No, she wouldn't go there. She wouldn't be jealous of an entire country. That was ridiculous, and Hathaways were never ridiculous or anything else that was less than perfect.
Her grandfather and her mother had instructed her every day of her life to sit up straight, be responsible, never show emotion, never lose control. The lessons of a lifetime still ran through her head like an irritating song, one she couldn't ignore. Her impeccably neat office reflected those lessons, replicating the atmosphere in which she had grown up, one of sophistication, money, culture, and coldness. Even now, she felt a chill run down her arms that had nothing to do with the cool February weather and everything to do with her family.
Maybe if her sister, Elizabeth, had lived, things would have been different. She wouldn't have had to bear the burden of expectations, especially those of her mother and her grandfather, who looked to her as the only Hathaway heir upon whom all responsibilities would one day fall. Paige felt guilty at the thought, because there were a million reasons why her older sister should be alive and none of them had anything to do with making Paige's life easier.
"She found it in her attic," David said abruptly, turning back to her. "That's what the old woman said, right?"
"Yes, that's what she said on the show." Paige forced herself to focus on the present.
"You need to call her again, Paige, right now.”
The strange gleam in his eyes increased her uneasiness. "Why is this so important, Dad?"
"That's a good question." The voice came from the doorway.
Paige turned to see her mother, Victoria, enter the room. A tall, rail-thin blonde, Victoria was a picture of sophistication, the ultimate feminine executive. There was intelligence in her sharp blue eyes, impatience in her voice, and a hint of ruthlessness in her face. Dressed in a black power suit; Victoria was too intimidating to be truly beautiful, but no one who met her ever forgot her.
"I asked you a question, David," Victoria repeated. "Why are you stirring up the staff, asking Martin and Paige and God knows who else to find this Delaney woman? Is the dragon worth that much?"
"It could be priceless."
She uttered a short, cynical laugh. "Everything has a price, darling."
"Not everything."
"Have you seen something like this dragon before in one of your books? Or perhaps you've heard a story, a fairy tale? We know how much you love fairy tales, especially ones coming from China. You know everything there is to know about that country and its people." Victoria spit out the word people as if it had left a bad taste in her mouth. "Don't you?"
"Why do you care, Vicky?" he asked, deliberately using the nickname she hated. "It's not as if actual art holds any interest for you."
"Its value certainly does."
Paige sighed as her parents exchanged a glance of mutual dislike. Her father was right, though. Her mother rarely even looked at the inventory in the store. She was the financial wizard, the company spokesperson. David was the passionate art expert, the one for whom each piece told a special story. And Paige, well, no one had figured out her place at Hathaway's yet, least of all herself.
"Oh, I almost forgot." David reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet pouch. "I bought this for Elizabeth's birthday, to add to her collection."
Paige watched as he slipped out a small, exquisitely carved jade dragon that had probably been designed to fit on the top of a sword. "It's perfect. It will go nicely with the others," she said as her mother turned away. Victoria had never been comfortable talking about Elizabeth or acknowledging the tokens that David continued to buy each year in honor of his oldest daughter's love of dragons. "Do you want to leave that with me now?" she asked.
Her father returned the dragon to its pouch. "No, I'll keep it until we go to the cemetery next week."
"Really, David, these ridiculous birthday parties of yours. They're so distasteful," Victoria said with a frustrated shake of her head. "It's been twenty-two years. Don't you think--"
"No, I don't think," David said, cutting her off. "If you don't want to go to the cemetery, then Paige and I will go on our own. Right, Paige?"
Paige looked from one to the other, feeling very much like a wishbone. But she couldn't say no to her father. Elizabeth's annual birthday party was one of the few occasions they always spent together. "Of course."
The phone on her desk rang. Paige pushed the button for the intercom, grateful for the distraction.
"Mrs. Delaney is on line one," her secretary said.
"Thanks, Monica." She put the phone on speaker. "Hello, Mrs. Delaney. I'm glad you called. We'd love to talk to you about your dragon."
"I'm so excited," Nan said. "It's been such an incredible day. I can't tell you."
Paige smiled at the enthusiasm in the older woman's voice. "I'm sure it has been. We're hoping we might persuade you to bring the dragon down to the store tomorrow so we can take a look at it. Maybe first thing in the morning?"
"The morning is out, I'm afraid. Riley can't drive me until tomorrow afternoon."
"That will be fine. In fact, we have a wonderful tea. I don't know if you've heard of it, but –"
"Oh, yes, yes, I have heard of it," Nan said. "I've heard it's fantastic."
"Good, because we'd like to treat you and a friend or a family member to tea and a private appraisal. What do you say?"
"That sounds terrific," Nan replied.
"Good, why don't we--”
"Just a second," Nan said. There was a rustling, then a male voice came over the speaker.
"Miss Hathaway, I'm Riley McAllister, Mrs. Delaney's grandson. We'll be entertaining offers from numerous dealers, you understand," he said in a brusque voice.
"Of course, but I hope you'll give us a chance to make you an offer after we verify the authenticity of your piece."
