Ridge rose to greet his sister, but when he moved to give her a perfunctory hug, she held out her hand to stop him. Her eyes were red as though she’d been crying.
He folded his arms across his chest. “You okay, Willow?”
“What do you care?” she shot back. Her voice trembled and she bit her lip.
He pointed to the seat. “Want to sit down and talk about it?”
She shook her head, then dropped into the chair anyway. “I haven’t been able to sleep or work since Dad died.”
Since Dad died, or since she knew he hadn’t split his estate? Ridge didn’t voice the question twisting his insides. He didn’t like being so cynical about his sister, and he wished they could be close. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt warmth from her. Wasn’t family supposed to mean something—to be a safe harbor from the storms of life? It often felt like his mother and sister were the storms, blowing in and wrecking any harmony he’d found.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She looked at him with watery eyes. “Are you going to do the right thing?”
“What is the right thing, Willow? To follow our father’s wishes he spelled out very clearly, or to throw it all aside? What would you do if Mom did the same thing? What if her will leaves everything to you? Will you follow her wishes or ignore them?”
Her face darkened to a dull maroon, and Ridge suspected Willow already knew their mother had named only her in the will. Mom had told him she’d made a will in Willow’s favor because she was a woman and alone. He had shrugged and let it go. He’d rather have had Mom’s love, but since he never felt anything approaching motherly affection from her, part of her estate was no substitute.
He could make his own way. If he could have his dad back right now, he’d take that in a heartbeat over the wealth. It meant nothing.
“I’d share it with you,” she muttered.
“I don’t believe you. Are wills meant to be ignored? Everything belonged to Dad, and it was his right to leave it however he wanted.” He could feel Harper’s gaze boring into him, and he softened his tone. “Why does it mean so much to you? You’re a doctor, so you don’t really need the money, do you?”
She laced her fingers together, then released them and plucked at a napkin without making eye contact. “I’d rather talk about this in private.”
Harper rose. “I’m going to the restroom.”
She stepped away before Ridge could grab her wrist. Maybe it was best this way. Willow probably wouldn’t talk in front of Harper, and something was clearly wrong. “Well? Why is the money such a big deal?”
She sighed and fingered a lock of her blonde hair. “I was stupid, okay? I was dating this stockbroker, and he claimed he could double my investments. I had about three million, and I turned it over to him.”
“Oh, Willow.”
Her lips flattened. “I know. I know. Oldest scam in the book. But he looked the part—he drove a Porsche, had a huge house in Miami and another one in New York. I believed him. The worst thing is that I thought I was in love with him.”
“Your money is gone?”
“Every cent.” Her voice wobbled. “And he’s gone too. He isn’t answering his phone, and I put a private investigator on his tail. He flew to Belize, and I don’t think he’s coming back.”
He absorbed the story. This was very unlike Willow, which probably added to her distress at her naïveté. She prided herself on her brain and good sense. She’d abandoned all of it for this guy. “Did you tell Mom?”
She caught his gaze in a steady stare. “What do you think?”
“You were ashamed to tell her.”
She looked down at her hands that were still pleating the napkin. “She’d think I had no sense. And in truth I didn’t show much. And even if I told her, she wouldn’t bail me out. You know how she always says we have to learn from our mistakes.”
He’d heard that adage many times over the years. “What do you think happened to Dad?”
Her head jerked up. “What do you mean?”
“Did the police come to talk to you and Mom?”
“Yes. They suspected we might have had something to do with it, but that’s ridiculous. You don’t believe we’d do anything like that, do you?”
He shook his head. “I wondered for about a minute after you were both so adamant about turning off life support, but I don’t think you’d actually murder anyone.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.” She shifted and rose to her feet. “I’d better go. I saw your truck and decided to stop. It was stupid. You don’t owe me anything. Mom’s right—we do need to learn from our mistakes. This is one I won’t make again.”
He stood and faced her. “Lucky for us there’s such a thing as grace.”
She stopped and blinked up at him. “Wh-What?”
“I’ll transfer the money tomorrow. It’s the right thing to do.”
She threw her arms around him, and he hugged her back. Maybe grace really did beget grace.
* * *
Annabelle pushed her wet hair out of her face, then looked down at the hospital gown. A stone-faced woman with gray hair had taken her into a bathroom with a lock on the outside. She’d been told to bathe. At first she’d thought to refuse, but the thought of a shower enticed her into obeying. What could it hurt to be clean to face what was coming?
She’d planned to put her old clothes back on, but the moment she’d stepped naked into the shower, the door had opened and the woman had taken her clothing and left this gown behind. Slippers, too, the kind hospitals used.
She tried the door and found it unlocked. Pausing outside the door, she listened and absorbed the atmosphere. Somewhere in the distance music played. It sounded like a radio station. Was that the smell of pizza or some other Italian dish?
In her slippers she moved to the top of the staircase and stared down into a large room that held only folding tables and chairs. The carpeting seemed new, and she could see the front of a fireplace.
