"I'm glad I finally got to meet you, Mr. Hasegawa. We'll talk again before I leave."
"Can I get you anything, Mr. Hasegawa?" asked Amelia.
"Nothing. But you could send my grandson over, if he's not busy."
Amelia's eyes raked the room. She didn't see Riley anywhere. Or Cole. "I'll find him." She turned to Julie. "I guess that's the family, except for Cary, and I have no idea where he is. Oops, I see him. Stay right here and I'll send him over. I have to find Riley."
Julie looked at the man who had just entered the room, and she was aware of two things instantly. First, Cary Assante was one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. Second, in all the years her uncle and Billie had spoken of Amelia and Cary, they'd never once mentioned the couple's huge age difference.
"I've heard a lot about you, Julie. I'm Cary, Amelia's husband."
None of the men she'd ever known or heard about would have tacked that little phrase onto an introduction, Julie thought. She smiled at him.
"I love this family," he went on. "The day I married Amelia, they adopted me. It was the happiest day of my life. I truly believe I'd lay down my life for any one of them."
Julie wondered if marrying Amelia or the family's adopting him was the happiest day of his life. Probably both, she decided. Cary Assante was obviously a happy man. But he must be twenty years younger than Amelia! "I'm so glad I finally got to meet all of you. I've heard about this family for years. It was like getting the next episode on your favorite soap opera. I've been following your progress with Miranda. It's magnificent. You must be very proud."
Cary's voice was suddenly shy. "I didn't do it alone. The Colemans and Mr. Hasegawa backed me. Amelia was with me every step of the way. I created it, but they made it happen."
"The way I heard it, you were a hands-on builder all the way."
"I did do some of the work. Most of it, though, was on the drawing board."
"Whatever will you do for an encore, Mr. Assante?"
"I don't think I could ever top Miranda, and I don't think I want to. All I want now is to spend some time with my wife. Perhaps take a vacation. Or maybe I'll help Amelia with what
{25}
she's working on, housing for the elderly. Did she tell you about it?"
"No, she didn't, but Billie did. I think it's wonderful of her to give so unselfishly of her time. Sooner or later we're all going to be old, and I, for one, would like to know that I'll have a clean bed and a roof over my head. Not to mention my dignity. What she's doing is so very important."
Cary blinked. He'd never heard such a passionate defense. "I am proud of Amelia. She has one hundred percent of my support." What a strange young woman this was. He looked at her closely in the filtered afternoon light. Very attractive, but then, Amelia had said she was, and Amelia would know. Soft. Warm. Gentle. Nothing hard and brittle about this lady. Good eyes and one of the nicest smiles he'd ever seen. He wondered why Thad and Billie had never brought her here before. She seemed to fit into the family like a hand into a glove. He was glad. Amelia would probably invite her from now on.
"A lot of people don't like to talk about the aged," Julie was saying. "I guess we all tend to think we'll never get old —or else we think, let someone else do it. But we should all do our share. I'm going to tell Amelia if she needs any help, I'd be glad to offer my services."
"Did I hear my name mentioned?"
"This young woman offered her services to you."
"Julie, did you really? I can use all the help I can get. I've recruited Billie and Maggie and Sawyer. I'm working on a mail campaign to the state legislators. Can you type and stuff envelopes?"
"I work nine to five. My time after that is yours."
"What about your social life?" Amelia asked.
"I'm afraid there isn't one," Julie said ruefully. "Even if there were, I'd still find a way to help."
"Bless you, child. When you get back to Vermont you'll have a package of materials waiting for you. This is pretty much a one-shot deal, so don't feel you're locked into this for a long period of time. I want these letters to reach the legislators before the New Year. Maybe they'll think twice over the holidays about us old people."
Cary's noticeable flush made Julie uncomfortably aware that she was intruding on a personal issue, but Amelia's arm was still around her shoulder and Cary's eyes were locked with her own. She couldn't extricate herself without embarrassing all of them.
