"It's me, Mom. Sorry we woke you." There was a click and Babs blinked in the sudden flood of light. She had a vague impression of floral wallpaper and hardwood floors but her attention was focused on the woman coming down the stairs. Sam went forward to greet her, meeting her at the foot of the stairs and putting his arms around her, swinging her off her feet.
"Beautiful as ever, I see." His mother laughed, a sweet, youthful sound.
"Put me down, hooligan, and let me look at you." He set her on her feet and she looked up at him, studying him with a mother's eye. "You've got a bruise on your cheekbone, which probably means you've been in a fight, and you need a shave. I was beginning to worry about you."
"I'm okay. We're both okay." He smiled at Babs over his mother's head and Cecily turned.
"You must be Babs. It's so nice to meet you." Babs came forward slowly, wondering whether she should hold out her hand or just smile. Cecily appeared to think that neither of those was appropriate. She held out her arms, enveloping the younger woman in a quick hug. The gesture was warm and genuine, a welcome Babs had never received from her own family. She returned the hug awkwardly, blinking back tears.
Cecily stepped back, putting her hands on Babs's shoulders. "You're much prettier than your pictures. Even prettier than your uncle Emmet said you were."
"You've talked to Uncle Emmet?"
"Has he been here?"
The two questions ran one on top of the other but Cecily didn't seem to have any trouble sorting them out.
"Yes, I've talked to your uncle and yes, he's been here." She tightened the belt of her long velour robe and ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it into casual gray waves. "I bet you're both hungry. Why don't you come into the kitchen and I'll make some coffee and some breakfast. You can call Emmet from the phone in there."
She linked her arm through Babs's. "Emmet has been very worried about you."
"What did he tell you?" Sam asked the question as the three of them stepped into the huge kitchen.
"He knows your family arranged the kidnapping and he knew about Sam's call to say he'd rescued you, but then the two of you just disappeared. We didn't know what happened."
"It's a long story, Mom. If you don't mind, could we wait until Emmet gets here so we only have to tell it once?"
"Of course. His number is right there next to the phone. That's the hotel he's staying at. He refused to stay with the family."
"You want me to call him?" Sam asked Babs quietly.
"Would you mind? I think I'd start crying." She smiled but her mouth quivered and he knew she wasn't far from tears now.
"Come on, sit down and have a cup of coffee and think about how nice it is that nobody's shooting at us." He reached out and brushed her hair back from her face, his fingers gentle. Babs turned to rest her cheek against his palm for just a moment, drawing strength from the contact.
Cecily watched the exchange, her eyes narrowing. She couldn't see her son's face but she could see the girl's. Her expression was revealing and Cecily wondered if Babs had any idea just what was written there. An even stronger question in her mind was whether Sam saw the same thing and how he felt about it.
By the time Emmet arrived, Sam and Babs were working on their second cups of coffee and Cecily was halfway through preparations for a breakfast of bacon and eggs and hash browns. When the doorbell rang, Babs set her cup down with a thud, slopping coffee onto the table top. She didn't even notice. Cecily looked at her, her eyes warm.
"Why don't you go answer that?"
"Thank you." Babs hurried from the room. Sam watched her leave. His mother watched him.
"She's very pretty."
"Yes, she is."
"She seems sweet."
"She can be." Sam reached for a napkin and mopped up the spilled coffee. "She can also be quite a spoiled brat."
"That's not surprising, growing up with all that money." She chopped potatoes into neat cubes. "The two of you must have gotten to know each other pretty well."
"I suppose."
"I've heard it said that you can get to know a person's true colors when they're under stress. Babs seems to have come through this in good shape."
"She's got guts." Sam's tone was deliberately noncommittal.
"Amazing how close you can get to someone when you're alone with them for days on end."
Sam's smile held a weary edge. "Look, Mom, if you're playing matchmaker, give it up. You're about as subtle as a steamroller. Besides, it's a ridiculous idea."
