Family Secrets

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  * * *

  Ivy made her way downstairs to the music room. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass panels, it overlooked terraced gardens that Ivy remembered as being a riot of spring color. As she entered, Gertrude and Caine, deep in conversation, looked up. Their talk ceased abruptly.

  Embarrassed, Ivy paused in the doorway. “I see I’m early. If you’d like me to wait...”

  “No. Come in. Caine was just going to fix us a drink. What would you like?”

  She hesitated a moment longer, then took several steps into the room. “Wine. Something dry and red if you have it.” She recalled the way Aunt Tru’s favorite whiskey had burned. She’d rather not chance it again.

  “And I’ll have my usual,” Gertrude said. Her gaze skimmed Ivy’s dress. “I approve. Much better than those awful jeans.”

  From his vantage point at the bar, Caine studied the slender figure. Her dress of red Chinese silk had a mandarin collar and long, tapered sleeves. The exquisite fabric molded itself to the curves of her softly rounded breasts and hips, then fell in a straight sheath to below her knees. Except for black frog closings, it was unadorned. When she walked, the slits on either side of the skirt revealed an expanse of leg nearly to the thigh.

  Ivy had swept her hair back on one side and fastened it with pearl combs. It cascaded over one shoulder in a stream of soft curls.

  She glanced up to see Caine studying her and felt a blush warm her skin. Immediately, she looked away.

  Caine paused in his work. She had a walk that was just shy of being sinful. Almost too beautiful to be real, she belonged on canvas for the whole world to admire. No model on a magazine cover had ever been as lovely to look at.

  He handed his aunt a crystal tumbler of whiskey. Ivy watched the way he moved. So sleek and sure of himself. The dark suit accentuated his dark hair and eyes. Even the perfectly tailored jacket couldn’t camouflage the muscles of his arms. When he handed Ivy a tulip glass of wine, their eyes met. If someone spoke, she wasn’t aware of it. She knew only that his look was as intimate as a touch. His gaze moved to her mouth and her lips grew warm.

  She sipped the wine, cool and dry, and felt her senses sharpen. She needed to walk, talk, do anything to break his hold on her.

  She walked to the wall of glass and stared at the freshly turned earth.

  “Who does your gardening now, Aunt Tru?”

  “We have a lawn and landscape service. They’re not nearly as good as your father.”

  “That’s because he loved this place. His work made him so happy.”

  Gertrude studied her over the rim of her glass. “He did love it here, didn’t he?”

  Ivy nodded. “When he was injured in that accident and lost his job in the city, it was the low point of his life. But coming back here to his roots was the high point. He said that returning to this land was better than a cure.”

  Gertrude’s tone sharpened. “It’s a pity your mother didn’t share his opinion of us.”

  Caine watched Ivy’s chin lift defiantly.

  “She preferred the city.” Ivy looked away and said nothing more in her mother’s defense. It was no secret that her mother had resented coming back here. She considered being the wife of a gardener beneath her.

  Gertrude sighed. “All the old ways seem to be dying.”

  Ivy searched her mind for a subject that would cheer the old woman. “Have they planted all the spring flowers you always loved? Tulips, crocus, daffodils?”

  Gertrude’s voice warmed. “And those little grape hyacinths. How I love them. Yes, they should all be blooming in a few weeks.”

  Caine walked to the window to stand beside Ivy. “Did you know you’re wearing two different earrings?” He smiled and touched an ebony disk from which several strands of jet beads dangled. In her other earlobe was an earring of shimmering opals.

  “I couldn’t decide which one I liked best. So I wore one of each.”

  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who would do that.”

  Suddenly self-conscious, she turned away. Her eyes fastened on the painting over the mantel and she let out a little gasp of surprise.

  “Aunt Tru. When did you buy that?”

  The old woman smiled. “I wondered when you’d notice. Caine told me about it when he saw your exhibit.”

  Ivy turned wide eyes to him. “You were there? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was only in New York for a day, then right out again. There was no time.”

  Ivy walked closer to the fireplace and gazed up at her painting. “It’s a scene from the hill behind the house, overlooking the lake. I must have sat and stared at that site a thousand times while I was growing up here. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Mine too,” Aunt Tru said. “When Caine phoned and told me about the painting, I asked him to buy it for me.”