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"Old! Surely you can't be referring to yourself, Amelia," Julie exclaimed. "Billie has always said you have more vim and vigor than anyone she's ever met."
"I used to, but time does take its toll. Now I'm on a downswing, but I don't seem to mind. My work with the aged is very fulfilling."
"I think it's time for me to go upstairs and get ready for this evening," said Julie lightly, relieved to note Cary's blush had subsided. "I've been promising myself a long, leisurely soak. I went straight to Miranda from the airport."
"Did anyone give you a room? Come along, I'll show you where you'll be staying for the next couple of days. If there's one thing Sunbridge has, it's plenty of room. On second thought—Cary, you take Julie up and I'll save myself the stair climbing. The room next to the nursery has its own bath. I think you'll be comfortable there." Her voice was gay, her eyes merry as she kissed Julie on the cheek.
Julie trailed behind Cary as he led her up the wide center-hall staircase. She should be saying something to keep the conversation going, but she felt at a loss. Cary's shoulders appeared stiff and his jaw was tight. Undercurrents of some kind were bothering him. Whatever it was, it wasn't her business. She opted for silence until they reached her room.
"Thanks. And congratulations again. You've made quite a statement with Miranda."
Cary leaned against the door frame. "Right now it's like Christmas night after all the food is eaten and the presents opened. Kind of a letdown, if you know what I mean. I feel like I should be planning something or at least have some idea of what I'm going to do next, but I don't have the slightest idea."
"I always felt that way about Christmas myself. The anticipation is better than the actual event. But then you go on to the next day and hope something will come along to get that anticipation working again. I'm sure a plan will surface before you know it, and you'll be in it with both feet."
Cary laughed, a charming, manly sound that delighted Julie. "You, dear lady, are a boost to my ego. I know something will come along, especially if I give a little push. I'm not one to sit around and rest on my laurels. I have a lot of years ahead—" He stopped, a stricken look on his face. "Ah, if you need anything, just ask. I guess I'll see you later this evening. Amelia and I are going on ahead, but the rest of the
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family is going together." As if she didn't already know all of this. He gave Julie an airy wave and closed the door softly behind him.
Julie looked around at the spacious but rather Spartan bedroom. She couldn't make up her mind if she was elated or disappointed. For years she'd heard her Uncle Thad and Billie speak of Sunbridge. Her uncle's voice had always sounded so enthusiastic, and Billie's had always sounded. . . sad. Of course, that could all be explained away, she decided. Moss Coleman, Billie's first husband and heir to Sunbridge, had been her Uncle Thad's best friend all during the war and up until the day he died. She didn't think she'd have liked the former heir to Sunbridge. The bits and pieces she'd heard over the years convinced her that Moss Coleman hadn't been the gentle, loving, caring man her Uncle Thad was. As far as she was concerned, the man hadn't been born yet who could come close to her uncle.
If it hadn't been for Uncle Thad, she wouldn't have gone to college, she wouldn't have her job, and she wouldn't be standing here in Sunbridge. She'd been seventeen and in her last year of high school when her family's house burned to the ground. It was a wonderful old house with mullioned windows and a glorious staircase with a perfect shining banister to slide down in the mornings. It had an attic full of s
ecret hidey-holes for little girls to play in, and trunks and boxes, each full of surprises for a rainy day. There were little nooks and crannies all over the house, perfect places for hiding treasures from one's parents. The kitchen with its braided rugs and floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing for all the light in the world, had been her favorite place to drink lemonade and munch on fat sugar cookies sprinkled with cinnamon. She had a dog named Jasper who followed her wherever she went and slept in the crook of her arm. When she was twelve, a nasty old wood-chuck bit off Jasper's tail; he died from an infection three weeks later. Dog after dog was paraded in front of Julie, but all she would do was shake her head. There were certain things in life that could never be replaced, and Jasper was one of them.
