by Janet Dailey
“Oh.”
“But he’s okay mentally. He gave me directions that were right—Linc let me double-check them online. Montgomery made sure I knew the way.”
Bannon wasn’t so sure that was all they’d talked about. “Okay. But did you tell him—”
“Not about that. Not a word. He’s recovering from a stroke, Bannon. Why would I?”
He drew in a breath, regretting his question. “Ah, I didn’t mean to imply—”
Her troubled eyes met his concerned gaze. “He sounded so different. Kind of shaky. Bannon—”
“What?” He knew that she might experience another delayed reaction to what he’d told her at any time. Especially if she went to see Montgomery. He hadn’t thought of that in time to say something when he’d pulled over.
“When I spoke to him, it hit me that now I know what he went through.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“When he saw that broadcast—and you talking about his daughter—something must have snapped.”
“What are you saying?”
The explanation came slowly. “For me and for him—what happened—that’s our life. Not a news story. Not a case.”
“I’m beginning to understand what you mean.”
“I don’t think you really can.”
Bannon sighed inwardly. She was right. “Give me credit for trying, Erin.”
“Fair enough.” She bit her lip and didn’t look at him. “The thing is, I have to stay with you. I mean, I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Not with you, not with anyone.”
“Got it.” He reached out to take her by the shoulders, but she stepped back. His hands dropped to his sides.
“Not now. I have to get going.”
“Right. What’s the plan?”
Erin smiled ruefully. “Cucumber sandwiches and tea in the solarium, from what he said.”
Bannon wasn’t sure what a solarium was, but he was positive Montgomery’s taste in refreshment ran more to bourbon and branch water. He caught himself. Not after a stroke.
“Is that okay with you?” Her tone was faintly needling and he realized he hadn’t answered.
“C’mon, Erin. I said it’s up to you. I just want to make sure you can deal with this.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said bluntly. “Just tell me why I’m still standing here. No, don’t.” She seemed agitated, as if new feelings, not happy ones, were taking over. “I have to leave. It feels like my head’s about to explode, what with—everything.”
“I can understand that.”
Erin opened the back door of her car and put what she was carrying on the backseat. She slammed the door shut and got into the driver’s seat, starting the car and unrolling the window. Granted, the day was warm, but he had a feeling she was doing it not to lose connection with him.
He stepped back a few feet as she backed out of the parking space, not wanting to get his toes run over. “My brother didn’t say anything obnoxious, I hope.”
“No. He’s a perfectly nice guy.” Her eyes shimmered and she braked abruptly. “I just need time to think. And you have to give me that.”
“Will do—you know that. But for your own safety, call me when you get to Montgomery’s and call me when you leave. And come back here. Damn it, Erin, if you don’t, I’m going out to that little house to get you. If I have to throw you over my shoulder, I will.”
Erin continued to back out, looking over her right shoulder and not at him. She stopped one more time. “Oh yeah. That. I have to call Jenny.”
“Who?”
“Jenny owns the house. I have to let her know I’m not going to be living there, right?”
With that, she made a sweeping reverse half-turn and zoomed out of the parking lot. Bannon looked after her as she drove off, rolling right through a stop sign.
Lost in thought, he jumped when an older lady spoke right beside him, looking up at him with brilliant blue eyes that contrasted with her white hair. “Lovers’ quarrel?” she asked kindly.
There was no need to fill her in on the details. “Something like that,” he replied. “Nothing serious.”
“Oh good.” She went on her way.
Bannon went back to his car and got in, draping both forearms over the steering wheel and resting his forehead on them. Had he done the right thing?
The answer was yes, but it was a tough, complicated yes.
There was no way he could’ve kept Erin in the dark for another day. And she might have accused him of playing hero if he’d told her about confronting Hoebel. He sure as hell didn’t want to scare her any more than she was already scared.
He was doing what he had to do: let her go and hope to God she’d come back.
Bannon wanted to follow her, but it was a little too late for that. He turned the key in the ignition and headed for Doris’s place.
Driving alone gave her a chance to think about him. She needed a distraction, badly. For the time it took her to get to Montgomery’s house, she was going to focus on something positive.
They’d had something good going before all this happened.
The long curves of the well-maintained old road soothed her restlessness. Her mind was racing and she forced herself to drive slowly.
Bannon. He might be the man of her dreams, but he had opened up the door to a nightmare. She’d had no idea that the man she’d met purely by chance at the art fair was going to turn her life upside down. Neither had he.
Despite everything, she knew she still wanted him in her life, whatever it was going to be from here on in. It had to do with how she felt when he was around. Good. Happy. She’d been surprised to discover that the beginning of a romance could be that uncomplicated.
The physical attraction was strong from the start. Besides being great-looking, he was built. She relaxed fractionally, remembering what it had been like to draw him—he had the body of a male model without the professional detachment. His self-consciousness at being under her gaze for as long as she liked had amused her. Covertly, she’d studied every inch of him.
She’d known she wanted him, pretended to be diffident. He’d seemed to see through that.
