Come Home To Love (Harlequin Signature Select)

by Joan Hohl

  "Did you have a nice nap?" Katherine felt her spine stiffen at the tone of his voice, for even though it was low, there was a forced casualness to it. "Yes, thank you." Her own tone sounded stilted and she winced at the swift, hard look he sent her before he got out of the car and moved to the trunk to get their suitcases.

  Katherine moved slowly from the car and across the drive to precede Matt up the four wide steps to the door.

  Opening the door she stepped onto the rich, highly glossed hardwood floor of the large entrance hall. Holding the door for Matt, she watched him as he set the cases to one side, then without a word to her, he turned toward the hall closet. As he began shrugging out of the light-weight brown raincoat that covered his suit, she turned to close the door.

  Hand still on the knob, Katherine went taut, as a lazy, barely concealed, insolent voice floated across the hall from the doorway to the living room. "Welcome home, Matt, I see you've found the wandering one."

  Forcing herself to move slowly, Katherine turned just as Matt, not bothering to reply to his sister's remark, said sharply, "Jonathon?"

  "Oh! He's fine. Arrived safe and sound. Still having his afternoon nap, as far as I know."

  Beth's voice had changed subtly as she answered her brother. Never, never would insolence tinge her tone when she spoke to him.

  Divorced from her husband five years ago, she had given up her apartment and moved in with Matt the following year when he had bought this house.

  He had bought the house with the idea of persuading his parents, still living in the same small farmhouse, to live with him. They had gently, but firmly, refused. His brother James, still unmarried, and working for Matt, had taken up the offer at once.

  Beth had run the house and played the role of hostess for both her brothers, on the occasions they required one, only, seemingly giving way when Matt married Katherine. But both women knew who ruled the roost in this house. It wasn't Katherine.

  At thirty-two, Elizabeth Tarrel had had life just about the way she wanted it. A beautiful home as a background, an unlimited budget and a brother who paid the bills, whom she thought she managed very nicely. She had not been about to give it up without a fight.

  But the battle had never been joined. Katherine had realized very quickly, on first meeting Beth, that they could never be friends, and that if she was to assert her

  rights as Matt's wife, it would cause discord, if not an open breach between brother and sister. She felt she did not have the right to do this and so had abstained.

  Beth gave lip service to the effect of Katherine as mistress of the house. But everyone knew, with the possible exception of Matt, who seemed forever too busy to notice such things, who actually was.

  Now, as Matt turned to finish hanging up his coat, Beth's eyes went over Katherine with disdain. "You're a little too old to be running away from home, aren't you?" Katherine was not fooled by the teasing note in Beth's voice, for her eyes were coldly contemptuous. "I thought one outgrew that sort of thing when one left adolescence."

  Katherine didn't bother to answer but found herself holding her breath, waiting for Matt to silence his sister. The seconds stretched long and as no word of reproof came she had to fight to keep her shoulders straight as a feeling of sick despair washed over her. Nothing had changed. Nothing.

  Matt's voice, when it came, was cool, withdrawn. "Any calls of importance?"

  "Are you kidding? The phone hasn't stopped ringing. There's a stack of messages on your desk and your secretary called not five minutes before you pulled up." Beth's voice had a triumphant ring that made Katherine feel nauseous. She studied her sister-in-law, wondering why Beth continually played this game of one-upmanship.

  Tall, full figured, without being in the least bit heavy, with lovely features and glorious long hair the same deep auburn color as Matt's, Beth was a very attractive woman. She had everything a woman could possibly want, including several nice looking well-off men danc-

  ing attendance. So why did she dislike her so? Kather-ine had asked herself that question a hundred times. The only answer that presented itself was that Beth still considered her a threat in some way to the position she herself held here.

  Matt's voice cut across her thoughts. "I'll be in my study until dinner." Whom was he speaking to? Her? His sister? She shrugged slightly and walked quickly across the hall to the magnificent wide curving staircase that seemed to hang suspended in air with no means of support.

