"So tell me about how you came to start a career in real estate," Brandon suggested.
Caroline complied, forgetting where she was, that others might be eavesdropping on her conversation. Her enthusiasm for her own business was strong and she loved talking about it. Had their baby lived, she knew she'd have been a doting mother. With no child to pour her attention on, business had become her passion.
"Why don't you sell Talmadge Hall? Not list it with another agent," he asked.
"I'm not licensed in Louisiana. Plus, I don't want to hang around long enough for it to sell. I have my life in Dallas."
There were no warm feelings associated with the old house. She wanted to be rid of it and to forget she'd ever lived there.
Brandon looked at his plate. Most of his lunch was finished. He had mixed emotions when she talked about leaving as soon as the house was listed. She was anxious to get back to Dallas.
He remembered when she'd been anxious for him to get home. He remembered her loving arms greeting him each night and her passionate kisses each morning, which almost compelled him to stay home with her all day and forget work.
And he remembered how happy she'd been when she'd discovered she was pregnant.
He'd wanted to give her the moon.
"Tell me about your condo," he said, pushing away the old memories. It was enough today to spend a few more hours with her. Tonight he'd end the idyllic visit, give her the papers to sign and return to New Orleans in the morning.
"It's a few blocks from where I work. If I don't need my car during the day, I usually walk to work. But if I'm showing property, of course I drive."
It was mid afternoon by the time they returned to Talmadge Hall.
"Want something to drink?" she asked when they entered the cool foyer.
"Iced tea sounds good. How about you?"
"Yes. I know Rosalie keeps a pitcher in the refrigerator. I'll be right back."
Brandon went into the large living room. He wandered around the spacious room studying the paintings, the knickknacks that Eugenia'd scattered around—a porcelain figure on a side table, a glass globe with a flower forever suspended inside on the bookshelves against the far wall. Limoge porcelain boxes, a Faberge egg. A framed picture of Caroline with her sisters. That was unexpected. He picked it up, remembering the day it was taken. Both Michelle and Abby had come to New Orleans right after school that June. They'd all gone to the French Quarter, acting like tourists, pigging out with beignets at the Café du Monde, wandering through the Quarter, listening to jazz. He'd snapped the shot with Abby's camera.
They all looked so happy.
And so young.
Replacing it gently, he realized that was another aspect of Caroline forever lost.
Today the hint of sadness in her eyes, the pensive moods she sometimes fell into, were all changes the years and circumstances had wrought. She no longer looked young and carefree.
"Here's the tea," Caroline said, coming into the room and handing Brandon a tall glass.
I noticed the answering machine blinking when I passed the office, I'm going to listen to the messages."
Brandon followed her to the office, noting the blinking light.
"Hey Caroline, I haven't heard from you in a while, kiddo. Your cell went to voice mail, too. Call me."
Another beep, then a strong masculine voice, came on,
"Caroline? Dennis here. Where are you? I've tried calling your cell, but no response from there. Trying here now. I am happy to offer my services if you need any help with the estate. Do give me a call."
Another beep, then silence.
"Who is Dennis?" Brandon asked.
Caroline looked at him in some surprise. "A friend."
He stepped closer and unfolded his arms.
"Was that Susan Carmody?" he asked.
She nodded. "Though she's married now and it's Susan Andrews. But yes. I'm surprised you remembered her."
"You and she were friends since first grade, why wouldn't I remember that?"
"You only met her once. We weren't married long enough for us to spend much time with any of my friends."
"Who is Dennis?" he asked again. "How good a friend?" A hard edge colored his voice.
She shook her head, and looked him in the eye. "Not that it's any of your business, Dennis is just a friend. Nothing more."
"It's my business until you sign those divorce papers," he said, reaching out to cradle her head in his large hands. "Until then, you're still my wife." Lowering his face he started to kiss her, but Caroline pulled away.
"Stop, Brandon. What we had is over. I can have whomever I wish to have as a friend. Did you think I lived in a vacuum since you've been gone?"
"Who left who, sweetheart?" he asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
She took a breath and nodded her head. "Okay, so maybe technically I left you. And with grandmother's interference we never got back together. But I wrote you. About six weeks later I did write. It was just before I went to see Jodi. In fact, not hearing back solidified my plans to visit her."
She sighed and bit her lower lip. "I take it the letter never reached you?"
He shook his head. "Why didn't you just come to New Orleans?" he asked.
"Because I hadn't heard anything from you and I thought you didn't care. I did call the apartment. No answer. When I called a few weeks later, the phone had been disconnected.”
He nodded. “A few weeks after you left, I got a cell phone and canceled the land line. I'd given up hope of hearing from you by then.”
She nodded, thinking suddenly that if they'd both had cell phones five years ago calls couldn't have been intercepted.
“By then I couldn't stay at the Hall any longer. She was driving me crazy. Michelle had found a job in New Orleans and Abby graduated from high school and seemed set on nursing. I wanted some plan in my life, some goal or purpose. The plans we made were in ashes. So I thought if we talked—I don't know, maybe I could get a clue about what I needed to do with the rest of my life."