"Since your store has had people calling my grandmother all day long, I'm fairly certain we have the real thing. But we will not be making any decisions without doing considerable research into the company making the offer. The House of Hathaway isn't the only game in town. And I will not allow my grandmother to be taken advantage of."
Paige frowned, not caring for the implication. The House of Hathaway had an impeccable reputation, certainly not one of taking advantage of little old ladies.
"My grandmother will bring the dragon in tomorrow," Mr. McAllister continued. "She'll be coming with a friend and myself. We'll be there at three o'clock."
"That sounds--" The dial tone cut off her reply. "Well, that was rude," she said, pressing the button to disconnect the call.
"Why did you suggest the tea?" her father asked, irritated. "That's not until the afternoon."
"She said she couldn't do it in the morning."
"I just hope that doesn't mean she's taking the dragon somewhere else. I want that dragon, whatever it costs," he said.
"Don't be absurd, David," Victoria replied. "We don't have an unlimited budget. Need I remind you of that?"
"Need I remind you that I make the buying decisions?" David looked Victoria straight in the eye. "Don't get in my way, Vicky, not on this." And with that, he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving Paige alone with her mother.
"Always so dramatic," Victoria murmured.
"Why do you think this dragon is so important to Dad?" Paige asked.
"I have no idea. What's important to your father has been a mystery to me for some time." She paused. "Keep me informed about the dragon, won't you?"
"Why?"
"Because I run the company."
"I've never known you to care about an old statue."
"I care about everything that concerns this store, especially things that make your father believe he has a blank check."
Paige frowned as her mother left the office, shutting the door behind her. It had been a long time since both her parents had been interested in the same thing. That couldn't possibly be good.
Buy GOLDEN LIES
JUST THE WAY YOU ARE
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bsp; Excerpt @ Copyright 2011 Barbara Freethy
All Rights Reserved
Prologue
"Are you ready to go for a sail?" John MacGuire asked his wife. A young, handsome man, he stood on the edge of a wide sandy beach, wearing summer shorts and his favorite T-shirt. He pointed toward the water behind him, to the sailboat that bobbed gently in the quiet bay. "It's the perfect day."
"I can't sail. I'm sick. I don't know what happened, but I can't seem to open my eyes." Phoebe MacGuire took a quick breath as panic filled her soul and the sounds and smells of the hospital threatened to pull her out of her dream. "I'm seventy-six years old now, John. How did I get to be so old? I'm scared."
"No need to be scared, my darling, not when I'm here.”
"But you're not really here," she whispered, knowing his image was nothing but a memory, and her love had been gone for a very long time.
"I miss you, Phoebe," he said softly, his voice as gentle as the morning breeze.
"I miss you, too. Nothing has been the same since you died. You were the one who kept the family together. It was you, your strength, your vision. Without you, we fell apart. Alli and Tessa are strangers now, and I don't know how to bring them back together."
"Do you still have the pearls, Phoebe?"
"Of course I do."
"Do you remember the one we found on our first anniversary? That's when we discovered you were pregnant. Then we had a son, and later granddaughters, and we taught them to love the sea, to cherish the family, and to treasure the pearls for the strength that they gave us each year to go on, to live life to its fullest, to complete the circle."
"But we didn't complete it," she said in despair. "Because you died. You left me."
"It was my time, Phoebe, but you must finish the necklace now. The pearls weren't meant to just be a symbol of our love, but of our family, our strength, our unity. The pearls are nothing on their own. But together in a strand, they are everything. It is the lesson we must teach Alli and Tessa." He paused, his expression as tender as a sweet blooming rose. "I wish for our girls a love as deep and as satisfying as the one we share."
"I want the same thing." But as his image faded away, Phoebe wondered if even the last pearl could save Alli and Tessa from themselves.
Chapter One
"Daddy, did you ever love Mommy?"
Allison Tucker caught her breath at the simple, heartfelt question that had come from her eight-year-old daughter's lips. She took a step back from the doorway and leaned against the wall, her heart racing in anticipation of her husband's answer. She'd thought she'd explained the separation to her daughter, but Megan still had questions, and this time it was up to Sam to answer.
Sam cleared his throat, obviously stalling for time. For the life of her, Alli couldn't move away. She hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but when she'd arrived to pick up Megan after her weekend with her father, she had been caught by the cozy scene in the family room.
Sam sat in the brown leather reclining chair looking endearingly handsome in his faded blue jeans and navy-blue rugby shirt. Megan was on his lap, her blond hair a mess in mismatched braids, her clothes almost exactly the same as Sam's, faded blue jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt. Megan adored dressing like her father.
"Did I show you the picture of Mommy when she dressed up like a giant pumpkin for the Halloween dance?" Sam asked, obviously trying to change the subject.
They were looking at a yearbook, Alli realized with dismay. There weren't just pictures of Sam and Alli in the yearbook, there were other people in there, too. People she didn't want Megan to know.
"Did you, Daddy? Did you ever love Mommy?" Megan persisted.
Answer the question, Sam. Tell her you never really loved me, that you only married me because I was pregnant, that your heart still belongs to -- my sister.
