The High Price of Secrets

by Yvonne Lindsay

  He started to walk toward his car, Tamsyn following him.

  “I enjoyed the coffee,” she said, “and the lesson in how to make it. Thank you for coming over.”

  “No problem. Say, are you busy for dinner tonight? I was wondering if you’d like to come up the hill and eat with me. Beats eating alone.”

  “Are you sure I won’t be any bother?”

  “One steak or two on the grill, it makes no difference to me.”

  “Okay, then,” she agreed. “I’d like that. How about I bring a salad and something for dessert?”

  “I’ve got dessert covered, but if you’d like to bring a salad that’d be great. See you around six?”

  “Sure.” She nodded eagerly, her dark eyes glowing. “I’m looking forward to it already.”

  Nine

  The afternoon dragged interminably. Tamsyn dusted and polished and vacuumed the cottage feverishly. She’d had to keep busy to keep her mind off the dinner ahead.

  Over and over she’d told herself it was just a neighborly gesture, but she couldn’t forget that moment yesterday when they’d almost kissed. Of course, she’d castigated herself several times over for a fool for even contemplating kissing another man. It had only been a matter of days since she’d broken her engagement. But had it been a true engagement?

  She’d thought so at the time, even though their relationship had been low on intimacy and high on society events. Looking back, she realized that Trent had been grooming her to be his very public partner right from the start of their relationship—introducing her to the senior partners of the law firm where he worked at his earliest opportunity. She could see now that she’d been a smoke screen to hide the parts of himself that his conservative bosses wouldn’t have liked, and now that the shock was receding, she was angry. Angry at him for using her so badly and, even more so, angry with herself for not realizing she was being used.

  Perhaps if she hadn’t had such a sheltered upbringing at The Masters. Perhaps if she’d traveled widely, like her soon-to-be-sister-in-law, Isobel, or been more outgoing or…well, anything—it might have saved her from making herself into the biggest fool in her family’s history. Whatever, she’d grown up the way she had, made the choices and decisions that had led her to Trent and now here. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

  Yet, if that was the case, why did she feel she had so much to prove? Why was it so important to her that a man like Finn Gallagher find her attractive? She’d be stupid not to have seen the way he looked at her. She’d done a fair bit of looking herself—he was, after all, gorgeous, and he made her feel almost gorgeous herself. Maybe a fling with a man like Finn Gallagher was exactly what she needed.

  She was going to dinner with an attractive man. One who’d asked for her company. One who she’d seen every day since she arrived here. That had to count for something, surely. He’d chosen to seek her out, chosen to spend time with her. The idea gave her a happy buzz and she went out to the vegetable garden with a spring in her step.

  Bringing a salad for tonight’s meal might not be much of a contribution, but she’d make sure it was the best salad Finn Gallagher had ever seen. After picking the salad greens and some early ripe cherry tomatoes, and pulling a couple of fresh radishes from the plot, she took everything inside to wash and drain. Afterward, she went for another brief shower and decided on what to wear tonight. Jeans just felt too casual and she’d already bundled up the skirt and blouse he’d seen her wear on Saturday for recycling—never wanting to ever wear them again. Given her limited options, that pretty much left the purple-and-blue dress she’d worn on Sunday.

  Well, why not, she decided, pulling it off the hanger and slipping it on over her head. She loved it and she might as well get the use out of it. She brushed her hair out thoroughly until it crackled beneath the bristles then swept half of it up into a loose knot, leaving the lower section to tumble down her back and over her shoulders. Glancing at herself in the mirror she found herself smiling. Yeah, she liked the effect.

  A quick application of the limited cosmetics she’d had in her handbag when she’d boarded the flight to New Zealand and she was ready.

  Putting the salad together only took a few minutes and the colorful combination of the vegetables and tomatoes was both appetizing and attractive. A quick glance at the carriage clock on the sideboard in the dining room confirmed it was five minutes to six. Perfect. She covered the bowl with cling wrap and, grabbing her keys from the hall table, she locked up and went out to her car.

  Lucy lifted her head briefly from where she lay curled up on one of the wicker chairs at the front.

  “I’m off on a hot date, Lucy,” Tamsyn called to her. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while I’m gone.”

  Inside the car, Tamsyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves, with little success. Her hand shook slightly as she reached to put her key in the ignition.

  This was ridiculous, she thought as she finally managed to insert the key and set the engine to life. It was dinner. That was all. Nothing more. Nothing less. If that was the case, then why did her heart beat so fast and why were her cheeks lit with a flush of anticipation?

  Because she was being stupid, she told herself sternly as she guided her car up the hill toward Finn’s residence.

  Once again she was struck by the majesty of his home as she pulled up outside. The imposing entrance, with its cathedral style two-story ceiling, made her feel small and insignificant as she got out of her car and started toward the door, bowl in hand. She felt as if she should be bearing a gift of more significance—not merely a salad.