This was a house, not a commercial building. From her bedroom window she could tell it was the middle of nowhere, so screaming wouldn’t get her anywhere. She hung poised over the first step. Should she try to slip out the front door? She eased down a step, then another until she stood on the last step before she put a toe into the downstairs. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she exhaled in a series of short gasps. Someone was bound to come out and find her any moment.
She looked to her left. The door enticed her to step that way. It had a dead bolt, which would be sure to make some kind of sound, but maybe the radio would drown out the slight click. What was she—some kind of coward? She had to try to escape.
She stepped off the final tread and rushed for the door. The dead bolt felt stiff and unwieldy under her fingers, but it finally clicked open. She tried the knob, but it still wouldn’t open. She released the lock and the knob twisted easily under her hand. The door let in the fresh breeze of freedom, and she slipped through the opening and onto a front porch.
Someone grabbed her by the wrist as she started to pull the door shut behind her. The door jerked out of her hand, and the same woman who had escorted her to the bathroom stood in the opening. Her hazel eyes blazed with anger, and she pressed her lips in a tight line.
Annabelle tried to pull free, but the woman was muscular and determined. She jerked Annabelle back into the house and slammed the door shut without letting go of her.
Annabelle twisted and yanked, but the woman was like an immovable rock. “Let go of me!”
“I thought I locked that door.” The woman’s gaze swept over her and down to her feet. “No harm done, I guess. You didn’t make it far. Back upstairs.” She shoved Annabelle toward the steps.
Annabelle dug her feet into the carpet. “Look, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this.”
The woman planted her other hand between Annabelle’s shoulder blades and shoved her toward the staircase. “Shut up and move.”
Annabelle stumbled w
hen the woman shoved her again, and she fell onto her already sore knees. The woman jerked her up, but as she stepped to one side, Annabelle wrenched her arm free, then darted around her and ran in the direction of the music. She reached the kitchen and ran on through to a hallway where she found another door. She flung it open and stepped into a garage. Maybe she could find a weapon here.
She shut the door as the woman rushed toward her, then grabbed a shovel off a rack by the door and wedged it under the handle. The garage was dark so she flipped on the light switch and looked around for a weapon. More tools hung on another wall: another shovel, an ax, hammers, a crowbar, and a shop broom.
The door rattled behind her, and she ran to the rack of tools and removed the other shovel. She swung around to face the door, but the woman wasn’t shaking it anymore. The silence felt ominous, and Annabelle swallowed down her fear. Where was she?
She held the shovel on her shoulder, ready to swing it into the woman’s head, but the silence stretched on. Where was she? A sound brought her around to face the garage door. It was rising. Annabelle darted toward the opener by the door into the house and hit the button. The movement stopped. She hit it again and it started back down as a face peered under it.
The woman was outside, so Annabelle removed the shovel from the door to the house. She tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. She looked around for another way out. There was another door into the backyard. She ran to it, unlocked it, then stepped outside into the morning sunshine.
“Stop right there.” The woman came through a gate into the yard.
Annabelle registered the black gun pointing her way and stopped. “Look, I haven’t done anything to you. Let me go. I’m supposed to start chemo today.”
The woman’s flat hazel eyes widened, and the gun wavered a bit. “Chemo?”
“Yes, I have lymphoma. I need treatment.” Maybe the woman had a bit of pity in her heart.
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Inside.”
Or maybe she was heartless.
28
April 1970
The squeak of the nurse’s shoes in the maternity ward faded as Judy stared at her baby’s perfect bow-shaped mouth. She cuddled the baby closer and caught the sweet scent of Annabelle’s skin. This was true love of the best kind. Little Annabelle had her father’s blue eyes below a fluff of blonde hair. A wave of inexpressible love constricted Judy’s heart. Until she’d seen her daughter’s face, she hadn’t realized how much she would love her little one.
Wrapped in pink flowered flannel, the baby’s little face was perfect in every way. He’d have to love his daughter too—he wouldn’t be able to help it. Huey had promised in his letters to hurry home as soon as he could. He’d said he would break his engagement and marry her. Judy was so lost in a pleasant daydream of the three of them in a beautiful waterfront home that she didn’t hear her door swing shut.
She blinked and looked up at the woman standing in the dim light at the foot of her bed. It wasn’t a nurse, but someone dressed in a slim-fitting knee-length dress and pumps. Judy squinted, then pulled the string to turn on the light. The baby mewled at the brightness and closed her eyes. Judy shifted Annabelle to shade her face, then stared at the woman. She struggled to sit up as recognition flooded her.
The woman stepped closer into the light. “So you’re the trollop who thinks she can steal my fiancé. He’ll never marry you, you know. My father would ruin him.”
Judy lifted her chin. “He loves me.”
But maybe the woman’s family was powerful enough to make good on the threat. Her hands shook a little as she adjusted the blanket around little Annabelle. Judy didn’t want any harm to come to him because of loving her.
The woman gave an elegant sniff. “You’re deluded. I’ll admit he’s infatuated with you, but he wouldn’t dare cross my family. Or his either, for that matter. His father would disown him, and he wouldn’t be able to support you and your brat anyway.”
Judy sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She wasn’t about to put down Annabelle while this she-wolf was in the room, and Judy wanted to be in a position to defend them if this woman made a move in their direction.
