Freedom, no responsibilities. He supposed a life like that was possible, but it would make him a pretty worthless individual. He wished he had just a little of Riley's blind loyalty to the family, his dedication. He put on a good show, so good that even old Sawyer hadn't picked up on his unhappiness, until just recently.
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He'd been brought up on goals and dreams. Hope, too. For what? Maybe what he wanted, what he missed, was the challenge of the outside world. Making it on his own, without the family behind him. That fall-on-your-face, pick-yourself-up-and-dust-off kind of thing.
A sheet of gusty rain slapped against the window. Cole jumped at the sound. He promised himself he would do something about his future, as soon as things in the oil business settled down.
Coleman Aviation was awash in fluorescent lighting. Cole was glad to be inside, away from the dreary, rain-soaked day. Away from the unwanted thoughts that attacked him at Sun-bridge like a thief in the dead of night.
His office welcomed him. He'd decorated it himself, choosing restful earth tones and soft leather. Everything in the office was comfortable and useful. The Chagall paintings always had a cheering effect. The tasteful green plants reassured him by surviving in canned air and artificial light. He alone had the responsibility for watering, trimming, and spritzing them. The onyx ashtray, a gift, held paper clips and rubber bands to discourage smokers. When he was forced to halt a would-be smoker, he smiled and said the smoke killed the plants.
For a long time he hadn't felt like a responsible contributor in the scheme of things at Coleman Aviation. When it came right down to it, it was Sawyer who breathed fire and life into Coleman Aviation; he merely fanned the flame. He did what was required, and he did it well, but Sawyer deserved the credit.
He'd known for some time that this wasn't where he wanted to spend the rest of his life. In his own way he was as tormented as Riley. Riley at least knew what he wanted. He, on the other hand, was playing the old family game. His mother's gift of half of Sunbridge had locked him in, just as Riley was locked in. Riley's eyes had glowed like Christmas lights when his mother handed him a copy of the deed to Sunbridge. Riley should have been given the whole package. He and Sawyer could easily manage all of Coleman Enterprises.
When the oil business righted itself, he was going to have to make some real hard decisions. Always, when he thought like this, his grandmother Billie's words surfaced: "Don't ever
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make the mistake your grandfather made. Don't make this family and this business your life." She'd understand when it was time to make decisions. Not now, while Riley was in hot water and needed his support. He'd see him through, and by summer or early autumn he'd be ready to make a move.
He never felt better than when his thoughts took this direction. A defecting Coleman. He'd read something once that was written by a Dutchman. "If you can't whistle on your way to work, then you don't belong in that job." Hell, he'd never whistled, not from day one. Riley had, though.
Time, and patience, would win out.
He shook his head to clear away his thoughts. Sawyer. His half sister. He owed a lot to her and to his mother. Give credit where credit's due. He smiled ruefully. Two great women in his life. A guy couldn't go wrong with those two in his corner. And if he did, he'd have no one to blame but himself. Straight-arrow Tanner.
His intention to call Japan resurfaced. He'd have to place the call himself since his secretary didn't arrive till eight-thirty. This was the time of day he liked best. He felt fresh and alert. He needed those qualities when he spoke to Sawyer, just to hold up his end. He wondered if she knew Adam Jarvis was back at the ranch with his stepson.
A pity Sawyer and Adam never got together. After Sawyer's operation and long recovery, they'd just drifted apart. Adam had needs, and Sawyer couldn't or wouldn't fulfill them. Eventually he'd married a classy, sassy California girl with a young son. As far as he knew, they'd been happy until the day she'd been caught in the cross fire of a crazed gunman in a shopping mall. They'd all rallied round for Adam until he was on his feet, taking the responsibility for his stepson. Cole couldn't help wondering what kind of father Adam was. Damn good, he was sure. Adam was first-rate.