  "I'll check on Jonathon," she murmured, hurrying up the stairs. She had to get away from their eyes as she was visibly shaking now.

  She didn't pause on the landing at the top of the stairs but crossed it and went halfway down the hallway which ran the length of the house.

  She stopped at the door taking several deep breaths to calm herself, then walked in, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Mary Ranzanna looked up from the book she was reading, smiled and said "Hi." Then added, a gleam of mischief in her eyes, "Have a nice—rest?"

  Katherine felt her cheeks grow warm and Mary laughed softly. "That's one of the things I've always admired about people with fair skin. They never seem to outgrow the blush. I think it's lovely."

  Katherine smiled, relaxing a little, and for the thousandth time thanked heaven for Mary. How could she possibly manage without her?

  Mary was a practical nurse and had been on duty in maternity when Jonathon was born. Katherine had brought her home with her. Hired officially as Jonathon's nurse, she was also close friend and confidante to'Katherine.

  Small with a rounded, ample figure, with Latin dark hair and skin and flashing black eyes, she was a bundle of Italian energy, and her friendship and calm counsel helped keep Katherine on an even keel.

  "You come to see the boss?" Mary's throaty voice was warmly compassionate.

  Katherine nodded as she walked across the soft carpeting of the small sitting-cum-play room to the door on her left leading to an adjoining room. The door was slightly ajar, so Mary could hear any stirrings, and Katherine pushed it open carefully, then moved to stand beside the crib in the center of the room. She stood gazing down at the small form, sprawled in sleep, with adoring eyes.

  Her son. Matt's son. Obviously Matt's son, for he was a small replica of his father. Mary had laughingly told Matt it was as if he had fed his likeness into one of the copying machines in his office and it had produced an exact copy. Matt had only grunted in reply but Katherine had known the remark had pleased him, as it would any father with his first born.

  He's so beautiful, Katherine thought and felt the back of her eyes grow gritty and hot. He'd grown so fast and fleshed out so perfectly, with his skin pink and glowingly healthy, that it was hard to believe it was just six months since she had delivered him prematurely, so tiny and scrawny looking. Even then he'd been the image of Matt. She repressed the urge to reach out her hand and smooth the fine auburn hair and, turning quickly, went back into the other room.

  A pleasant room, the walls painted a creamy color, with one fair-sized window hung with dull gold draperies that exactly matched the color of the carpet on the

  floor. In one corner, sat a small table and chairs with a mound of toys around it that Jonathon would not be ready for for years. In another was a large bookcase which held not only the latest but also quite a few of the older novels. Along one wall, was a worktable with a sewing machine on it. Mary had a passion for sewing and made all her own clothes. Flanking the window were two comfortable easy chairs between which stood a table at armrest height, which held a lamp, a few of Mary's knickknacks and pictures of her two grown sons. This room had given comfort and warmth to Katherine on many of the nights Matt was not at home—which meant Mary saw Katherine most evenings for Matt was seldom home early, if at all.

  Mary waved her hand at the chair opposite to her own as Katherine reentered the room and, slipping out of her russet suede jacket, dropped into it. "You look like you've been through a small skirmish, so I'll hazard a guess, you met
the general in the front hall. Right?" Katherine gave a small smile and nodded.

  Mary's voice took on a slight edge of impatience.

  "Why the hell you take it from that bitch I'll never understand. You're no shy, retiring miss, Kate, and I know you're certainly not afraid of her. Why don't you put her in her place?"

  Katherine smiled wryly thinking, Mary is the only one who calls me Kate, and then checked herself. Matt had called her Kate the last two days. And her breath seemed to catch in her throat in the same way it had the first time he'd said it. Her smile gone now she said, "You know why, Mary."

  "Bull!" came the inelegant reply.

  Not wanting to jump onto that merry-go-round with

  Mary again, Katherine shrugged and said, "I really shouldn't be here, I have to change for dinner. You are joining us?"

  "Of course," Mary answered airily sweeping a hand down the front of her long silky skirt. "As you see, I'm dressed for same."

