He sighed; he might never feel for anyone else the way he had felt about Farrah. That kind of intensity was only endemic to the young and foolish and try as he might, he couldn't duplicate it in any of his adult relationships. He couldn't do it for Bobbie-Ann, though he had really tried hard. Who knew that love couldn't be conjured up in the kind of intensity you wanted at the drop of a hat?
He also knew that thinking about Farrah now was fruitless. She was getting married to Jason Cavendish, a guy from a family that was just as powerful as Farrah's. She was probably deliriously happy planning her wedding now. He was glad that he had not been around to witness her fall in love with Jason, or any other man, for that matter. He would have been madly jealous, or even driven to insanity.
Seeing her with that sparkling diamond on her finger gave him a weird, uncomfortable feeling, but he didn't want to put a name to that feeling. He wouldn't call it jealousy, or even sadness… He would show up at her engagement party because she had invited him and convince himself that he was happy for her.
He dialed the real estate brokers number and a chirpy voice answered.
"Mr. Bell! I was just about to call you. I have three properties for you to view today. Do you have the time?"
"Yes," Xavier said. He looked around the house. He had nothing but time and he was anxious to see what the agent planned to show him.
Chapter Two
Farrah drove home after her meeting with Ruby and Cynth. She did not expect it to be as productive as it was, mainly because Ruby had just given birth and she had anticipated that Ruby would be weak or something. She hadn't been around women who had just given birth to know how they would be, but she was surprised to find that Ruby and Cynth were very professional and that she was the one who was distracted. She had been thinking of Xavier and his indifference to her, how handsome he was now, how she had behaved in the past. Her thoughts were a tangle of guilt and apprehension.
She had been so distracted that Ruby had to ask her some questions more than once. Farrah even volunteered her parent's house for the engagement party when it was suggested, and she hadn't even asked them. She didn't think it was going to be a problem, though. They had huge parties at the house all the time. Besides, this party was at her father's request, so she was sure having the party there wouldn't be a problem. She was beginning to think of her impending marriage as her father's instead of hers.
She got out of the car and looked up at the sprawling ten-bedroom place. It was set on five acres of prime real estate with a 180-degree view of the ocean. The view always managed to impress even the most well-traveled visitor.
She had grown up here but didn't see what the big deal was about; it was just a sea view. It never changed much. Though it was mostly blue, it vacillated between shades of blue and green. She stood at the balustrades, trying to appreciate the view, but she had always taken her luxurious surroundings for granted because she didn't know anything else and maybe deep inside she was too unhappy to care.
She took off her shoes and pushed her feet into a pair of flats. She definitely could not walk in her Jimmy Choos over the cobblestone walk that led to the front door.
She was surprised to see Jason and his father Earl heading through the hallway when she stepped in.
"Ah, Farrah, my favorite girl," Earl said jovially. "How are you doing?" He was a tall, imposing guy with a lean face, aquiline nose and a pleasant smile.
"I am fabulous," Farrah said lightly. She looked over at Jason, who was smiling at her as well.
"You look gorgeous as usual," he said, bending down to give her a kiss on both her cheeks.
"Thank you," Farrah responded to her future groom politely and with a lot less pleasure than she had extended to his father. She was curious as to why they were at the house.
She looked between the two of them. "So where are you rushing off to? Can't you both stay and have a drink?" So that I can find out what's really going on, she thought.
Earl shook his head and looked at his watch impatiently. "I can't stop, I am afraid. I have an urgent board meeting."
"I can't either." Jason squeezed her hand. "I have to attend this board meeting too. I will call you later."
Farrah nodded and watched as the two men walked toward the front door. Earl was talking to Jason rapidly, and he was nodding. Jason looked back at her. His smile had gone and he stared at her solemnly before swinging his head back around as his father propelled him through the door.
Farrah raised her eyebrow, staring at them even after the heavy front door closed. Where Jason had held her hand felt cold. She rubbed it subconsciously, not realizing what she was doing.
Why was she getting married to this guy at all? She certainly didn't know him that well, not the way a prospective wife should know a husband. Over the years they had known each other casually. They had attended the same parties and had mutual friends, but she had nothing much in common with Jason. She had not even remotely thought about him in a romantic way, even though her friends, Kate and Darla, certainly had.
They were the first ones to alert her to the fact that Jason was interested in her. To her he was just Jason Cavendish, the ultra-urbane, extremely confident oldest son and heir to the Cavendish fortune. They were manufacturers of some repute. His interest in her had coincided with her father's interest in the Cavendish company.
Though she had found it strange that her father had pushed her toward Jason, she had been over the moon that her father was suddenly interested in her and wanted to know what she was doing with her days, and how she was. For the first time in years her dad was treating her with undivided attention and she had gone along with dating Jason, even though she had the unsettling thought that she shouldn't.
Though they had gone on dates to the best restaurants and even went on a vacation to one of her father's hotels in the Turks and Caicos, she felt no spark between them.