"I never knew," he said.
"I guessed as much the other day. At the time she said it was further proof that you really had no use for me and I should cut my losses. She sounded sympathetic. Now of course I know it for the lie it was."
"So I'm here now. We're face-to-face. Maybe it's time to talk things out. See what we want to do from this point forward."
"I thought you wanted to end things once and for all."
"I need to change the status quo, Caroline. Either end the marriage or resume it."
She stared at him. He'd voiced what she'd been thinking about for days. Was it possible for them to resume it?
Why the sudden change of heart?
"Resume it? Didn't we just agree to a divorce!"
"It's been at the back of my mind since we made love. I think we should at least discuss it."
"I have my business in Dallas, you live in New Orleans where your company is. I don't see how we can make that work."
"I didn't say it'll be easy, necessarily. But it's an option to consider. Or we can continue with the divorce proceedings."
He said it as if both choice held the same appeal.
Which would he prefer? she wondered.
"I don't know."
Did she wish to change things? They couldn't go back. Did she wish to open herself up to the uncertainty of living with Brandon again? Of trying to make a strong marriage on the ashes of their first attempt?
"Come down and visit this weekend and see how you like it. It's been a while since you were there," he suggested.
"Five years. I've never been back."
"Come for the weekend. At the very least you can give me some pointers on my apartment. It doesn't give me a welcoming vibe like our place did. I think you could change that."
Caroline was tempted. What'd one weekend hurt? Especially if it led to a reconciliation?
No, not a reconciliation—not in the truest sense of the word. Just a resumption of
their marriage.
No, not quite that, either.
Maybe seeing Brandon in his own space, seeing how he lived now would help. Was it wishful thinking, or was there a possibility—no matter how slight—that things might work?
"I can't come this weekend. I have the appraisers coming again and a real estate agent. I don't want to put them off."
"Next weekend, then."
Feeling a curl of anticipation, Caroline slowly nodded. "Okay, next weekend."
"Come on Friday."
"If I do, I expect you to be there when I'm there, Brandon. Not working late, no dashing off for a quick minute on Saturday that turns into an all day event."
Slowly he smiled, his eyes warming as he gazed down into hers. Caroline felt her heart turn somersaults.
No other man had ever captivated her as Brandon. Nor had any enticed her beyond a friendly meal or a visit to the local movie theater. Brandon had outright spoiled her for other men. His smile had the power to melt her bones, his touch wreaked havoc with her senses and his voice could charm the birds from the trees.
"If we are even beginning to explore resuming our marriage, I don't think you should be seeing anyone else," he said.
"I'm not seeing anyone," she replied taking another sip of her iced tea.
He glanced at the answering machine.
She signed in exasperation. "Dennis was a friend of my grandmother's. He's in his late fifties. I hardly think you need to feel any competition with him," she said dryly.
Brandon drained the glass and handed it to her.
"I have to be heading out. I want to be back in the office this afternoon before it closes. See you a week from Friday."
He was almost to the front door before she could speak.
"Wait! What do you mean? You're leaving now?"
She followed him, watching in disbelief .
"I have work to do." His hand on the doorknob, he looked at her. "If you can get there by lunchtime, let me know. We'll have lunch together. Otherwise, I'll plan on dinner next Friday."
"I don't know where you live or work," she said, trying to prolong his stay. His leaving caught her totally unaware.
Reaching into his inside pocket he withdrew a card and handed it to her, careful to keep his fingers from touching her.
Caroline looked at it and then Brandon.
What was going on? He'd invited her to visit and once she said yes, he couldn't get away fast enough?
What about his suggestion they consider trying again?
"I'll see you a week from Friday."
He left before she could say another word.
"Blast it!"
The man was the most confusing person she knew. And the most infuriating. She'd thought he'd spend the week. Stupid of her to assume that. He'd never said how long he planned to stay.
That showed her that figuring out things was far from a sure thing.
The next morning Caroline dressed conservatively for her meeting with the attorney. She hadn't told Brandon about the appointment. Of course she had other things to think about. Mostly how she felt about him and if being with him a few hours here and there were enough to consider his suggestion of giving their marriage another try.
She'd have liked something a bit more romantic, something to give her an indication of how he felt about things—especially as it hadn't been that long since they'd agreed to a divorce.
She'd lost so much more than a baby and husband five years ago. She'd lost the ability to believe in happy-ever-after, to believe love lasted.
She paused on her way out of the old mansion to glare at Eugenia's portrait over the mantel in the living room. She knew now that Brandon hadn't been the irresponsible, uninterested, self-serving man Eugenia made him out to be. He'd tried to contact her, but Eugenia had interfered.
Just as she'd done twenty years earlier.
More than ever Caroline wanted to find out the truth about her father. Something to give her the closure she needed. Just to know he'd not willingly walked away from his wife and daughters would make a world of difference to her.
Time enough later to dwell on that. Right now she had to hurry or risk being late.