  The remark hit the target it was aimed at. It brought a genuine smile to Katherine's lips. Mary took all her meals, at Matt's insistence from the first day she'd come to the house, downstairs with the family when Katherine was in the house. But if Katherine was out, whether for one meal or all of them, Mary had hers in this room. And she never bothered changing for dinner when she did.

  Mary could hot abide Beth and made no bones about it from the outset. And Mary was, with the exception of Matt, the only person in the household that Beth was wary of.

  In her forty-five years Mary had worked in a factory, taken her practical nurse's training, raised and helped put through college two fine sons and two years before had buried a much loved husband. She had worked hard and seen much and was completely unimpressed with the airs and graces, as she called them, of one Elizabeth Tarrel. And Beth knew it.

  Katherine stood and walked to the door saying, "See you downstairs," then retraced her steps of a short while ago to the wide landing at the top of the stairs. A sturdy wrought iron railing ran around and towards the front of the house for a few feet at the opening at the top of the steps and on either side was a door. Both of these led to Matt and Katherine's rooms, which took up the entire front of the house on the second floor.

  She entered the door to the right and paused, as

  always, remembering her thoughts the first time she'd stepped into this room. Good grief! you could play basketball in here. At that time she had stood in almost stunned awe. The room was huge. A corner room with four windows, two looking over the front lawn and drive and two on the side giving a view not only of their own flower garden but the gently rolling Pennsylvania countryside. The ceiling, one wall and the woodwork were white, the other three walls a deep chocolate-brown, her vanity and the double dressers honey-gold. The burnt orange of the carpet, draperies and bedspread was picked up in the coverings on the chaise lounge and big easy chair placed near the front windows, but the most imposing thing in the room was the bed. That was what had really stopped Katherine in her tracks that first time. Placed against the white wall, facing the front windows, it was easily ten feet by ten feet.

  For some odd reason it was Matt's bed, more than anything else, that brought home to Katherine the extent of his wealth. More then the large penthouse apartment in Philadelphia or this quiet country house, a short twenty-five-minute drive from the apartment. Or even the five cars he maintained. No, it was this custom-made bed with its specially ordered sheets and coverings, which she had later found out numbered over two dozen, that had seemed the height of luxury to Katherine.

  She moved into the room, walking to the medium-sized closet set in the wall to her left, used only for the odd items inside. Farther along this same wall was another door leading into a large white-and-gold tiled bathroom and off the other side of the bath, two smaller rooms, a walk-in closet dressing room where all Matt's

  and her own clothing and shoes were kept and next to this a small bedroom containing a single bed, dresser and a straight backed chair. The door from this room led back onto the wide landing.

  Katherine went through the bathroom to the dressing room, stripping off her shirt and bra as she walked. Dropping them in the big wicker hamper right inside the door, she kicked off her shoes and slid out of her slacks and pantyhose.

  After a quick shower she donned fresh bra and pantyhose, slid her slim feet into soft blue leather sandals and dropped a brilliant peacock-blue dress over her head. A swift light application of make-up and a vigorous brushing of short black curls and she left the room to go slowly down the curving stairs and into the exquisitely furnished, but cold looking, living room.

  happens?" came the smooth reply. "Do I get shot at dawn? Or just thrown out, bag and baggage, into the snow?"

  "What snow?"

  The twitch that Katherine was trying to control vanished at the sound of Matt's voice.

  He entered the room at his usual brisk stride, one eyebrow raised in amusement at Mary as he passed her on his way to the liquor cabinet. His expression changed, went cool, as Katherine hurriedly moved from the cabinet to sit beside Mary.

  How much of the conversation had he heard? she wondered.

  Mary played it light. "The snow everyone and his brother have been predicting we are going to get this winter. That's what snow."

  His reaction, if any, to this statement went unseen by the three women for he kept his back to them as he poured Michters over ice in a short squat glass then splashed in a small amount of club soda. His face was bland as he turned around, stirring the drink by moving his hand in a slow, circular motion. He lifted the glass and took a long swallow, then slowly lowered it, his eyes going first to Beth, then Katherine and finally Mary before murmuring, "I see."