  “You recognized it?” Ivy asked him.

  “I grew up here, too, remember?”

  She laughed, and he saw the light that had come into her eyes. If possible, she looked even softer, prettier, when she was laughing.

  “Miss St. Martin, your nephew, Darren,” Chester announced from the doorway.

  “Well, here you all are.”

  “Darren.” The old woman beamed. “I wondered when you’d come down.”

  “Sorry. I fell asleep. How are you, Aunt Gertrude?” Darren crossed the room and bent to press his lips to her cheek.

  “Oh, let me look at you.”

  Darren St. Martin’s hair and skin had been kissed by the California sun. Even his hazel eyes looked golden. His suit bore the unmistakable touch of European tailors and his shirt, tie and Italian leather shoes were impeccable. As usual, he cut a dazzling figure. As he leaned over his aunt, Ivy could see why women were attracted to him—but they were always the wrong kind of women.

  Darren turned to Caine. “Hi, big brother. I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you were designing an office building or something in Arizona.”

  Caine smiled and held out his hand. “I was. An office building or something,” he mocked. “It’s finished now. I’m back home for a while until my next project.”

  “I can’t keep track of all your jobs anymore. I guess there’s no rest for the workaholics of this life. You won’t find me killing myself with schedules. I’ve found my niche in life. After watching all those playboys, I’ve decided that there has to be a better way than living from one paycheck to the other. That reminds me, big brother. I’ll have to hit you for a little loan. Just till I get on my feet. Wives are expensive these days. Especially if they’re actresses. I think their first lesson is how to find the most expensive stores in town.”

  Caine lowered his voice. “No problem, Darren. Just let me know how much you need.”

  “Thanks, big brother. What would I do without you?”

  Caine gave a wry laugh. “Probably get a job.”

  “Or rob a bank.”

  Darren turned and at that moment caught sight of Ivy standing near the fireplace. “Ivy, is that you?” He rushed to catch her hand. “You look wonderful.”

  “Hello, Darren. It’s been too long.”

  “It certainly has. I can tell that city life agrees with you. You’re looking gorgeous.”

  As Darren enveloped her in a warm embrace, she smiled up into his face and accepted his kiss. His cologne was an expensive French mixture that she recognized.

  “What happened to that drugstore after-shave you used to splash on?” she teased.

  “I’ve outgrown it. I’m a sophisticated man of the world now. I need something that becomes my stature.”

  “Yuck.”

  “Yuck? Women don’t say things like that to us worldly types.”

  Caine turned away from them and walked to the bar. He surprised himself by pouring a second drink. Why did the friendly banter between his brother and Ivy bother him? It couldn’t be jealousy. He had never been jealous of his younger brother. Protective maybe. Always willing to overlook Darren’s lapses. But ne
ver jealous. Besides, Ivy Murdock meant nothing to him. So why this twinge? He fought to dismiss the thought. Maybe what really bothered him was the fact that Ivy was so warm and touching with everyone except him. She had practically fallen into Darren’s arms. Yet she always seemed to be on guard in Caine’s presence. Of course, he could hardly blame her. He’d given her a pretty rough reception. He always seemed a little too grim, a bit too angry in her presence.

  Through narrowed eyes he studied Ivy and Darren. They were two of a kind—both beautiful people. He couldn’t deny that they made a handsome couple. Darren’s blond good looks were the perfect foil for Ivy’s dark loveliness.

  “Oh, isn’t this nice? We’re all together again. Just like old times. Darren, come and tell me what you’ve been doing.” Gertrude patted the sofa. “Of course we’ve read about the separation.”

  He nodded as he took a seat beside his aunt. “We managed to make the headlines.”

  “Is it true, that Melanie has gone off on that actor’s yacht?”

  Darren gave a mirthless laugh. “Yes. But it won’t last. She’ll come back to me. Melanie made it plain that she craves adventure, excitement and lots of money. As soon as I’m solvent, I’ll have my little wife back at my side.”

  Gertrude touched his arm sympathetically. “I know this is a painful time for you, Darren. But when it’s resolved, you’ll find you’ve come out of this stronger than ever.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you going to give me that old lecture about steel being forged in fire? I’m not steel, Aunt Gertrude. I’m a man. And I’ve just been burned.”