Her rival was even more beautiful in person, and her elegance reminded Judy of Jackie Kennedy. Her thick dark hair was lustrous, and she had a thin patrician nose. The handbag she carried looked like an Oscar de la Renta. She was used to the best of everything, and she probably got everything she asked for.
Though the woman’s social standing was far above Judy’s, they were just two women who loved the same man. Judy almost felt sorry for her as she saw through the woman’s stiff carriage to the fear that had driven her.
She stared at the woman. “If you’re so sure of that, why are you here?”
The woman pressed her lips together. “I’m here to offer you a deal. Take your child and go far away from here. I’ll give you a check for a hundred thousand dollars, which is enough for you to live nicely for a very long time.”
Judy bit back the gasp gathering in her lungs. “You must really fear he’ll leave you.”
“Let’s call this a little insurance. I’m sure you’re only after him because of who he is. Men are so easily lured by a pretty face.”
“I love him.”
“You don’t even know him. You met him for what—two minutes? This was really all my fault. If I hadn’t blown him off to shop for wedding dresses with my friends, he never would have met you. He showed up unexpectedly and thought I should change my plans. That picnic you ate was planned for me, you know. He’d bought all my favorite foods and wanted to show me his new boat.” She wrinkled her nose. “I couldn’t disappoint my friends after we had an appointment to look at dresses. It would have been rude.”
Judy heard the way she was trying to convince herself she’d made the right call, but it still stung that he’d lied to her that day over a year ago on the boat. Even so, this woman had made a mistake to choose her friends over her fiancé. “I don’t want your money.”
The woman scowled and stepped closer. “I’ll ruin you. I’ll make sure the newspaper carries this story. People will point and sneer when they see you.”
“And you’ll be pitied. I’m sure you won’t like that.” Judy saw her flinch as the barb hit home. She was feeling more and more confident. “He told you he wanted to break the engagement, didn’t he?”
“He’s a man after all—he doesn’t know what he wants. But I know what you want, and it’s more money. Okay, fine. I’ll up the offer to one hundred and fifty thousand.” She fumbled through the leather purse in her hand and withdrew a checkbook. “I’ll write it out right now.”
“I don’t want your money. Not even a million dollars would make me agree to leave him.”
The woman gaped as she stared at Judy, then dropped her checkbook back into her purse. “You’ll be sorry.” She wheeled on her heels and stalked out the door. It creaked closed behind her on its spring.
The baby made a squeak and sucked on her tiny fist. Judy pulled her close and fed her while she mulled over what had just happened. Wait until Huey heard what his fiancée had offered. He’d surely realize she loved him for himself and not for his money. And who could resist this beautiful baby?
The future looked bright now that she knew she’d won.
* * *
Annabelle was still missing though there’d been a massive police search for her all day. Harper sat on the upper deck of her houseboat under the stars and prayed for her sister. Where was she? What had happened to her, and was it her fault like Scott implied? She stared out over the water and inhaled the salty tang of the sea. A fish splashed somewhere nearby.
Ridge came up the ladder with two bottles of water in his hands and a bag of potato chips under his arm. He dropped into a chair beside her and gave her one of the bottles. “You look pensive. You worrying about Annabelle?”
“What if Scott is right and this is my fault? Maybe I brought the danger to her door when I showed up. I
was attacked first, though I still can’t see what Annabelle has to do with my mollusk farm.”
He uncapped his bottle and took a swig. “I can’t see any connection either.”
“All my life I’ve longed for connection, for family. What if my obsession to find my roots has brought this trouble to Annabelle?” Her hand settled on her belly. And it was also risking the life of her unborn child.
He leaned forward. “One thing you have to remember is that even if there is some connection, you didn’t cause it. The kidnapper chose whatever path he’s taken. Don’t get all guilt-ridden on me, or we’ll never figure this out.”
“I know you’re right.” She pulled her laptop over and launched her email program, then scanned the dozen or so messages. “Looks like the pen shell meat was a hit for the restaurant. They’ve increased their order for the next harvest.”
She shut the computer lid and set it back on the floor. “Um, how did your talk go with your sister?” They’d both been quiet on the way back to the boat, and she hadn’t wanted to break the silence.
His dark eyes warmed as he held her gaze. “Good, thanks to you. She’d gotten taken in by a shyster who stole all her money. I’m going to give her what she needs.”
A rush of heat ran up her neck. “Really? I’m so glad you sorted it out.”
“We seem to have called a truce.”
“And your mother?”
He shrugged. “Nothing different there, and I don’t expect our relationship to change. She is who she is. But maybe Willow and I can start over. She let her mask down for the first time in years. Maybe ever. That guy really did a number on her. Sometimes our biggest heartaches bring the most blessings.”
She nodded. There had been plenty of heartache in her life over the years. Losing her mother at such an early age had scarred her. No matter how hard she looked, she’d never been able to replace what she’d never had. Here she was nearly thirty, and she was still alone. Where was the blessing in that?
Ridge ripped open the bag of potato chips. “What’s going through your head?”
Strands of Truth Page 17