  At that moment his housekeeper, Mrs. Rapp, appeared in the doorway. "Dinner, sir."

  Matt nodded briefly. 'Thank you." His eyes again went to each of the women before saying coolly, "Ladies."

  He moved to Katherine's side as she stood up, his hand cupping her elbow lightly to escort her, as always when he was home for dinner, into the small dining room across the hall.

  A larger, stiffly formal dining room adjoined the

  living room, but Katherine much preferred this small room that was used when the family dined alone.

  Katherine was glad to sink onto the chair Matt held for her for his nearness was playing havoc with her breathing and causing a decided weakness in her legs. He paused a moment behind her, then moved around the table to hold a chair for Beth, who was showing signs of growing impatience.

  Mary, forever informal, had seated herself, then looked at Matt as he sat down and said, "James not in to dinner this evening?"

  Before Matt could reply, James' light, teasing voice preceded him into the room. "James is in to dinner, Mary, love."

  He sauntered into the room, tall and slim and handsome, and sat down next to Beth, the resemblance between the two almost startling.

  "Hello, everyone."

  His gaze started with Beth, lingered on Katherine, touched Mary and stopped at Matt. The seconds ticked by silently as Matt's eyes, steady, unreadable, held his.

  The only resemblance here was the rich auburn hair, which James wore long, curling at the collar. For although he stood over six feet tall, Matt's large, almost rawboned frame dwarfed James' finer one in comparison.

  Eight years separated the brothers, yet James, with his easy-going good-natured personality, seemed much younger.

  James finally broke the suddenly uneasy silence, "You get all your messages?" Matt nodded "yes" and turned to smile at Mrs. Rapp who had entered the room to serve dinner.

  Conversation was minimal during the meal, being confined mostly to the banter thrown back and forth between James and Mary.

  Katherine was feeling nervous and uneasy, as Matt had remained silent throughout the meal. Preoccupied with her unwanted thoughts and longing for dinner to end so she could escape Matt's eyes, she looked up startled when Beth said quietly, "Matt, I hope you don't mind, I've invited
a guest to the house for a visit." Before Matt could answer, James said, "Who?" Beth glanced at him quickly but her eyes went back to Matt before she answered. "DeDe."

  "Oh God!" James gave a mock groan. "How long must we put up with her?"

  "Very funny," snapped Beth, not even bothering to look at him, then her softening voice went on, "You won't mind, will you, Matt? I haven't see DeDe in ages, and as she's on her way home from Europe, I'd like to have her stay awhile before going on to California."

  "Why should I mind?" Matt's voice was indifferent. "You know you may have anyone you wish stay here, as long as you remember my study is off-limits."

  "Of course," Beth purred. But something about her self-satisfied expression caused a twinge of apprehensions in Katherine. DeDe?

  Katherine and Mary exchanged puzzled looks, and seeing the exchange James offered, "DeDe is Miss Diedre Halstead, an old school friend of Beth's. She's all right, I guess, if you can stand giddy females."

  "You really are exasperating this evening, James," Beth said coldly. "You know very well DeDe is my best friend and she is not a giddy female. She is, in fact, one of the most sophisticated women I know."

  "Heaven protect me from all sophisticated women," he chided.

  Beth was about to retort when Matt cut in smoothly. "That's enough, Jim. He's only teasing, Beth. You know we both like DeDe."

  Beth subsided against her chair, a small pout on her lips. "I know," came the almost sarcastic reply. Both James and Katherine looked up sharply. She sounded angry with James and Katherine wondered why.

  Matt finished his coffee and stood up abruptly. "If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make." And as he turned to leave Beth stood also. "I have to leave, too. I'm meeting Charles at the Carsons' to play bridge."

  The Carsons were their nearest neighbors two miles farther along the black topped road at the end of the driveway. Charles Davis was one of Beth's admirers.