"Why?"
The simple question seemed to throw him off balance and he stared at her for a minute without speaking. "Why? For a million reasons. Several million, in fact."
"Her money? Don't be ridiculous."
"It's not ridiculous. Besides, this whole discussion is irrelevant. Babs and I have managed to get along just fine because we had to but we have nothing in common. Once this whole mess is settled, we'll go our separate ways and that will be the end of it."
Cecily hadn't been a mother for thirty-five years without learning when to drop a subject. She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug as if to say that Sam might be right. She slid the potatoes into hot oil and set a lid over the pan before glancing at her son. He was staring at his coffee, his expression brooding. Sam could say what he wanted but she knew what she'd seen in his eyes when he looked at Babs.
When Emmet and Babs entered the kitchen, there were tearstains on her face and his eyes were a bit brighter than normal. Sam stood up as Babs slipped out from under her uncle's arm. Emmet stopped and held out his hand.
"I suspect I've got a lot to thank you for, Sam. When we parted company in Mexico, I never would have thought we'd meet up again quite like this." He shook Sam's hand, the fierce pressure expressing his gratitude.
"I'd like to tell you it was no big deal but, starting with Babs trying to push me off a balcony, I'm afraid we've both had a bit more on our hands than either of us wanted."
"Tried to push you off a balcony, did she? Well, I'm sure she had a good reason. So, tell me what's been going on. We haven't heard a word from you in days. I was beginning to think you'd decided to kidnap Babs yourself."
"Breakfast is just about ready. Why don't you all sit down and we can talk while we eat."
"It smells wonderful, Mrs. Delanian."
"Call me Cecily. I certainly plan to call you Babs. I've got lots of food and I have a suspicion that it's been awhile since the two of you had a good hot breakfast."
Well, we almost had one a couple of days ago but Babs started a fight and we never got to eat." Sam threw Babs a teasing look and she grinned.
"I didn't start that fight. George started it. I was just minding my own business."
They bickered back and forth while Cecily dished up food. Emmet and Cecily watched them, noting the easy camaraderie, the way their eyes met, holding so many memories. Emmet glanced at Cecily, a question in his eyes. She smiled and shrugged lightly, denying any positive knowledge but the faint smile that quivered around her lips gave her opinion. Looking from one to the other, Emmet's mouth curved. Maybe Sam Delanian was just what Babs needed in her life. This whole kidnapping insanity might not turn out to be such a bad thing after all.
It took over an hour for Sam and Babs to tell their story. In between bites, they took turns talking, telling the whole adventure, starting with the kidnapping itself, through Sam's rescue, the fight at the motel, their travels in the moving van and finally, their escape from the farmhouse.
By the time the story was told, the food was all gone and they were lingering over fresh coffee. While they talked, the sun had come up outside and was spilling cheerful spring light into the big kitchen.
"So what was happening here while we were gone?" Babs asked the question of her uncle. "How did you find out about the kidnapping? Did the family tell you about the paintings?"
"I found out you'd been kidnapped the same way the rest of the world did—I read about it in the paper. I don't think they'd have told me a thing b
ut Bertie let the cat out of the bag. At least enough of the cat that they had to tell me the rest of it.
"They honestly thought they could get away with cheating a man like Stefanoni, and with kidnapping you. I don't think the lot of them has touched base with reality in years. I talked with Stefanoni and he's willing to forget the whole thing, as long as he gets the real paintings."
"I bet Aunt Dodie liked that."
"She just about had a heart attack but I didn't give her much choice. Anyway, that end of the mess is straightened out. Now all we've got to worry about is whoever has been taking potshots at the two of you."
"I'm sure it's a mistake of some kind." Babs's tone was more pleading than firm. "We may not get along but I can't believe that any of them would actually kill me.
Emmet shrugged and said nothing, letting the comment lie as if he might agree with it. But meeting his eyes, Sam knew he didn't believe it any more than Sam did. Someone in the Malone family wanted Babs dead. The question was: Who?