A magnificent elm tree stood outside her bedroom window, hundreds of years old with perfect branches for sneaking out to meet boys. Going down was always easy; shinnying back up yielded more scraped knees than she cared to remember. The tree had burned along with the house, and to this day she
{28}
didn't know which she grieved for more, the tree or the house.
She'd had her best years, her fondest memories, in that old house. Once in a while she suffered frightful attacks of guilt because she'd shinnied down the elm the night of the fire; she was a mile away while her parents were trapped in their bedroom by the thick, black smoke.
After the funeral she drew into herself and managed to escape reality and herself for a whole year. It was her Uncle Thad who brought her back to the land of the living with his patience and kindness. He helped her select a college, settled her in, explained to the dean about his career as a naval officer and stressed that he could always be reached for the important events like Parent's Day, Homecoming, and graduation. He hadn't failed her once.
Thad had helped her land her first job as a graphic designer for a mail-order catalog. She'd worked there for seven years, and when there were no more challenges and no more pay raises, she left and found a job that paid more money and was chock-full of challenges, one of which was a man who made her heart skip a beat. But when the relationship didn't progress, and she pressed for a commitment, he'd told her he was already committed—to a wife and two babies. She became wary after that, not trusting men. There had been other relationships, but for some reason they never lasted more than a few months. Normally cheerful by nature, she refused to allow the lack of a man in her life to depress her. She loved Vermont and the invigorating outdoor life. She worked long, hard hours, and filled the void in her life with activities and work. She was reasonably happy and felt she was well adjusted, but she was coming to that time in her life when she wanted a change more than a challenge.
Of all the Colemans, Julie decided she liked Billie the best. Next to Billie she liked Amelia. The boys, Riley and Cole, and Maggie and Sawyer were great, too, so normal, just like the people in Vermont. She'd expected glamour, pretentiousness, perhaps even a certain amount of phoniness. People with money, the rich and powerful, according to magazines and the media, were shallow and artificial. The Colemans weren't like that, though; they were warm and kind, welcoming her with affection. Sunbridge itself was old, worn, and inviting, shabby yet genteel. She decided she loved it. She felt a prick of envy that she hadn't been here to grow up next door or down the road. There was no comparison between Vermont
{29}
maple syrup and Texas oil, she thought with a grin. Simple little Julie Kingsley, daughter of Thad's oldest brother, Simon, here at last in what she'd always thought of as fairy-tale land.
For a minute she wished she were younger, prettier, shapelier. But then, if she were all those things, she wouldn't be Julie Kingsley.
There was enough change going on in her life now. The first of the year would find her in New York City with a new job and, with any luck at all, a new social life. Anything had to be better than Vermont. She considered the move a chal : lenge and she was looking forward to it.
She felt alive and vibrant as she twirled about the room. For a little while she could be part of this wonderful place called Sunbridge. For now she was one of them.
How good it felt. How right it felt.
Enough daydreaming. She unpacked her overnight bag, hanging her evening dress carefully on a scented hanger in a cedar-lined closet.
The exquisite-smelling bath salts in the crystal decanter made Julie gasp. The little decorative container, along with the bath salts, probably cost more than she earned in a week as a graphic artist. She slid down into the fragrant wetness. A bath, she sighed, had to be the most relaxing thing on earth.
The thick, thirsty towels were bordered and monogrammed in satin. She knew she could get used to this kind of living with very little effort. Now that she was so relaxed, a catnap might be in order.
Julie's last conscious thought before she shifted her mind to nothingness was that Amelia Coleman Assante was one lucky woman.
Cole stood with his hands on his hips, staring through the kitchen window at his cousin. "Christ, he's going to freeze out there!" he muttered. He was in tune with Riley these days. Their feelings for each other had changed and deepened when they went their separate ways to different colleges. Their hostility and competitiveness had given way to good-natured camaraderie, and while they didn't live in each other's shadow, they were there for one another when the going got tough. Right now, for Riley, it couldn't get any tougher, Cole thought. Should he go outside and offer his ear? Hell, Riley knew all he had to do was look at him in a certain way and
{30}
he'd drop whatever he was doing and give him the benefit of his own twenty-eight-year-old wisdom.