  She lifted, then dropped, the heavy iron door knocker and waited. When the door opened, Finn literally took her breath away. Hair still wet from his shower, jeans slung low on his hips, he was still buttoning his shirt, giving her a glimpse of a hard ridged abdomen and a broad muscled chest. Words failed her.

  “Sorry, I’m running a bit late, I had a phone call,” he said as he finished his buttoning. “I’m not usually this disorganized. Here, come in.”

  “Here’s the salad,” Tamsyn managed to say past a throat that had been temporarily paralyzed with longing.

  “Great, it looks delicious. Follow me, I’ll take it through to the kitchen.”

  Tamsyn followed behind, noticing that Finn had bare feet that hardly made a sound on the polished wooden floors. God, even his feet were sexy, she thought as her inner muscles clenched involuntarily. She dragged her eyes upward, focusing instead on a point just between his shoulders in an attempt to drag her contrary hormones under some form of control.

  “Take a seat while I check on the marinade,” Finn said, gesturing to a set of solid-wood high-backed bar stools at the edge of a large granite breakfast bar.

  “Thanks. Do you mind if I take my shoes off?” Tamsyn asked, feeling just a little overdressed.

  “Make yourself at home.” He smiled in response before applying his attention to the dish he had on the countertop and turning the meat inside it.

  Tamsyn was assailed with the aromas of ginger and garlic and felt her mouth begin to water.

  “That smells great,” she commented.

  “It’s going to be,” Finn said with a conspiratorial wink that did weird things to her stomach all over again. “Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

  “Sure, that’d be nice.”

  “Red or white?”

  “How about you surprise me,” she answered, all capability of making any rational decisions gone in his company.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute. Unless you’d like to see my wine cellar?”

  She laughed. “Does that fall under the same category as seeing your etchings?” Heat flamed in her cheeks as she realized what she’d just said and she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t me
an anything by that, it just slipped out!”

  Finn laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine amusement. “It’s no problem and, for the record, no, this isn’t in the same category at all. The cellar is through this way,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  Tamsyn tried not to think about the way his warm dry hand encapsulated her own or how the sensation of his palm against hers sent her synapses into meltdown. Instead, she focused on her breathing as they walked through a door off the kitchen and down a couple of stairs before continuing along a short tiled corridor.

  “The cellar is built into the side of the hill,” Finn said as they went down a couple more stairs before stopping at a door. “Obviously it’s easier to keep it temperature controlled this way.”

  He opened the door and Tamsyn couldn’t stop the captivated sigh of appreciation as she saw the shelved walls open up before her.

  “This is impressive,” she said, stepping forward and checking the labels on some of the several hundred bottles of wine on shelves that crisscrossed the walls. “Ethan would love this.”

  “Ethan?” Finn asked, raising one brow.

  “My brother. He’s our head winemaker at The Masters.”

  “Maybe he’ll visit sometime,” he said blandly before selecting two bottles from the shelves. “Here we go. How about a pinot gris to start and then a pinot noir with dinner?”

  “Sounds great,” Tamsyn agreed and turned to precede him out of the cellar and back to the kitchen.

  While Finn opened the white wine and poured two glasses, Tamsyn drifted over to the wall of French doors that opened out onto a wide patio.

  “This is quite a house you have,” she said as she accepted the glass of wine Finn brought over to her.

  “It’s big, yeah, but it’s home,” Finn said, reaching past her to open the glass door and guided her outside onto the patio. “Take a seat,” he invited. “I’ll just get some appetizers.”

  Tamsyn perched on the edge of a comfortably padded patio chair and waited for Finn to return. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him return with a tray laden with antipasto.

  “Wow, you put all this together?”

  “One of my many talents,” he answered with a smile. “A…close friend of my father’s taught me to appreciate life with all its flavors. These are just some of them.”

  “Sounds like a great friend to have.”

  Finn took a sip of his wine before nodding. “The best. When my dad died and my mother became unwell, he stepped up and provided me with a home. I’ll always be grateful to him for that. I owe him a lot.”

  Tamsyn heard the subtext behind Finn’s words. Whoever this man was, he’d obviously been a big influence in Finn’s life.

  “You were young when your father passed away?”

  “Twelve. Mom got sick soon after.”

  “That must have been hard. I’m really sorry,” Tamsyn said with her heart behind every syllable.

  “It was a long time ago.” Finn sat staring out at the ranges for a while before leaning forward and lifting the antipasto platter toward her. “Here, try some.”

  “This is really lovely,” Tamsyn said, taking a piece of artichoke and lifting it to her lips. “You have an amazing setting here.”

  Finn nodded. “I love it. I could never imagine living anywhere else.”

  “I used to feel that way about The Masters…” Tamsyn let her voice trail away.

  Right now she wondered if she’d ever feel it was home again. She felt so disordered, as if her life was so jumbled that she might never feel settled again.

  “Used to?”

  “Things change,” Tamsyn said with a shrug, thinking of both the lie her father had perpetuated for most of her life—letting her and Ethan think their mother had died—and Trent’s duplicity. “People frequently turn out to be someone different to what you thought.”

