room.”

  At the word snack, Luna alerted and sat up.

  Rae didn’t budge.

  Kellen got her up with a little gentle pressure. “Not the whole island. Not in one day. But don’t forget, your dad ordered new bikes for us.”

  “See? I’m a good guy,” Max said.

  “A guy without pants,” Kellen answered.

  “Pantless Max,” he agreed, and came around to Rae’s other side. He helped Kellen maneuver her out of the bedroom and down the hallway. “Tomorrow, we can take a picnic lunch and find out what we’ve got here. I can’t wait to explore the beach. It’s going to be different here than in Washington.”

  “This is all cliffs. We can’t jump off the cliffs.” Rae was displeased and unwilling to have her mood changed.

  “It’s not all cliffs. You saw that.” Max may have sounded exasperated. “There are all kinds of beaches, and while it’s quite a climb, about a half mile from here there’s a stairway down and we can sit in the warm sand, wade in the cold Pacific—”

  “Until our legs turn blue.” Rae had been to Northern California before.

  Luna trotted beside them, all lolling tongue and smiling teeth.

  “We’ll throw a stick in the waves and listen to Luna bark until it comes back. She’s going to love it so much!” Even before Kellen finished speaking, it was obvious she had hit the right note.

  Rae put her hand on her dog’s head. “Okay. We can do that.”

  8

  Which meant, of course, an unexpected storm blew in with a midnight clap of thunder and after an hour of pouring rain the weather settled into a constant drizzle that lasted through morning wake-up and into breakfast in the massive dining room.

  As the promised bike ride and picnic disappeared, the expression on Rae’s face made last night’s thunder and lightning seem like kittens and flowers.

  Max cleared his throat, but before he could say anything about entertaining them, Kellen said, “Rae, let’s investigate the house.”

  Rae’s face began to turn tantrum red.

  “It’s like a Gothic mansion, big and old and—”

  Rae took a deep breath.

  Inspired by panic, Kellen added, “—has an attic!”

  Rae paused in midbreath. Slowly she let it out.

  “Imagine,” Kellen coaxed. “Old trunks with funny clothes and hats.”

  “We can dress up.” The Castle in the Attic was one of Rae’s favorite books.

  “Yep!” Kellen passed her the plate of toast, the butter and the shaker. “Cinnamon sugar?”

  Rae piranhaed her way through two slices of cinnamon toast, two soft-boiled eggs, two pieces of bacon, a plain piece of toast, watermelon, blueberries and half a peach, and when she finished, she leaped to her feet, cheery and impatient. “Are you ready to go?” she asked her mother.

  “Almost. I thought we’d pack a snack.”

  “I’ll find a picnic bla
nket.” Rae ran out of the room.

  “Never let her get hungry,” Max murmured.

  “What do you suppose she’s going to use for a picnic blanket?” Kellen asked.

  Olympia stepped into the doorway. “What’s Rae want with an antique linen tablecloth?”

  “Oh,” Max and Kellen said in unison.

  While Olympia created a lunch basket for Kellen and Rae to carry with them, Kellen exchanged the linen tablecloth for an old khaki-colored wool Army blanket and Rae took Luna outside to use the facilities. While she was gone, Max said, “I found the gun safe in Gerard Morgade’s study, with the key in the lock. I’ll bring the weapons inside and stow them. Mara might be far away, but I don’t trust her to stay there.”

  “Always prepare for the worst,” Kellen said. “I learned that in the Army.”

  “I learned it in the wine business.”

  They grinned at each other.

  Rae and Luna came back through the door at a run. “Come on, Mom!”

  Kellen, Rae and Luna looked for the stairs to the attic.

  It proved a greater challenge than either of them expected. A Gothic mansion? More like a Gothic maze: long corridors of windows and paintings, stairs that got progressively narrower as they went up and, now and then, large ballrooms and small bathrooms. They kept getting lost and having to turn back, and one time they went around in circles along a dim corridor lit only by windows along the top of the wall. Doors opened only into murky closets stacked with linens and cleaning supplies. The floorboards creaked as they walked, and Kellen experienced a terrifying sense of claustrophobia. When Rae finally spotted the narrow doorway that had led them into this loop, and they at last returned to a more traveled part of the house, Kellen had to stop and breathe slowly and deeply. She couldn’t speak; her throat was constricted and her chest tight.

  Rae waited patiently, looking more than a little unsettled herself. “It feels like Hogwarts,” she said. “The stairways and doors change when you’re not looking.”

  Kellen nodded, and when she could speak, she said, “If you don’t have a nightmare about that, I will!”

  “That’s okay, Mommy.” Rae put her hand in Kellen’s and smiled up at her. “You can come to my bed and sleep.”