She knew that she should not have time to be thinking about the next pair of shoes that she wanted to buy while kissing a guy—most alarmingly, she had no interest in having sex with him. She wasn't even tempted. Her excuse that they wait until they were married was surprisingly well-accepted by Jason, who had somewhat of a guy about town reputation. She was relieved that he was not interested, either. Her girlfriends would have a field day if they found out that she was actually going to have the right to wear the filmy white dress that she had chosen for her wedding.
"Why are you standing in the hallway like a deer caught in headlights?" her father said behind her gruffly. "Get in here, girl."
Farrah spun around. He was indicating for her to follow him to his office.
She walked into the airy space. Everything was white, with only a splash of apple green accents. Her father sat behind his desk and she sat in the comfortable white short sofa that was across from the desk.
"So how is the planning for the engagement party going?" he asked, cupping his chin. Her father was sixty-seven and already he had some age spots dotted around his forehead. Her mother liked to say that it was hard living and too much smoking that was causing the age spots.
Farrah gazed at him and wondered what would happen if she told him that she was not sure that she should be marrying Jason.
She took the coward's way out. She didn't want to upset him. "Er... it is going fine. I thought we should do it here, at the house. I have two hundred people on my guest list."
Her father grunted. "That's fine. You should only invite your uncles and their current wives."
"But I wanted to invite Aunt Marlene," she said referring to her Uncle Art's first wife, who she really liked. He had traded in Marlene for a younger version two years ago.
Both her uncles, Art and Joe had remarried; their older wives were unceremoniously dumped, almost at the same time.
Her father couldn't try the same thing as her uncles, though, because her mother, a shrewd, hard-as-nails businesswoman, had shares in the company. Besides, both her parents seemed to love each other in a weird way.
Her father, as gruff and tough and work-hardened as he was, had one soft spot and that was reserved for his wife. There was absolutely nothing left over for his four offspring—not for his older sons, nor grandchildren, nor his first daughter, Vicky, and definitely not for Farrah.
When Farrah was growing up it was a hard pill for her to swallow. Her constant thought was that if her own father didn't love her, then who would?
She looked at him now; he was swinging casually in his chair. "You can invite Marlene," he conceded. "She doesn't say much, does she? Esther, on the other hand, is a handful."
Farrah nodded, though she didn't agree. Aunt Esther was heartbroken when Joe suddenly requested a divorce, because she had genuinely loved her husband. Marlene didn't say much to the wrong ears but she hadn't been particularly sorry to see her husband go for a younger woman. Her Aunt Marlene was mainly concerned about her charities and her grandchildren.
Farrah marveled, though, that her father was talking to her in this manner, as if she was a friend. She had always wanted to come to his office just to talk; now he was the one seeking her out.
Her two older brothers were already married. Her older sister, Victoria, herself a doctor, had married a fellow doctor. She knew that her father hadn't taken such a keen interest in any of her siblings getting married.
As a matter of fact, he didn't show up at Vicky's wedding because he claimed that he had forgotten about it. He was away on business and Vicky's husband was a nobody in his eyes, just a mere doctor with no prestigious family name.
She felt special and apprehensive at the same time. Hadn't she worked all her life to be doing just this? But the thought, which had niggled at the back of her mind for the past year of her engagement, persisted. What was in this marriage for him?
Kingsley Knight didn't do anything without some business benefit, and that visit from Jason and his father today must have some business link.
She watched his face closely as he smiled with her, an almost proud look on his face. Her father was a mixed race man and as he liked to joke, he was mixed with a touch of everything. Right now his brown curly hair was thinning out at the front but he still had a handsome look to him and he was acting fatherly, something she rarely saw even when she was a child. For her there were no fond memories of her dad doing anything fatherly with her.
"Dad," she said hesitantly, "I don't love Jason." Her voice was a plea for understanding. Her father had told her last year when she broached the topic of not loving Jason that by this year she would love him when she saw how wonderful he was.
Her father's smile turned into a frown. He furrowed his brow. "This is nonsense talk, my pet. It's the marriages that don't start out with love that last. I should know. I am still with your mother, aren't I?"
He shut down the topic as abruptly as she had started it and she saw him shrug into his invisible business persona. "Be a good girl and don’t let emotions color your views." He gave her a dismissive look.
Farrah stood up, really wanting to get back that appreciative fatherly benediction again. "Okay, Dad. You are right, as usual."
Her father gave her a pleased half-smile. "Now be a good girl and plan that engagement party; make it good. Remember to invite the minister of tourism."
"Yes." Farrah nodded despondently. Her party list was made up mostly of her father's business friends and associates. Half of the people on the guest list she had never met.
When she stepped out of the office she felt a darkness so pressing that she headed for the back courtyard, her place of solace. When she felt lonely and left out as a child in this vast household of uncaring people she used to play tea in the courtyard, and Xavier would sit and listen to her prattle on and on about her miserable life.
Her mother would allow him in the back courtyard because she deemed him helpless because he looked so pathetic. If her mother could see how different he was, she definitely wouldn't think so now. Farrah sat around her favorite circular stone table. The scent of the rose bushes nearby enveloped her in their subtle sweet scents.