Alli held her breath, waiting for Sam's answer, knowing the bitter truth but wondering, hopelessly, impossibly wondering...
"I love your mother very much -- for giving me you," Sam replied.
Alli closed her eyes against a rush of emotion. It wasn't an answer, but an evasion. She didn't know why she felt even the tiniest bit of surprise. Sam would never admit to loving her. She couldn't remember ever hearing those three simple words cross his lips, not even after Megan's birth. Or after, in the days and weeks and years that followed, not even when they made love, when they shared a passion that was perhaps the only honest part of their relationship. Sam always held a part of himself back, a portion of his heart and his soul that he would never give to her. He could tell her that he cared about her, that she was important to him, that they were family, but he could never bring himself to say I love you.
Alli clenched her fists, wanting to feel anger, not pain. She'd spent more than half of her twenty-seven years in love with Sam Tucker, but he didn't love her, and he never would.
She'd lived in a dream, wanting to believe that one day things would change, that Sam would change, that he would suddenly see her for who she was, that he would want another baby. Even now, a deep ache echoed through her soul at the thought of never having another child with the man she loved, but she could no longer live in a fantasy world. He'd married her because she was pregnant. She'd been his duty, not his love, and though they'd built a life together, shared some wonderful moments, deep down Sam had always wanted someone else.
The last straw came three months ago when it had become startlingly clear that Sam still held hopes of being with her sister. The realization that, despite years of trying to be the best wife, the best mother, the best woman she could be, Sam still loved Tessa had driven Alli to do the unthinkable -- to ask for a separation.
Sam had been shocked, and no wonder. She'd chased after him forever. But no more. She couldn't keep loving someone who didn't love her back. Could she?
The niggling doubt ran through Alli's mind, her heart still battling her brain. She'd always acted on her emotions, forgetting about logic. Even her seduction of Sam all those years ago hadn't come from a master plan. It had been more like a crime of opportunity. And she'd paid for it a thousand times over.
Alli let out a sigh. She'd done so many things wrong, taking forever to grow up, as her grandmother was fond of telling her. Her biggest guilt came from putting Megan in the middle of her battle with Sam, but there was no way to avoid it. Megan had always been in the middle. And she always would be.
"Damn," Alli muttered as tears filled her eyes. She ruthlessly rubbed them away. She had to let go of the past and focus on the future. Making sure her daughter had a wonderful loving relationship with her father was her main concern. In the long run, Alli could only hope that it would be better for Megan to grow up in two peaceful homes than in one unhappy one.
Taking a deep breath, Alli smoothed down the sides of her short-sleeve emerald-green dress, the first new outfit she'd bought in years. It was tighter than she would have liked, but married life and childbirth had only encouraged her naturally curvy tendencies. She took solace in the fact that she still looked better than she had in ages, and there was a small part of her, make that a big part of her, that couldn't help hoping Sam would be floored by her new look.
Clearing her throat with purpose and determination, she entered the family room and said, "Hello."
Sam looked at her, his light blue eyes filled with annoyance. "You're early. You said seven- thirty, and it's only six. Megan and I were planning to have a pizza."
"I'm sorry." She knew his frustration covered pain. Sam might not miss her at all, but he did miss his daughter.
"This is our time together," Sam reminded her.
"I know." Alli tried not to feel anything for the man, but his physical presence had always overwhelmed her. A rugged, outdoor man, Sam had sun-streaked brown hair that was always windswept, never styled. His face was perpetually sunburned. His body was lean and fit, his fingers and palms callused from working his boats. She could still remember the way his fingers felt drifting down the side of her cheeks, her brea
sts...
She drew in a quick breath and looked out the window at the storm clouds about to descend on Tucker's Landing, one of the small seaside towns along the southern Oregon coast. Although it was late June, the weather was still unpredictable, and on days like today, summer seemed far away.
"It's starting to rain," she said. "The forecast said maybe an inch or more. I didn't want to get caught in the storm. You know I hate to drive in the rain."
Sam tightened his hold on Megan, as if Alli were attempting to steal his dearest possession. But she wasn't a thief; she was Megan's mother. Turning her attention to Megan, Alli could see that her daughter felt torn between them. Megan's blue eyes were worried, her mouth slightly pouty as she chewed nervously on the end of her braid. The last thing Alli wanted to do was make Megan feel like a wishbone, but sometimes it seemed impossible to avoid. They both loved Megan so very much.
"I'll bring her home at seven-thirty," Sam said.
"That's in an hour and a half."
"Exactly. And it's my hour and a half."
She sighed. "Come on, Sam. It's been a long day.”
"Maybe Mommy could have pizza with us," Megan suggested. She put her small hands on Sam's face so he couldn't look away from her and gazed at him with bright, eager blue eyes. "Please."
Sam's mouth set into a hard line. "I suppose. If she wants to."
Megan looked at Alli, drilling her with the same relentless gaze.
Alli hesitated, knowing the last thing Sam wanted her to do was stick around. But she hated to disappoint Megan over something so small.
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