  The old woman’s voice lowered. “But you’ll survive, Darren. And be stronger for it. After all, you’re a St. Martin.”

  He stood and crossed the room, staring down at the flames of the fireplace. “No I’m not, Aunt Gertrude. You’re a St. Martin. You act like you’ve never made a mistake. And Caine.” He nodded at his brother.

  “Caine’s a St. Martin. The two of you are too good to ever make a mistake like mine.”

  “We’ve all made them, Darren,” Gertrude’s voice soothed.

  “Have you?” His tone suddenly hardened. “Did your past make you stronger?”

  Gertrude froze.

  Caine snapped to attention at his brother’s sharply issued words.

  At the stunned look on his aunt’s face, Darren turned away. “And what about old Caine there? Always the perfect example for a younger brother. Maybe I’ll take a lesson from him and start living a Spartan existence.”

  “Darren.” Gertrude forced her voice to remain even. “I know you have a right to a certain amount of self-pity. But come over here and talk. We’re family. We’re always on your side. We want you to work things out.”

  At her soothing tone, he looked repentant. While he sat beside her, Ivy walked to the bar, where she set down her glass. Then she crossed to the window to look up at the stars that were just becoming visible in the slowly darkening night sky. Caine took her glass, refilled it and stood beside her.

  “Thank you.”

  The scent of her perfume was intoxicating. Caine found himself drawn to her.

  For once she was grateful for Caine’s silence. She didn’t want to make small talk. She wanted to sort out her thoughts. Maybe every family had to struggle through the pain of misunderstanding and bruised egos. Poor Darren. She could feel the pain he was feeling. She wondered if it were possible for a woman like Gertrude St. Martin, a spinster, a woman blessed with both good health and excellent finances, to understand what Darren was going through. And what about Caine? Was he as perfect as Darren painted him?

  Despite Darren’s problems, she was glad now she had accepted Aunt Tru’s invitation. She’d needed to return to her roots again. She’d almost forgotten how peaceful it was here. The fast pace of the city was catching up with her. Maybe that was what had happened to Darren as well. Life in the fast lane could be deadly.

  ‘Penny for them.”

  She started. “Sorry.” She turned to Caine. “I was off in space. I seem to do that a lot.”

  “Artists can get away with it. People just think you’re creating your next masterpiece in your mind.” He winked. “Architects, too. When I drift off, my staff thinks I’m designing a monument.”

  She laughed. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

  “Not at all.” He grinned. “Once in a while I am designing something. But most of the time I’m just drifting.”

  She turned to give him her full attention. “You don’t look like the sort who drifts. In anything. You’re so solid, Caine. I think you could take the whole world’s problems and charge through life solving them.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” His smile faded. “Right now, though, I’d settle for solving just one or two problems.”

  Ivy glanced at the old woman, her head bent toward the blond one beside her on the sofa. “You don’t believe the doctor, do you? It wasn’t just a simple fainting spell. It was that terrible letter.”

  He stared at the amber liquid in his glass, then shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Did you notice that the letter was mailed in New York City?”

  Caine’s lips thinned. He remained silent.

  “Why won’t you talk about it?” she asked.

  “Because it has nothing to do with you, Ivy. Unless you wrote it.”

  She turned away, stung by his words. Every time she thought they were beginning to relax with each other, something happened to remind her to keep her distance. Chester’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and the conversation around her stopped as everyone looked up.

  “Miss St. Martin, Judge Jacob Tisdale and Mr. David Tisdale.”

  A young man in a dark business suit stepped past Chester, then paused in the doorway. Beside him, leaning heavily on a cane, stood an old man with white hair and a trim, white mustache.

  “Ah. Jacob and David. I wondered what’s been keeping you,” Gertrude exclaimed, welcoming the newcomers.

  The younger man hurried across the room to catch Gertrude’s hand. “Miss St. Martin. I’m sorry for the delay. I’m afraid I’ve been on the phone for hours. Every time I leave my office, they track me down. I’ve been swamped with work.”

  The older man followed slowly. With elegant, old-fashioned manners, he bowed slightly and touched Gertrude’s hand to his lips before settling down heavily beside her on the sofa.

  “I think you know everyone here except Ivy.” Gertrude turned. “Ivy, come meet Judge Jacob Tisdale, and his grandson, David Tisdale, my lawyer.”