Chapter 13
"I really don't want to intrude."
"Don't be silly, Babs. I'd love to have you and Sam stay here with me." Cecily's warm tone could not be mistaken for anything other than sincere welcome. Still, Babs hesitated.
"I really think this will be the best thing," Emmet said. "It will give me a chance to find out what's going on. I can dump the car you stole so you can't be traced from that. You and Sam can stay here for a couple of days until I've made a few inquiries and have found out who's behind the shootings."
Babs looked from her uncle to Sam, her eyes questioning. Would he mind her staying with his mother? She wanted to stay. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was to go back to that mausoleum the rest of the family called home. It had never been a home, not in the real sense of the word. But she didn't want to stay here unless Sam wanted her to.
"I think it would be a good idea, Babs. You'll be safe here until we know what's going on. It's only for a couple of days. You can stand me that much longer, can't you?" He grinned but there was something in his eyes beyond humor. There were questions there, uncertainties that mirrored her own.
Everything had changed so quickly. When it had been just the two of them, struggling to survive, things had been fairly simple. Now, wrapped in the cozy warmth of his mother's home, everything had shifted in some subtle way—and she couldn't put her finger on it.
Babs turned to Cecily. "I'd like to stay, if you're sure you don't mind."
"Not a bit. Why don't you come upstairs with me and I'll show you where you'll be sleeping and where the bathroom is. I bet a hot shower would feel nice."
"Heaven. Hot water has been in short supply over the past few days."
Sam's eyes followed the two of them, his expression unreadable. When they were out of sight, he looked at Emmet.
"So, what do you really think? Is there someone in the family who's capable of murder?"
Emmet ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it into iron-gray waves. His eyes were worried. "I don't know. It's hard to say what people will do when money is involved. There's not a one of them that's worth a plug nickel and they've never quite gotten over Babs having the money to buy and sell the whole bunch. She never held it over them and she's bailed them out time and again, but that just made them resent her more."
"So what do you think the next step should be? Do we call the police?"
"I suppose we'd better call and let them know Babs is no longer a kidnap victim. I still have some friends on the force. I think I can convince them to keep this quiet, at least for a day or two. When it was just a matter of this ridiculous kidnapping scheme, I was willing to try to keep the family out of it. But if one of them is trying to kill Babs, then they'll have to take their chances just like ordinary mortals."
"Well, those were definitely real bullets they were shooting at us and the guys who jumped us at the motel looked real serious about their work."
"I'll see what I can find out. I want to thank you for what you did for my niece."
Sam shrugged. "I just did what had to be done."
But now that it was done, where did that leave him and Babs?
❧
It wasn't an easy question to answer—for either of them. Sam lay awake that night, in the room that had been his when he was a boy. Just across the hall was the spare bedroom where Babs was presumably asleep. It was strange to be so close to her and yet separated by closed doors. He was only just now realizing that, since climbing over the balcony, there'd been hardly a moment when they weren't in sight of each other.
He stared up at the ceiling, hands under his head. It was late. He'd driven all night the night before. He should have been sleeping, not lying awake pondering how quickly life could change. The quiet neighborhood slept, full of suburban serenity. Sam only wished some of that serenity would rub off on him.
Soon this would all be over. Emmet had dumped the car they'd taken from the killers. He'd talked to a friend on the police force who'd agreed to give them forty-eight hours and then the police were going to start official questioning. Emmet hadn't told him about the apparent murder attempts, only that the kidnapping had been a sort of bizarre family joke that had gotten out of hand. It was unlikely the police department would be amused.
In Sam's considered opinion, the entire Malone clan deserved to be hung by their thumbs. Not just for this madness, but for all the years they'd ignored a lonely little girl and all the times they'd used her. But that wasn't his problem. He had to keep reminding himself of that. In forty-eight hours or less, this whole mess would be settled, either with or without the police. His part in it was all but over.