From the start, his genuine interest in her art and what she’d accomplished so far got right through her usual reserve around men. It hadn’t taken longer than a few hours in his company to figure out that she and Bannon had a few important things in common—the ability to observe the world around them in a unique way was one, their independence was another—but they were different enough to spark a fire that could burn bright.
Having him around her place those few times made the rented house feel like home for the first time. Seeing him come up the stairs with that long, easy swing to his stride, and a smile that said he could hardly wait to see her, was part of that feeling. Then, later, wallking over the fields in the golden late-afternoon sunlight like they’d been together forever—she could get used to that in a very good way. Just her and Bannon and a big dog, for starters. And that cat.
Nice dream. Wake up, she told herself.
The case was going to come between them. She had no way of stopping it. Erin’s hands tightened on the wheel. She loathed the idea that a past of which she knew nothing could cause someone she liked so much to look at her differently.
She just didn’t know. He didn’t seem to pity her. But he was suddenly cautious around her, like she might break if he said or did the wrong thing. Funny how all she wanted to do was go into his arms and stay there. But instead she’d kept her distance, stunned by what he was saying.
Thank God he’d stopped explaining when he noticed her silence. One more minute of it and she would have started to scream. He had his theories, the boxes were probably full of a thousand more, and she didn’t want to hear or read any of it.
Just hold me. She hadn’t said it. Later, yes, he had let her cry it out in his big, strong arms. But something was different. He was doing the right thing, he was that
kind of guy. That didn’t mean it was what he wanted to do.
A sickening tension clutched at her heart. So much for distracting herself. Erin bit her lip and clutched the wheel, driving on without really looking at the road. The hell with it. She was almost there.
On her way up the semicircular stairs to the front door, Erin took a deep breath. She didn’t know what she would do if Caroline opened it. Say that Mr. Montgomery was expecting her? Did the blonde even know she’d been invited?
She was relieved when a butler in a dark suit answered her knock. Erin bent down to pick up the sketchpad she’d leaned against her leg. The old tackle box clanked in her hand and only then did she realize how odd it must seem for a female guest to show up carrying that instead of a purse.
But the man smiled warmly at her. “I’ll let Mr. Montgomery know you’re here, Miss Randall. He’s been looking forward to your visit.”
“Thank you.” She entered and he shut the door with a quiet click, indicating by gesture that she was to follow him.
“Please come this way. And let me help you with your things.”
“Ah—” She couldn’t very well argue. Erin surrendered the tackle box. He took it carefully and carried it in the crook of his arm, as if she had entrusted him with a jeweled evening bag.
The house was impressive. She glanced up at a grand, curving staircase to the second floor. Evidently they weren’t going that way. Erin noticed vases half her height on either side of the open doorway they were about to pass through. Branches on the verge of flowering had been artistically arranged in them—a mix of white-budded cherry and coral-colored quince. A few of the blossoms had already opened.
“Very pretty,” she murmured to the butler.
He acknowledged her comment with a polite nod as they walked into the next room. On a mantel above a vast fireplace was a pair of smaller vases, holding long, slender stems covered with catkins. Erin stopped to touch one fuzzy bud with her finger. “Oh—pussywillows,” she said softly.
A slight smile appeared on the man’s otherwise impassive face when he stopped too and turned to her. She felt a bit embarrassed for sounding like a little girl. “Sorry. They’re irresistible. And they always were my favorite.”
“All our flowers are grown here,” he said in a friendly voice. “Mr. Montgomery wanted to recreate the gardens of the old house where he grew up. I hear they were glorious.”
Had she played under blooming shrubs there as a child? Her three-year-old self would have been nearly hidden. Maybe that was how she’d been abducted. A child’s unheard cry, a swirl of falling petals—gone before anyone noticed.
No. Bannon had said she’d been taken at night.
“It’s a beautiful place, but there are mostly lawns now. Not flowers. I’ve been there.”
The butler nodded and began to walk on. “Mr. Montgomery mentioned that you’d painted the mansion for the historical society. You’ll be meeting him in the solarium. There are more plants and whatnot in there. Some are quite rare.”
Erin mumbled an appreciative reply and adjusted the position of the sketchpad under her arm as she followed him. How big was this house? Despite the spectacular floral arrangements, the décor wasn’t very welcoming. Whoever had been in charge of it was partial to gold and silver brocade on the furniture and heavy window treatments that blocked a lot of the light.
The butler turned and paused on the threshold of a hallway that poured sunshine into the room they’d walked through. Her heart lifted.
For some reason, with Mr. Montgomery recovering from a stroke, she had imagined that he would be in a room with the shades drawn and thick carpets that muffled sound. Soothing, maybe, but also depressing. Erin just wanted to get through this without having to think about last night’s revelations or tears.
“The solarium is right this way,” the butler said, gesturing for her to follow him into the hallway.
A young woman in a loose cotton top over jeans waited for them at a double door made of multi-paned glass. One side was open, and through it Erin could see enormous plants and shrubs in pots and part of a wicker settee. The woman came forward.
“Hello,” she said to Erin, extending her hand. “I’m Vernette Adams, Mr. Montgomery’s nurse.”