  There was more to it than that. The lies had driven her away…but with the perspective that came from distance, she realized that she hadn’t been happy, even before she knew the truth. She’d always felt safe at The Masters—sheltered and protected. But she’d never felt truly, fully alive. Nothing about her job had her deeply invested; nothing in her personal life made her deeply happy. Perhaps she’d outgrown “safe and sheltered.” Maybe she needed something more.

  “Sounds deep. Want to talk about it?”

  Tamsyn sat silent for a moment or two. Did she want to talk about it? She wasn’t sure. She certainly didn’t want to spoil what had started out to be a lovely evening by delving into her doubts and questions.

  “Not really,” she decided out loud. “I’ll deal with it in my own way.”

  “If you ever need an ear or a shoulder—” he tapped himself on the chest “—you can apply here.”

  They turned their discussion to generalities about the area and Finn soon had Tamsyn in stitches over some of the stories about Gladys from the hall office from when he was a boy. Seems she’d been old even then. Mind you, Tamsyn mused, maybe some people were just born old.

  Finn suggested they return inside after he’d grilled the steaks. He turned perfectly baked potatoes onto their plates together with their steaks and took them to a casual dining table just inside the French doors. He put her salad onto the table, poured them each a glass of red wine and sat down.

  By the time they finished, it was growing dark. They lingered over their wine, Tamsyn mindful that she still had to negotiate the driveway and a small section of road before she reached home tonight.

  “You know,” she said, gesturing to the darkening vista spread before them, “where your house is reminds me a lot of Masters Rise. It was our family home before it was destroyed by bushfires nearly forty years ago. But it had an outlook like this, over the vineyards.”

  “It must have been a struggle for your family rebuilding after the fire.”

  “Yeah, it was. I think that’s part of the reason our father was so distant with us as kids. He was focused on re-creating what the old days had been like for the family. Between him, his brother and my aunt, they have all had a hand in restoring the vineyards and the family business. It was pretty demanding.”

  So demanding that the man hadn’t had time for his wife, Finn thought angrily. He’d been eight years old when Lorenzo and Ellen had arrived here and he still remembered the incredibly fragile woman Ellen had been. One thing had been constant for her, though. Her love for the children she’d been forced to leave behind. And now one of them sat here, with him. Finally making an effort to reconnect with a woman for whom it was all very possibly too late.

  Finn forced his attention back to his guest.

  “And your mother, where did she fit into all this?” It was hard to keep his emotions out of his voice.

  “You know, I barely remember her. Sure, I have snippets of memories here and there, but I was just turning three when she left. I wonder, sometimes, what kind of woman just walks away from her children.”

  “There are always two sides to every story.”

  Finn reached for his wine and took a deep swallow. He ached to defend Ellen, but he couldn’t, not without betraying Lorenzo’s trust.

  Tamsyn laughed. A sound that totally lacked humor, however, and bordered on the satirical.

  “In our case I think there are way more than two sides. I grew up thinking my mother was dead. It was kind of a shock to find out she wasn’t.”

  “Dead?”

  Finn felt a chill seep through him. What had happened? Had John Masters been so intent on ensuring his wife walked away with nothing from their marriage that he’d even lied to their children? What kind of father did that to his kids? And what did that do to the children when they grew up and learned the truth?

  Ten

  “Ethan and I only found out recently, af
ter our father died. If Ethan hadn’t queried some financial statements in the estate we still wouldn’t know.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Finn urged, suddenly reminded of his own words that there were two sides to every story. So far he’d only heard Ellen’s version of events through Lorenzo’s protective filter.

  “All I know is my mother tried to leave my father. Apparently she had Ethan and me in a car with her. She’d…she’d been drinking and lost control. Ethan and I were briefly hospitalized. Dad told our mom she could go if she wanted, but she wasn’t taking us with her. He agreed to pay her a monthly sum if she’d stay away. And she did. She just left. Dad had been making payments to her all this time. She accepted money to leave us behind.”

  “And that’s why you want to find her now? To find out why?”

  Tamsyn turned her wineglass around and around in her hands and he watched her as she stared at the ruby liquid inside the crystal bowl, her face pensive.

  “Yes,” she said decisively, putting her wineglass down on the table with an audible clink. “I think I deserve to know why I had to grow up without a mother.”

  There was still a raw pain echoing in her; Finn could feel it as if it were a tangible thing in the room with them. He felt his earlier assumptions about Tamsyn Masters begin to crumble.

  It can’t have been easy for a little girl to grow up with a distant father and no mother, no matter how efficient her nannies must have been and no matter what other family she had around her. Kids needed their parents, both of them. He’d been lucky, at least for the first twelve years of his life and then, subsequently, with the love and support given to him by Lorenzo and Ellen.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want for anything at all growing up. Ethan and I were close, he’s always been so protective of me, Dad loved me in his way and I’ve always been tight with my cousins. I just want to know why she left us. Why we were so unimportant to her that she could just walk away.”