Deception

by Carolyn Haines

  Across the main hallway was the library, wall-to-wall books with a fireplace. A large leather chair and small table were placed before it, an open book on the table. The chair was so obviously masculine that Connor assumed it was Clay’s. She walked to the book, surprised to find that it was a work of fiction, a children’s book. The Secret Garden was a novel she’d loved when she was nine or ten. Perhaps Renata had been in the library reading, tucked into her father’s chair. But how long had it been since the children had visited the country home? Willene had implied that it was many months. The cook had mentioned how glad she was for full-time employment once again.

  Connor returned the book to the table and went on to explore the rest of the house. Between the library and the back hall was a locked room, one that Connor automatically took to be the master bedroom. She knew the downstairs suite of guest rooms was on the north side of the living room, and directly above those rooms were her own, set up in an identical pattern. There were more bedrooms and baths upstairs, and an enormous playroom on the third floor. Sally had said the third floor was positively spooky. Remembering the blinds closing like a wink, Connor felt a slight shudder. The third floor wasn’t a place she wanted to explore, at least, not for a while.

  “Mainly they use the third floor for storage. It’s like a big ballroom, with light gleaming off the old wood floors and walls and ceilings, but it’s still dark in there,” Sally had said with distaste. Like everything else in the house, the third floor was cleaned whether it was used or not.

  With the lay of the house firmly in her mind, Connor walked to the back stairs. Peeking in the kitchen, she found Willene bent over the oven. The smell of cornbread wafted out, and even after the cookies, Connor felt a rumble of hunger. Willene was a woman to be guarded against—her cooking was irresistible.

  “Smells wonderful,” Connor said. “I helped myself to a few cookies.”

  “I put a plate on the porch railing for Jeff and Old Henry. They enjoy a bit of sweets,” Willene stood up, her face flushed from the hot oven. “The house to your suiting?”

  Connor laughed. “It’s a beautiful place. A little big for my taste, though. Sally must stay busy.”

  “She does, and when it’s needed, Mr. Sumner has other help come in. I expect he’ll have to do that if the children are going to be here a lot.”

  Connor checked the clock on the kitchen wall. It was almost ten, but she had a few moments to talk with Willene. The old woman was sharp as a tack, and though she was hired help, she loved Renata and Danny. If anyone could give her a clue to dealing with the children, it would be Willene. “I’m a little apprehensive about meeting Danny and Renata.”

  Willene stood up straight and turned to face her. “They’re children. Nothing to be worried about.”

  “I’m not worried, exactly; I want to handle this right. How are the children? Is there anything I should know?”

  Willene shrugged. “Like most others. Willful and strong if they want something, but basically sweet, especially Danny. Renata has her mother’s looks but her father’s ways. Danny is kind and gentle. I worry about him.”

  “How should I handle them?” Connor asked. “I want to get off on the right foot. I realize that Mr. Sumner wants me to teach them to ride, but he’s viewing the horses as a way of instilling discipline, isn’t he?”

  Willene lifted her eyebrows. “You’re smart to catch that one.”

  “Not really. It’s a familiar pattern.” Connor pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “It hardly ever works, though. The discipline has to come from the parent. The best I can hope for is to teach them respect.”

  “Not a bad lesson.”

  “Their mother, was she a firm woman?”

  Willene turned back to the oven. “Sakes alive, my corn-bread’s cookin’ too fast.” She picked up a potholder and opened the door. When she stood up, her face was beet red. “Cup of coffee?”

  Connor nodded. Willene put two cups on the table and filled them from an old dripolater which was on the back burner of the stove. The cook pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table.

  “Ms. Talla didn’t have to be firm, people just gave her her way. She had Mr. Clay wrapped around her little finger. Even the children. It was as if everyone was afraid that the least disagreement with her wishes would result in some terrible tragedy. Mr. Clay even gave up his riding.” She sighed. “Folks around here tried hard. All of us.”