An hour and a half later Caroline stepped outside the lawyer's office into the sunlight, shocked. Being late would have been the least of her problems, she thought as she checked her watch.
She began walking slowly back to her car, feeling totally confused. There was almost too much to comprehend, she thought dazed. Too much to calmly return home and act as if her entire world hadn't been turned upside down yet again.
She tossed the thick envelope with the copies of the papers the attorney had reviewed onto the front seat. She needed to tell Michelle and Abby. They were both counting on money from the estate.
How would they react when she told them there was nothing but debts?
She needed to see them in person; this was not something she wanted to share over the phone.
They could meet when she went to New Orleans. She'd call and tell them she was coming and arrange a convenient time for them to get together.
Leaning her head against her seat back, she closed her eyes. Tired beyond belief, she wished fervently for an end to it all. The revelations kept coming and coming and she wasn't sure she was up to dealing with them. Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath. She'd have to be.
She wasn't looking forward to telling her sisters there was no money. Just thinking about explaining how Eugenia had incurred monumental debts just to keep that monstrous house of hers going infuriated her.
She sure didn't want Brandon finding out either. Not yet anyway.
Would he see her tentative exploration of getting back together a way to insure she had money? She'd wished now she'd told him about the attorney's visit. Actually, she really wished he'd come with her.
She refused to let him think she was a gold digger.
Instead of thinking about getting back together, she now wondered if her best course would be go through with the divorce.
What was she going to do?
Chapter Eight
The week dragged by for Caroline. After meeting with the appraisers and the realtor and continuing to read through the papers her grandmother had left, Caroline was more than ready for a break.
Instead, she had more papers to read through in an attempt to find incontrovertible proof her grandmother had been instrumental in driving their father away. She wondered how much more she needed. After learning how Eugenia had sabotaged her own marriage, Caroline had no doubts about her parents' breakup.
Still she was burning with curiosity.
She wondered if she could locate Edith. The woman obviously knew what happened.
Caroline didn't remember anyone named Edith visiting her grandmother through the years. Had their friendship lasted beyond that scathing letter?
When Brandon called on Wednesday evening, she was surprised how happy she was to hear his voice.
"We're still on for Friday, right?"
"Yes. I'm looking forward to it. I'm so tired of all the decisions I have to make with regard to the estate. The appraiser recommended different vendors to sell everything. Calling and arranging for each of them to come by to see if they would in fact like to take the furniture or art took a couple of days to set up. Then I've had people traipsing through the house at all hours. I can't wait to get away."
"We'll do only fun things when you're here."
"I do need to see my sisters," she said. She still had that ahead of her.
"How are you doing getting through your grandmother's papers?" he asked.
"I've read everything up to seven years ago. It's going fast now. I doubt there'll be any mention of it after all this time. I did find an envelope with my mother's death certificate and each of our birth certificates."
"Did you know when your mother died?"
"Yes. We've always known that from visiting her grave. It was funny to see the birth certificates, though. Sam Williams is our
father's name, you know. But we've always used Talmadge," she said slowly.
"How did that happen?"
"Apparently Mama took it back after he left. I don't even remember being called Williams, but then I was so little when it all happened. I haven't found anything to show that the names were legally changed—my name and Michelle's and Abby's. Do you suppose that makes our marriage illegal?"
"No, it doesn't." His tone was sharp, forceful.
"It might be a moot point, I guess."
"Because?"
"If we decide to divorce."
"We'll talk about that on the weekend. What time are you coming?"
"I'll try to be there for lunch."
"I'll arrange to be free."
"Okay. And I really need to meet my sisters for lunch on Saturday. It's the only time Abby had available. So, if you have something to do then—"
She hated to bring up the lunch, but after making such a point of wanting him to spend time with her exclusively, she needed to let him know she couldn't reciprocate.
"I'm not invited, eh?"
How could she tactfully explain? She wouldn't invite him even if she didn't have bad news to share. She didn't want to give rise to any speculation from her sisters before she and Brandon's plans were final—whichever way they went.
"It's a girls' lunch."
"Save dinner for me, then."
"I will."
She hung up, still unsure of her feelings. Impatient to see him again, reluctant to be drawn closer, she wasn't sure what she expected or wanted. Only, she was sure she'd go through with the visit.
She had to know what the future might hold.
By Friday, Caroline was a nervous wreck. She'd packed and unpacked four times, trying to choose just the right clothes. She wanted to show Brandon how far she'd come from the young college girl who'd rebelled against her formal, regal grandmother. Her casual clothes now carried the look of distinction. No more jeans with the knees torn. Instead she had slacks and shirts that fit her slender frame and displayed her womanly attributes. Discreet jewelry. For dinner, she'd chosen a silk dress in dark blue. With a plunging neckline and close-fitting bodice, it also made her feel very sexy.
She shook her head. She was not trying to seduce him. She and Brandon needed to sit down and have a frank discussion about what they each wanted, what they each expected if they tried again. The fact she was even thinking about it still astonished her.
Letters to Caroline (The Talmadge Sisters Book 1) Page 11