They'd find out who wanted Babs dead, they'd turn them over to the police and he'd be able to go back to his own life and forget all about the demented Malone family. Only he wasn't sure it was going to be that easy. Something told him that Babs wasn't going to be easy to put behind him.
The next thirty-six hours were unusual. After all the danger and adventuring they'd been through, neither Sam nor Babs quite knew what to do with themselves when no one was shooting at them or chasing them. They also didn't quite know what to do with each other.
Sam found himself avoiding Babs and then missing her when she wasn't in sight. It didn't matter how many times he told himself that he was glad this mess was almost over, he couldn't convince himself that he was going to be able to walk away at the end of it. Something pulled him to Babs even as he backed away. Something stronger than just the bonds of two people who'd gone through a dangerous time together.
It was crazy. They had nothing in common. She probably thought nothing of vacationing in St. Moritz, he was more inclined to backpack into the Sierras. He was eleven years older than she was and centuries older in experience. He, better than anyone, knew what her temper could be like. But he found himself thinking of the way her face lit up when she smiled, the way her mouth softened under his and the way her body curved to fit his.
"Sam. What do you think?"
Sam blinked and shook his head, aware that his mind had been miles away from the conversation. He glanced across the table at Emmet and smiled ruefully.
"Sorry. I was thinking of something else."
"So I noticed."
Sam didn't think it was coincidence that the other man's eyes rested on Babs for a moment. Sam looked at her, trying not to notice the way the early morning sunshine caught in her hair, picking out golden highlights. Her eyes met his, questioningly, and he wondered if she had the same questions he did, the same confused thoughts.
He looked away from her and picked up his coffee cup. "So, what did you say?"
Emmet pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair, reaching for his pipe. "I've arranged to get the whole family together tomorrow around noon. I figure the best way to find the rotten apple is to get them all together and shake them up a bit. Then we can find out who's trying to kill Babs."
"I still can't really believe that they'd actually want me
dead." Babs shook her head, the small movement stirring her hair, reminding Sam of the silky feel of it in his hands, against his body.
Cecily reached out and took Babs's hand where it lay on the table, squeezing it gently. "Perhaps you're right and it's just a terrible misunderstanding."
Babs looked at her, still a bit shy with this woman who seemed to be the embodiment of all her childhood fantasies of what a mother should be.
"I hope I'm right."
"Well, I hope you are too, muffin." Emmet pulled out his tobacco pouch and unzipped it. Before he could reach into it, Cecily had taken both it and the pipe from him. Her slim fingers packed tobacco into the pipe in neat little chunks, tamping it to just the right firmness before adding another layer. Emmet took it from her with a smile, touching his fingers lightly to the back of her hand. "Thanks. You've certainly got a magic touch with pipes."
"Flatterer." Her smile lit her eyes, making her look years younger.
Sam stared at them, his eyes narrowing slightly. He couldn't count the times he'd seen his mother perform the same little task with his father's pipe. He felt a surprising twinge of resentment that she was doing it for another man. But the resentment didn't last, not when he saw the sparkle in her eyes. Anything that made her look that happy was okay with him. It just might take a little getting used to.
"So, what do you think, Sam?" Emmet lit the pipe, filling the room with a sweet, spicy scent.
Sam had to drag his mind back to the question at hand. There seemed to be so many questions lately that it was hard to remember which one he was supposed to focus on.
"Sounds good to me. I've always wanted to be in on an Agatha Christie-style interrogation. Too bad we can't do it at midnight. We could add a few candles for atmosphere."
"Not a bad idea but nothing short of an act of Congress could get Dodie to stay up past ten. She believes that late hours have contributed to the decline of western civilization. Noon will have to do."
"It'll do. Just what do you have in mind?"
"Well, nothing specific. I figure maybe we can just try to shake them up a bit and see what falls out."
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