  “She was ill?” This was another unexpected turn. Connor had assumed, just based on Clay’s behavior, that he’d have a robust, healthy wife, a woman who pursued life with the same force he did. Certainly she’d died, but Connor had never thought it was a long-term condition or a congenital weakness. She’d thought it was an accident.

  “Not sick. Never sick a day in her life, but just …” Willene stopped. “It’s not my place to talk about the dead.”

  Connor thought a moment. Willene wanted to talk, but she wanted Connor to drag it out of her. Now wasn’t the time. Connor was more interested in getting a handle on the children than learning the peculiarities of the departed Talla Sumner. “But the children obeyed her?”

  “Danny worshipped her. Renata refused to go up against her. No reason for her to. Those two were like peas in a pod.”

  “Talla?” It was an odd name.

  “Tallulah was her given name. Tallulah Bienville, from one of the very oldest families in Mobile. They were here even before the Sumners. Almost before the Indians. When Mr. Clay married her, he joined two old and powerful families.”

  Connor laughed. “This is the most obsessed place I’ve ever been. Jeff asked me this morning where my people were from. It was as if he waited to pass judgment on me based on where I’d been born.” She laughed again.

  Willene didn’t smile. “He probably was.”

  “Well, I held back with the information. I’d rather be viewed as a woman of mystery.” Connor looked at her watch and stood. “Good grief, the morning is gone. I’d better clean up. The children will be here soon.”

  “Mr. Clay said to have lunch ready at noon. Does that suit you?”

  “Perfectly. The children can meet the horses, and me, and then we’ll get better acquainted over chicken-and-dumplings.” Connor helped herself to another cookie, took a small bite, and then asked the question that had been at the back of her mind. “If Mrs. Sumner wasn’t sick, how did she die?”

  Willene put her hands flat on the table. “Depends on which version of the events you’re listening to.” She kept her gaze on her hands.

  Connor felt the skin along her arms prickle. “What do you mean?”

  “Some say it was a terrible accident. Some say it was fate.” The cook looked up at Connor, her mouth set in a grim line. “Some say it was justice. But if you’re wanting details, you’d better ask Mr. Clay.”

  “I will,” Connor said slowly. She held the half-eaten cookie in her hand. “It sounds serious.”

  “It was, and it you’re going to make any headway with those children, you need to know the truth of it. Clay Sumner owes you the truth.”

  “I’ll see that he tells me,” Connor said. She left the kitchen and took the stairs to her rooms two at a time.

  Connor tied the ribbon in her hair, pulling it back from her face. She wore gray riding breeches, a turtle neck, and her boots. Although she wasn’t giving a lesson, she wanted to make sure the children understood her role. As part of that picture, she intended to greet them at the barn. She hurried down the stairs, boots clattering, and onto the back patio.

  She was leaning on the paddock rail when the Volvo wagon pulled up. Renata was in the front seat with Clay, and Danny in the rear. Connor unhooked her heel from the rail and walked to the car. She was more nervous than she’d imagined she would be, but she attributed that fact to Clay. She scanned the occupants of the car quickly.

  Renata was a small girl, delicate in every feature. Dark brown eyes looked out from beneath straight black bangs. Her ivory skin was almost tr
anslucent, and her gaze was fixed on the barn. Her hands gripped the dashboard of the car.

  “Good morning, Renata.” Connor stopped about five feet from the car and spoke into the open window. The girl did not respond.

  A tall, gangly boy climbed from the back seat. He gave both occupants of the front seat a worried look.

  “Good morning, Danny,” Connor said. She liked him immediately.

  “Good morning, Ms. Tremaine,” Danny answered. He edged to the car and opened his sister’s door. “Come on, Renata. Don’t be an idiot.” He gave Connor a nervous look. “Renata’s afraid.”

  The girl sat in the car, hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her gaze never wavered from the barn.

  “Do you like horses?” Connor asked Danny. She wanted to give Renata a chance to compose herself. She tried to catch Clay’s eye, but he was hidden in the dim interior of the car.