  The younger man was lean to the point of being frail. His double-breasted pin-striped suit accentuated his thin frame. His hair was light, but lacked the golden luster of Darren’s. With his fair complexion, his blond eyebrows seemed almost nonexistent.

  Ivy extended her hand, and stared into pale blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His smile was pleasant, his handshake firm.

  “Hello, David. Though we’ve never met, I’m familiar with your family name.”

  “And I’ve heard of you as well. Our families go back a long way. You probably know my grandfather.” He indicated the older man beside Gertrude.

  Ivy turned and accepted Jacob’s outstretched hand.

  The old man studied her carefully, as if searching for some sign of recognition. “William and Diana’s daughter?”

  She nodded.

  “The artist,” he said simply.

  “And a fine one,” Gertrude interjected proudly. “You should have read her reviews, Jacob.”

  “I did. You showed them to me three times, Gertrude.”

  Ivy blushed with pleasure and noticed Caine watching her as he poured drinks at the bar. She turned her attention back to Jacob’s grandson.

  “It’s nice that you can work with your grandfather.”

  “It’s been taken for granted that I’d go in the family law firm ever since I was born. I’m the fourth generation to go into law in this county,” David said.
>
  His eyes, Ivy noted, didn’t look happy.

  “And Ivy is the third generation to grow up on the St. Martin estate,” Gertrude explained with a smile.

  “I know.” David seemed mesmerized by her beauty. His pale eyes studied her with keen interest. “Your father had quite a green thumb.”

  “He was the St. Martin gardener. We lived in the cottage, by the gate house.”

  He nodded. “I know of it. It’s been empty for quite a while, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes. I’m living in New York City now.”

  “You must find it chaotic after living here.”

  She saw Caine watching her and smiled. “I’ve adjusted.”

  David looked hopeful. “Maybe I could show you around while you’re visiting Miss St. Martin.”

  She avoided Caine’s mocking eyes as he handed David a drink. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

  Ivy was aware that the older man was studying her carefully while she spoke. He seemed intrigued by her. She turned to include him in the conversation. To her discomfort, he continued to stare in silence.

  “I’m sorry I was out walking when you arrived, Jacob,” Gertrude said, interrupting his thoughts. “I understand you’ve been in New York City.”

  He nodded. “Damnable trip. I prefer to stay here as much as I can, but business often dictates otherwise.”

  “I thought you had finally agreed to retire and allow David to run the business.”

  He sighed. “More or less. But there are still so many things I’ve handled for years for my clients, and I feel reluctant to allow young David to take over.”

  “Including the finances,” Gertrude said knowingly.

  Ivy smiled at his phrase “young David.” Did the old ever allow the young to feel completely in charge?

  Gertrude stood, and the older man rose with her. She looped her arm through Jacob Tisdale’s. “You look refreshed. Did you sleep?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, it’s time for dinner. You can sit beside me and tell me all about what’s been happening in the big city.”

  With a broad smile, he escorted her to the dining room.

  Darren and David Tisdale trailed behind them, carrying on a muted conversation.

  Ivy glanced at Caine. “Maybe we should start a romance between your aunt and her counselor. Don’t you think they make a lovely couple?”

  He gave her a bland look and offered her his arm. “I don’t think Trudy is the marrying kind. None of the St. Martins are. But the Tisdales, on the other hand, are very big on marriage.”

  She stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I got the impression that young Tisdale would like to start something with you.”

  He saw the flash of fire in her eyes. “Don’t be silly. We were simply making small talk.”

  “You didn’t see David’s heart? It was right there on his sleeve.”

  “Stop teasing, Caine.”

  He paused, feeling the touch of silk against his arm. “You’ve managed to enchant every man in the room, and you claim not to have noticed. Not too sharp, Weed.”

  He stared down at her, loving the way she blushed when she was angry. “Come on. Let’s join the others for dinner.”

  With a laugh, she tucked her hand in his arm. “You’ve managed to distract me for the time being. You just said the magic word. Food. I’m famished.”

  He felt the warmth of her touch and turned his face to inhale the fragrance that lingered, even in her hair.

  “Good. I like a woman with a healthy appetite.”

  “Mine’s beyond healthy. It’s absolutely disgusting.”

  He gave his best imitation of a leer. “That’s even better.”