It was early evening in Japan. Sawyer would be finishing her day as he started his. He could see her propped up on her lemon-colored sofa with a wine spritzer. He was disappointed when her phone continued to ring. He wondered why the answering machine didn't switch on. Concern furrowed his brow. Sawyer didn't exactly sit home at night, that much he knew, but she always went home to shower and relax before an evening out. He replaced the phone, a thoughtful look on his face. The sudden urge to speak with his mother made him
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punch out a series of numbers that would connect him with lunchtime in Hawaii. At least there would be servants to answer the phone, a human voice telling him his mother or Rand was available and to hold on, or to tell him his message would be relayed and the call returned. He waited, his sense of unease increasing.
The phone was picked up on the fifth ring. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson were on their way to Japan. They would call on their arrival. Would he care to leave a message? Cole's stomach tightened into a knot. He left his name.
Cole walked over to the tropical fish tank. He dusted some powdered shrimp across the top of the water. The fish ignored it and continued to swim in and around the colorful rocks and greenery. The knot in his stomach remained tight. He went back to his desk and opened the appointment book. Something was going on.
The polished brass plate said the occupant of flat 2-B was Chesney M. Brighton. The M wasn't real; it had been added, not on a whim, but rather as a necessity to reinforce Chesney Brighton's identity. The fact that the initial wasn't recorded on her birth registry made it that much more real because she had given the initial to herself. The M stood for Madeline, a name she liked.
Inside flat 2-B, Chesney stood at her bedroom window, watching the gray English dawn. In the soft early light she thought she could see the promise of a beautiful day as the faint pink streaks struggled to announce the sun. Chesney knew she was capable of putting sunshine into her life on this day even if Mother Nature decided to cast clouds over the golden orb. Inwardly or outwardly, today was going to be one of the sunniest days of her life.
Today was the day she was going to visit Sawyer Coleman, the head of Coleman Aviation, halfway around the world. The same Sawyer Coleman who, according to her hard-won information, was involved in a relationship with Lord Randolph Nelson—her father. She was going to ask Sawyer Coleman the whereabouts of Rand Nelson so she could tell... tell him what?
That I'm his illegitimate daughter. That I've been searching for years for him. It should be the other way around, she
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thought. He should be searching for me, but since he doesn't know I'm alive, how can he search for me?
She was going to change all that now. She would announce who she was, ask for an introduction to her father, produce the documentation she had concerning her birth, and then she would walk away.
Her announcement was going to be a bloody shock, one she hoped her father was up to, but if he wasn't up to it, it was his problem, not hers.
Chesney rolled her name off her lips. Chesney Brighton, Chesney M. Brighton, Chesney Nelson, Chesney Brighton Nelson. If her parents had kept her, she wondered what middle name they would have given her. Lillian? Mary? Not Mary, that was too plain. Mary Catherine? Dorothy? Amelia? Amelia was the name of Rand Nelson's stepmother, she'd learned, and one of the powerful Colemans of Texas as well as Sawyer Coleman's aunt.
Yes, she thought, if her father had known about her, he would have christened her Chesney Amelia Nelson.
Chesney's gaze shifted from the creeping dawn to her bedside table and a picture of herself and her friend Sara. It was the only photograph in the entire flat worthy of framing and prominence. It was a somber, solemn picture, but to Chesney it represented who she was then and who she was now. It was
a reminder of what she and Sara had endured. Because they had endured, she would not allow that time to be forgotten. She was Chesney M. Brighton—orphan and airline stewardess. Chesney M. Brighton, seeker of her heritage and her future. If things worked out, she might one day be one of them.