  “I do, I think.” Danny stepped forward. “Renata says she hates them, but she doesn’t know. She’s never been around them before.” He bent quickly and reached into the car to touch his sister’s shoulder. “Come on, Renata. Daddy said you didn’t have to go in the barn, but you have to get out of the car. Remember, you promised.”

  “Get away from me!” Small hands flailed at her brother. “Don’t you dare touch me. No one touches me!”

  “Renata.” Clay’s voice was a command. “Calm yourself. We won’t be having any of your tantrums today. That’s over.”

  “I hate horses!” Renata looked up at Connor. “I hate you. Go back to California. Get out.”

  The child’s voice was icy cold, and terribly composed. Connor almost took a step back, but she caught herself in time. In her days at Pacific Heights Stables, she’d seen some haughty, spoiled, and arrogant children, but nothing that compared with the venom of Renata Sumner.

  “Your father has hired me to teach you and your brother to ride safely. You can do that whether you like horses or not, or whether you like me or not. It’s always more fun, though, to learn something you like. It’s up to you.”

  “If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be here,” Renata answered calmly. “I’ve been told by my father that I’m to obey you.” She got out of the car. “See how well I mind.” She leaned against the fender and looked up into Connor’s face. “But I won’t ride a stupid horse, and I won’t go into that barn, no matter what you say.”

  “Renata will do exactly as you tell her,” Clay said, stepping around the front of the car. He took Renata’s hand. “Her mother hated horses, and Renata developed a dislike before she even really knew what a horse was. But my girl isn’t afraid of anything.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you?”

  “No. I’m not afraid of anything.” She looked at her father and for a second her face was touched with a childlike quality.

  “She’s afraid of the dark,” Danny said loudly. “Especially out here, in the woods.”

  Connor tried to ease the situation with a smile. “This isn’t exactly the woods, you know. There’s a phone and hot water and electricity. We aren’t stranded.”

  “I hate this place,” Renata said softly. “I want to go back to town.” She turned toward the car, but Clay’s firm grip on her shoulder stopped her.

  “You agreed to look at Ms. Tremaine’s horses, Renata. You can’t go back on your word.”

  Renata turned to him, her face bloodless and the first hint of tears in her eyes. “Not the barn. You promised,” she said, her young voice barely a whisper. “Daddy, you promised I wouldn’t have to go there today.”

  Connor watched as the little girl’s chest heaved. She was fighting for control, and she was losing.

  Clay knelt down so that his eyes were level with his daughter’s. “We talked about this, Renata. There’s nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart. I’ll be with you. Ms. Tremaine and Danny are here. Let’s just walk to the door.” He tightened his grip.

  “I won’t do it!” Some force had returned to the child’s voice. Her whitened lips clamped down in a firm line. “It’s wrong to make me! Wrong! I won’t! It’s evil!”

  “Mr. Sumner.” Connor spoke softly, but the urgency in her voice carried clearly. Pushing the child now would do no good at all. Renata was truly afraid of something. She wasn’t being stubborn, she was terrified.

  “Give us a moment,” Clay said in an equally soft voice. He never took his eyes from Renata.

  “Danny, I think I see old Henry with a halter. Let’s walk to the paddock and see my horses.” Connor put her hand on the boy’s shoulder and moved him away from the car. “I brought them all the way from California.” She chatted, trying to keep the boy’s attention on her. The raw emotion of the scene between the father and daughter was almost too painful to watch.

  “Renata’s used to getting her way,” Danny said easily. “Daddy warned her not to act ugly.” He shrugged.

  “She’s afraid,” Connor said gently. “We’ll have to take things slow and easy.” Old Henry’s stooped figure had stopped at the paddock gate where he casually held a red halter at his side. “Maybe when we catch one of the horses Renata will want to pet her.”

  “She hates Oaklawn a lot. Especially the barn. She says evil lives in the barn. She says it’s in there waiting for her.” Danny cast a glance back at his sister. “Will Renata’s horse live outside?”

  “Evil?” Connor stopped short. “What does she mean?” She couldn’t help glancing at the beautiful stone structure.

  Danny shrugged. “She says it, and sometimes she scares me talking about it. Renata can be weird sometimes.”