“Nice to meet you.” They shook hands and for a moment all three of them just stood there.
“Ah—let me go ask about the refreshments,” the butler said. “This belongs to Miss Randall.” He handed the nurse the tackle box.
Vernette’s cheerful expression turned curious. “Are we going fishing?”
“No.” Erin laughed. “I keep my art things in it.”
“Oh. That’s great. I know Mr. Montgomery is eager to see the sketches.”
Erin patted the sketchpad under her arm. “Right here.”
“I got a tour of the stables the other day,” Vernette said, looking over her shoulder as Erin followed her into the solarium. “I don’t think I ever saw so many horses all at once.”
“It’s really interesting, isn’t it?” Erin said.
The nurse dropped her voice a little. “He loves it there, but he did get tired. That’s why we’re in here today.”
“This is a wonderful space.” Erin took in the view over rolling fields through the tall, floor-to-ceiling windows. The solarium seemed to run the length of the entire house. Though new, its design was reminiscent of a Victorian conservatory, and the butler had told the truth about all the plants. There had to be hundreds, arranged on open shelves of verdigris metal and sitting in handsome pots on the floor. The air had a fresh, loamy smell that revived her spirits.
Erin heard a deep but slightly shaky male voice call a hello from the far end of the room.
“Turn left at the tree fern,” the nurse said, brushing aside delicate fronds that seemed to want to enfold her and holding them back for Erin.
She dodged through, noticing the large fiddleheads at the center of the giant fern, curving up to the sun that streamed through the high windows.
Bracing himself on one arm of a wrought-iron bench, Montgomery rose to meet her.
“Please don’t get up,” Erin said quickly.
“Too late.” He was on his feet, holding out a hand to Erin.
She put down the sketchpad and took it, surprised by the strength and warmth of his grip. Then she realized that he was steadying himself by holding on to her hand. Vernette seemed to know it. She put the tackle box down on a table that matched the bench and took his arm.
“Feeling dizzy?” the nurse asked him.
“I’m fine. I can get up and down on my own.” He gave her a mock glare and rested a hand on the back of a chair. “Please have a seat, Erin.” He waited until she did to return to the bench and sit down himself, taking a deep breath as he settled in.
“Your good manners are going to kill you, Mr. Montgomery,” Vernette teased him. “All right. I’ll leave you two alone.”
She went off in a different direction, bypassing the tree fern. Erin wondered where Caroline was. But she wasn’t going to ask.
They made small talk until the butler appeared with a tray, which he set on the table, serving both of them bite-sized sandwiches and tea, then leaving them to it.
The thought of Montgomery being her father overshadowed her thoughts. She stole more than one sidelong look at him. That nose, that set to the jaw, the forehead—she didn’t see herself. Erin told herself to concentrate on something neutral. The food, for starters.
There really were cucumber sandwiches. She’d never had one. Live and learn. Erin picked one up and nibbled at it, liking what the flavor of the delicate cress and mayonnaise did for the plain slices of cucumber.
“Is there any roast beef?” Montgomery asked. “Aha. Yes. Mrs. Horsham insists on serving vegetables, but I refuse to starve.” He found what he wanted and devoured a small roast beef sandwich, then another.
Erin smiled politely. She was a stranger to all this and it all seemed unreal. Thinking while she ate another cucumber
sandwich, she decided it was only different from the way she’d been brought up. Not necessarily better, just different. She selected a thin carrot stick from a celery-carrot mix in a cut-crystal container, and bit into it. The humble carrot tasted exactly the same.
“You and Take All share a fondness for those.”
She smiled as she moved the tray of food and tea aside and picked up her sketchbook. “Yes, he did seem to get his share of treats from everyone. Your horses live well.”
“Especially him. So—let’s see what you have.”
She picked up her sketchbook and opened it, turning the large pages slowly until she found the drawings she’d liked best. Then she positioned the pad so he could view it easily.
“Here he is. In bits and pieces.”
Montgomery studied the unfinished sketches in silence, seeming very pleased. “These are wonderful, Erin. You have a great deal of talent.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you like them.”
“Very much.”
She showed him other drawings, including some that really were bits and pieces. A hoof. Two oval ears turned in different directions. Flowing strokes that captured a tail flicking at a horsefly.
“He has so much personality. I can draw him without looking at him.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” To prove her point, she opened the tackle box and took out charcoal and a kneaded eraser to sketch the magnificent horse from memory—mostly his tricks, to amuse Montgomery.
Keep it light, she told herself. No thinking allowed.
No more than a minute went by and there was Take All on paper, balking on a lead rope with his hooves planted in the turf. Poking his head over his stable door, showing his teeth in an unrepentant grin at an exasperated groom waving a curry brush. She covered several pages as Montgomery watched with fascination. “You truly do know him, bad habits and all.”
“Yes. And I keep a respectful distance.” She laughed.
“When do you think you’ll finish?”
“Oh—in a few months, if you’re talking about the painting. It’s great being able to study Take All close up. And I love the stables. There’s so much going on. But there are quiet spots to draw.”