Riley turned, feeling Cole's gaze. Cole offered a crooked grin through the glass.
"You got an icicle hanging off your nose," he joked when Riley finally got inside.
"Wouldn't surprise me. It's as cold as a witch's tit out there. Where is everyone?"
"In the living room trying to decide if they should have another drink or a nap to rest up for tonight. Aunt Amelia sent me to find you—your grandfather wants to talk to you."
"I know. I'm trying to get myself together first."
Cole slapped his cousin playfully on the back. "Why? Since when do you have to?" The strained look on Riley's face finally registered. "Jesus, you didn't know he was sick?"
"I didn't think it was this serious. Sawyer said he wasn't feeling well. That's all she said."
"Haven't you talked to him, written?"
"No," Riley said curtly.
"I know this is none of my business, but don't you think—"
"Do you want the truth? I think I've known for months. I'm sure you know what it all means."
"For now, what it means is your grandfather is ill and wants to talk to you. You can't avoid it, Riley. His illness isn't going to go away. He will, though. How will you handle that? I don't think you have to make any earthshaking decisions in the next few hours. They're all waiting in there to see what you do. No matter what your decision, this family is one hundred percent behind you."
"I've been thinking about something lately." Riley waved his hands about to show that what he was going to say was vague at best. "The thought came to me one night, from out of nowhere. You should have been me and I should have been you. You'd love operating Rising Sun. I'd hate it. I love what I do here and... you hate it. You never actually said you hate ... What I mean is ... ah, forget it. This is what happens when you box yourself into a corner and can't get out."
Cole digested Riley's words. The thought of operating the Rising Sun publishing empire was so awesome, so mind-blowing, so... He shuddered.
"Can I help... ?"
"No one can help me," Riley said miserably.
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"I think you're wrong. I think your grandfather will understand if you talk it out with him. He might not like your decision, but he'll understand and respect it."
"My mother must be anguishing in her grave. I was taught from the time I was ... It's expected. ... I'm th
e only male grandchild; it was all my grandfather used to talk about. My mother would have expected it of me. I knew this day was going to come and I didn't prepare for it."
"What you thought, Riley, was that your grandfather would die peacefully in his sleep. You thought he wouldn't be around when it was time to make the decision. Saying no to the old man could be the toughest thing in the world to do. If you can admit that, we have something to work with. Well, am I right?"
"About as right as can be. Cole, I haven't been around, haven't seen death or sickness. My father died before I was born. My mother died quickly; there was no illness. She was at my side and then she was gone. I'm going to have to live with this every waking minute of my life until..."
Cole glanced at his watch. "We've been out here too long. Come on, let's go talk to him together. I'll stick with you and babble up a storm. That way you can postpone the moment till later, when you're alone."
Only Maggie noticed the strain on their faces as Cole and Riley burst through the swinging door. The Coleman men. The only Coleman men. Her eyes shifted to Shadaharu Hase-gawa and then to her mother. Conversation picked up and she could hear Sawyer's tinkling laugh as she tried to describe her miniature house in Japan. She turned to her husband. "Cole's there for him. That's all I needed to see. What do you say, Mr. Nelson, let's you and I take a long, I mean really long, warm —as in very warm—shower together?"
"You're leering at me, Maggie."
"Ah, a man with a keen eye. What's your feeling on silk sheets?"
"The same as yours. You mean there's silk sheets upstairs?"
"Only because I brought them with me, and that delicious soap you like . . . and the scented coconut oil."
"Show me the way home, honey."
"We don't want to be obvious, now, do we?"
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"God forbid. Should I take the back stairs and you take the front?"
"Sounds good to me." Maggie giggled.
"Darling, we don't see enough of you anymore," Billie complained to Sawyer.
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