Sawyer let herself into her small house at noon. It had been careless of her to leave behind the most important papers she needed for the day. She'd looked them over earlier, when she woke. She'd spilled coffee and had tried to dry them off. Always aware of time since her operation, she'd realized she was running late and simply forgot to stuff the papers into her briefcase. Now she was home, cursing her carelessness. She decided to fix herself a cheese sandwich and tea and to forget about not taking a lunch hour. She was halfway through the sandwich when she heard the tinkle of the bell at her garden gate. She walked to the kitchen window. The gardener never rang the bell. He had his own key. She wasn't expecting any
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deliveries, either. There was no panic or fear in her as she walked through the Zen garden to the gate—only curiosity. She fitted her key into the lock and pushed outward. Standing before her was a tall woman about her own age. She wore fashionable clothes, and her hairstyle was simple but elegant. Just the tiniest bit of makeup around her eyes. Beautiful, Sawyer thought. And something else. She swallowed hard and asked if she could be of help.
The voice was soft, cultured and very British. "Are you Sawyer Coleman?"
"Yes, I am."
"I'm Chesney Brighton. My name should be Chesney Nelson. I'm Rand Nelson's daughter. I'm trying to locate him. I was told you might be able to help me." No expression. Just cold, hard, matter-of-fact words.
Sawyer struggled to recover her composure. She locked the gate and led the way into the house, trying to quiet her jumping nerves. Rand's daughter! He'd never mentioned having a daughter. The likeness was there, especially around the eyes. Problems. Not for her but for Maggie and Rand. Maybe. Or maybe it wouldn't be a problem at all.
Sawyer could feel her heart beating erratically. Any mention of Rand Nelson made her ache because he was lost to her, married now to her own mother. And while she hurt and ached, she wouldn't have it any other way. Rand and Maggie were meant for each other. Who was she to deny them happiness? She tried never to think about the wonderful relationship she had shared with Rand years ago, and for the most part she was successful, but every now and then, like now, her past reared up and socked her, forcing her to administer a pep talk to herself. But she couldn't do that right now. Later, when she was alone, she'd tell herself how lucky she was to be alive. She'd concentrate on her comfortable life here in Japan, doing a job she loved for a family she'd die for. One day Rand Nelson would be nothing more than an interlude in her life that hadn't worked out.
"Tea?" Anything to stall for time. She had to collect her thoughts.
"I'd love some. I stopped by the Coleman office and was told you'd come here. I must have missed you by minutes. I hope I'm not intruding."
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"Not at all, but I don't understand why you've come to me."
"I was told that you and my father were . .. are ... that you were getting married. I've been searching for years."
"That was all a very long time ago. Rand, your. .. Rand is married to my mother. They... they live in Hawaii. I don't understand. ... If you're Rand's daughter, why are you searching for him?" She thought she knew the answer, but wanted to hear the words spoken aloud.
A sick feeling settled in Sawyer's stomach. Rand never wanted to have children. He'd confessed once that he wasn't fond of the little buggers. At the time she'd merely laughed, convinced that every man wants children at some point in his life, to carry on his name. Rand hadn't laughed in return. Instead he'd turned very serious and said he wasn't getting any younger and he was set in his ways and children would only complicate his life. She'd been so in love with him at the time that she'd accepted his decision without an argument.
Rand with a checkered past? Most men weren't saints, but then, most men didn't have illegitimate daughters who showed up from out of nowhere. Never once had Rand so much as hinted at a child. She could feel herself drifting back in her memory to that long-ago day when Rand Nelson upset her world ...
"There's something wrong, Rand. You .. . you seem to be avoiding me. . . .Have you had a change of heart?" She held her breath as she waited for his denial.
"Sawyer, there's no easy way to say this. .. .It won't work for us. We're worlds apart. You're young and you have your whole life ahead of you. You deserve children. I don't want children. I. . .1 don't think I ever want to get married."
"Is there someone else?" she blurted, unable to stop herself.
He seemed startlerf that she should ask, even offended. "No, of course there isn't. You know I wouldn't hurt you for the world."
"I don't know any such thing. I don't believe you. It's my mother! You've fallen for my mother!" Sawyer clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.
She could feel herself start to choke.
She wrenched herself back to the moment and faced Ches-ney's voice.