She breathed out a loud shuddering quiver and forced herself to relax. She could never relax around her father and leaving his presence was like releasing herself from prison.
She cupped her head in her hands. What was she going to do about this whole marriage mess?
"It can't be that bad," Vicky said, sitting down across from her.
"Hi Vicks," Farrah said fondly. "What are you doing here?"
"I was looking for you, actually," Vicky said. "You sent me a text earlier saying that you have changed the wedding date to August 7. That's quite a step up from December 25. I thought you were going to give me a chance to get a wee bit slimmer so that I can look good in the pictures."
"Dad changed the date," Farrah said sullenly. "I am just going along with it."
Vicky closed her hand over hers. "You don't have to go along with anything that Dad says. What does he know? He's just a megalomaniac with an empire and he is using you to add to that empire."
"I figured that out," Farrah said, "but I don't want to disappoint Dad. He really seems to want this marriage."
"Do you love Jason?"
"No," Farrah breathed jerkily. "No, I don't. I don't even know if I like him. Six months ago when we went on that vacation to Turks to get to know each other better he spent all his time on the phone. He claimed that he was knee-deep in some business crisis or the other."
"Then don't marry him," Vicky said. Her kindly brown eyes were concerned. "You know, Dad tried to pull this same stunt with me."
"Seriously?" Farrah shook her head. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"
"Yup, don't believe you are the first to battle Dad over the same issue. Except that the family he chose as the potential in-laws were not too impressed with the 'Knighthood'." Vicky laughed, referring to the nickname that was given to her father and his brothers. "And I was not the type of girl to want to please my father, anyway."
"I know," Farrah said. "You got married to Richard, who had student loans and didn't have a dime to rub together. Dad went around crowing for days that you would soon come back home begging him for money."
"And to date we are as happy as a sunny day in January," Vicky added. "This year will be four years and we did pay off those loans and we do live comfortably and I am so happy not to have the name Knight as a surname. Defy him, Farrah. Strike out on your own. You are twenty-seven years old. You shouldn't be living here with your parents, allowing your father to play Russian roulette with your life."
"I didn't go to college like you did," Farrah said. "What would I strike out and do? I am not good at anything, except partying."
Vicky sighed. This was not the first time they were having this conversation. For years she had been urging her sister to do something worthwhile with her life. She and Farrah were like chalk and cheese. Though Farrah was younger than her by eight years, and had the same parents, it felt as if they came from completely different universes.
They even looked different. Vicky was short and tended to put on weight at the drop of a hat. Farrah was tall and modelesque. She had inherited her father's dark olive complexion; Farrah had more of a bronze complexion and had long, thick, and wavy hair. She didn't know whom she had gotten her thin limp hair from, but compared to Farrah's luxurious strands, hers were pathetic.
Besides their obvious physical differences, they had vastly different growing up years. Vicky spent most of her early teen years at boarding school in another parish, where no one really knew who she was, and she loved that. If she had stayed here in Mobay she would have been revered, fawned on by sycophantic acquaintances just because her father had money. When she was at boarding school she could pretend to be someone else and that was where she explored her ambitions to be a doctor. She had gone off to college as soon as she finished high school.
Farrah had stayed at home, where she became known as a society party girl, until she was in her late teens. Her sister was constantly in the nationa
l newspapers in the society pages.
Nobody really knew that Kingsley Knight, the hotel magnate, and Gloria Knight, the shrewd business owner of over twelve different world-class spas, had another daughter and she liked it that way. She was quite happy being outside the limelight.
She could feel her sister's pain, though. This situation was somewhat feudal if you thought about it. Her sister had a rich father who was handing her off to a suitable rich husband, and Farrah would be a dutiful rich wife just as she had been a dutiful rich daughter. It all seemed so pointless and empty.
Vicky squeezed her sister's arm one more time before she got up.
Farrah's face looked confused and unhappy. She wished she could do something to help her.
"Don't do it," she whispered in Farrah's ear before she took her leave, "but if you decide that you absolutely must get married, I will be your matron of honor, of course. Text me and let me know when to come for fittings for the dress."
Farrah nodded in her direction but she still had her head in her hands when Vicky looked back.
Chapter Three
"Are you sure that this is the right place?" Carson asked Xavier doubtfully. He stopped at the very top of a hill after driving along a track that was overgrown with weeds. He stared at a house built from logs, which was standing in the clearing like an abandoned child. "You bought this yesterday?"
"Yes, I did," Xavier said, a satisfied smile on his face as he looked at the overgrown lawn, the neglected two-bedroom house and the vast expanse of undergrowth.
"Let me get this straight," Carson murmured. "You are going to live here, in that dilapidated house?"
"Yes," Xavier said wearily. "It's not that bad, just needs some love and attention, and the land is really nice. Couldn't you see the view when driving up?"
Xavier stepped out of the vehicle and spun around in a clear green spot. "It is five acres of property. It has all sorts of fruit trees. The house will eventually have to go but for the time being I can make it habitable. I can't wait to get my hands dirty."
Tangled Chords Page 2