  “But what is evil?” Connor didn’t like the chill that tightened the skin along her arms and back. Her father would say that someone walked over her grave.

  Danny gave her a sideways look. “Daddy’s waving to us.” He ran back to the car, leaving Connor at the fence.

  “I don’t think we’ll need the halter, but thank you,” Connor said. Old Henry hardly ever spoke, but he watched the horses with real pleasure. He was in his seventies, a fixture at Oaklawn. Willene said that he’d been a paratrooper in World War Two and had come back to Oaklawn a silent and reclusive man. He did his job and went home to his small house just across the Mississippi line.

  “Miss Renata suffers, she does.” He didn’t move, but he watched Renata, Danny, and Clay.

  “Maybe she’ll learn not to be so afraid.” Connor smiled at the old man. Since he never talked to anyone, she was flattered that he’d said something to her.

  “Might be better for all if more folks were afraid.” Old Henry tilted forward in his peculiar stride and walked off.

  “Connor!” Clay signaled her over to the car. “I think Willene wants to see us up at the house,” he said softly. He was still kneeling beside Renata and he stroked a strand of hair from her hot, tearful face. “You haven’t seen Willene in a long time. Will you hate it here so much if she’s with you?”

  “Willene’s here?” Renata rubbed the path of her tears from her cheeks with both hands.

  “She baked homemade cookies for after lunch,” Connor threw in. There was something about the child that touched her.

  “I want to see Willene,” Renata said quickly. “Please, Daddy, can we?”

  Clay looked at Connor, and she nodded. It was better not to push too hard. Let them come to her in their own way. She dropped behind Clay as he took Renata’s hand, and they all walked toward the house.

  At first Connor thought it was her imagination, but then she saw Clay’s hand tighten on Renata’s as they drew closer to the house. He was pulling the little girl forward.

  “Who’s in the house?” Renata asked, stiffening her legs.

  “Willene and Sally.” Clay stopped so he could look at Renata. “You remember Sally. She helps with the cleaning.

  “Just Willene and Sally? You promise?” Renata’s voice quivered and her eyes lifted to the second and third floor windows.

  “No more tears, Renata, you promised,” Clay said firmly.

  “It’
s okay,” Danny said, and the little boy took his sister’s other hand. “Willene will take care of us.”

  “Willene will stay with us?” Renata asked.

  “Absolutely.” Clay started forward. “And Connor, too. If you give it half a chance, you might discover that you love Oaklawn as much as I do. One day it will be yours and Danny’s.”

  “One day.” Renata looked up at the house. Her lips parted slightly as she breathed. “If any of us are still alive.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  When Sally cleared the last plate away and brought the coffee, Connor finally relaxed. The children were dismissed from the table, and they left to track Willene down in the kitchen without a backward glance. It had been a silent and tension-wrought meal. Every rattle of cutlery, every cleared throat was weighted with the potential for trouble.

  Connor rearranged her spoon on the table and let her thoughts drift back to the morning. Only the cook’s appearance on the porch had saved them from another scene with Renata when she tried to balk at entering the house. Somehow, Willene had whisked the child inside without a word of protest. What had happened at Oaklawn to send a feisty eleven-year-old girl into such dread?

  Clay was caught up in his own thoughts as he sipped his coffee. Connor cast a glance in his direction. Sitting at the head of the table, he was an impressive figure. Man of the house. Man of destiny. She sighed. What was going on at Oaklawn? For the moment, she wanted only to escape to her room and lock the door. It was beginning to dawn on her that she’d made a serious error in judgment. Forty-five thousand, rent-free, stable-free dollars was too much for the job she’d been hired to do. She should have known; she should have suspected. Richard should have warned her that Clay Sumner’s daughter was severely disturbed. She had half a mind to call him and demand that he send her enough money to get out of hock to Clay and get the hell out of Mobile. Whether it was inbreeding, or something in the water, the people she’d met in her brief stay were decidedly odd. It would be best to leave, before things progressed. But how?