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"I'm Rand Nelson's illegitimate daughter. I was brought up in an orphanage. I was left on the proverbial doorstep with the proverbial note pinned to my nappie. My mother was part of a touring entertainment group. She was young and wanted some adventure in her life. She met my father in Saigon. My father ... Rand Nelson was a chopper flyer for your government, on loan, I believe, from the British. My mother was sketchy on the details, and there was something about Mr. Nelson having a dual citizenship. He flew fire flights in country. It wasn't a war, you see, but more of an altercation; that's why my mother agreed to go with the tour. My ... Mr. Nelson used to go to Saigon on his days off, and that's how he met my mother. His favorite hangout was the Tigress Inn, or so my mother said. My mother believes he saw ... other women, but he always came back to her. She said she loved him very much. He... he was stationed in Da Nang."
She'd heard all this before. From Rand. She hoped what she was feeling wasn't showing in her face. How could this young woman know about the Tigress Inn? She nodded her head for Chesney to continue.
"Trouble developed with the tour group, and the leader went off and left the girls. They in turn got separated. Rand Nelson sort of looked out for my mother until he was called back. She tried to tell him about her pregnancy, but he ... he didn't want to hear and he had to leave. He gave her money. When the tour leader left, he had all the girls' passports and their last week's wages. They were left high and dry. She used the money Mr. Nelson gave her to buy letters of transit on the black market, and the Red Cross got her safely back to England, which is where she had me. End of sad story," Chesney said ruefully. "When it became permissible for orphans to seek out their parents, I searched for and found my mother. At first she refused to tell me anything. She's married now, with a family of her own, and didn't want to disgrace them. I understood. At first she lied to me, saying she didn't know who my father was. I felt she wasn't telling me the truth and I felt she wasn't a promiscuous woman, so I kept going back to her house, day after day, week after week, until I finally wore down her resistance. There is no place in her life for me now. I recognized that and told her she has nothing to fear from me. I don't know if there's a place in my father's life for me either, but I want to see him. I was told that you and he. . . Well,
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what I mean is, information was skimpy and I was lucky to get as much as I did. Do you understand what I've been telling you, Miss Coleman?"
"Every word," Sawyer choked out. What was this going to do to Rand and Maggie? Bring them closer together or cause problems? "Does Rand know? What I mean is, did your mother agree to have an abortion? Did she tell Rand she would?"
Soft gray eyes stared directly into Sawyer's concerned gaze. "I have to assume he thought she had an abortion. So to answer your question, no, he doesn't know of my existence."
"And you wan
t me to put you in touch with your father?" Sawyer held her breath. Of course that's what she wanted. If she were in her position, she'd want the same thing. She knew what it was to grow up without a father.
"I was hoping... I thought you could... what is the expression?... pave the way for me so it wouldn't come as such a shock to him."
The young woman's control was too tight, Sawyer thought. She wanted to know what else Chesney knew about Rand, but she was afraid to ask. Should she check her out? She could be anybody. The girl had managed to track her down halfway around the world. She didn't look like she was hurting for money. Searches like this cost a lot.
Sawyer took a deep breath. "If what you say is true ..." She let the sentence hang in midair.
Chesney waited.
"I can't, I just can't invade my mother's life and make. . . and upset their lives. For all I know, you could be an impostor. Do you have any sort of documentation?" As if she needed any. The girl was almost an exact replica of Rand. She could be some sort of distant relative, though, not necessarily a daughter. Rand was a wealthy man.
"I understand what you're going through," Chesney said. "You must be wondering about a lot of things. Where am I getting the money to do this, for one. It would be much too costly under ordinary circumstances, but I'm a stewardess. I can pretty much fly all over the world on my time off and pay only the tax. My job pays well and I've been frugal. It's the best I can offer for now."
"What was your mother's name?"
"Marion Brighton. My mother did one thing to help me. She gave me this." Chesney drew out her billfold, snapped it
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