But what would a professional have said about the man she’d glimpsed in her bed when she’d awakened? The naked man? Delaney wasn’t sure that she wanted to know.
While she’d been asleep and battling her terrors, Max had been a hazy presence, more of a feeling than a form. Yet the moment she’d opened her eyes, the image of him had solidified. For a flash, Max had been there. The image had lasted only a split second, yet she’d had enough time to see his familiar blue gaze and the lock of hair that always flopped over his forehead. She’d gotten the impression there had been a lot of bare skin, too.
Apparently, her subconscious had decided that the adult Max slept in the nude.
Max the boy had worn grubby T-shirts and jeans. He would have been too shy to show up with nothing on. The new version of Max seemed to have acquired an attitude along with his height and his muscles. A man like that would have no problem with his nudity.
What the hell happened to you, Deedee?
He’d sounded as surprised by her appearance as she’d been by his. The reaction had made him seem even more real. She’d heard his voice as vividly as she’d felt his touch. Skin that had been as good as dead for months had tingled beneath the warmth of his fingers.
That alone proved it had been only a dream. For one thing, a real man would have been repulsed by the scars on her body. For another, she hadn’t enjoyed a man’s touch in ages.
The thought gave her pause. It was true, she and Stanford hadn’t made love as often in the last few years as they had in their early days, but that was only natural. No one could honeymoon forever. She reached for a pillowcase and gave it a brisk flap to knock out the wrinkles. The back of her hand smacked hard against the clothesline.
The pain knocked her breathless. She dropped the pillowcase and cradled her hand to her chest, blinking away tears as she waited for the stinging to fade. An image of roses and rainbows flashed through her mind. It was the place Max had taken her the night before, where there hadn’t been any scars or skin grafts. There hadn’t been any vengeful stepdaughters or lawsuits, either.
Could that be why her mind was returning to him? Was it a sign she couldn’t cope with her real life?
Possibly. He’d certainly helped her cope with her nightmare, even though she’d had to plead with him to do it. That was an improvement over the way he’d rejected her outright yesterday.
But she had made him up; therefore she was the one who had rejected herself, and now she was the one who was coping.
This was getting far too complicated. Of all the things she had to worry about, the return of Max shouldn’t be one of them. It simply meant her imagination was functioning again. Hopefully, her memory would follow suit.
She flexed her fingers and leaned over to retrieve the pillowcase.
“Hey, Delaney.”
She turned toward the voice.
Phoebe Spencer, the student who was helping Helen for the summer, was hurrying toward her from the direction of the back door. Along with her usual outfit of cut-off shorts and a tube top, she wore one of Helen’s ruffled gingham aprons. She waved one hand at the laundry basket. “Mrs. W.’s going to kill me.”
“Why?”
“I was supposed to hang that stuff up.”
“I’m almost done. You can pretend you didn’t see me.”
Phoebe shook her head, knocking loose a clump of hair. She’d pulled it into a spiky, magenta-streaked version of Helen’s pouf this morning. “No, that’s not why I came to find you. You’ve got a visitor.”
Delaney immediately envisioned a tall, dark-haired man with broad shoulders and a go-to-hell attitude. Her pulse skipped. “A visitor?”
“He said his name’s Leo Throop.”
A flesh-and-blood visitor. “He’s my lawyer.”
“A lawyer? You’re kidding. He looks just like the algebra prof I had last year.” She gestured at her elbows. “His jacket has those things on the sleeves.”
“He cultivates the rumpled look. It makes some people underestimate him.”
“I guess that’s why Mrs. W. made him show her his ID. She wanted to be sure he’s who he said he is.”
“Leo must have loved that.”
“I couldn’t tell. I know Mrs. W. enjoyed it.” Phoebe took the pillowcase from Delaney’s hand. “I’ll finish this up for you.”
“Thanks.” She turned toward the back door.
“He’s on the front veranda.”
Delaney nodded and changed direction, walking across the terrace and around to the front yard. The veranda was considered a second sitting room during the summer. Leo was in one of the wicker chairs that were grouped to the left of the front entrance. He was a plump man, so it was a tight squeeze. A tweed sport coat with suede elbow patches was draped over the back of the chair and a bulging leather briefcase rested on the floor beside him. He used the chair arms to push himself to his feet as she climbed to the veranda. “Good morning, Delaney. I hope I haven’t caught you at an inconvenient time.”
“Hardly. I was hanging up the laundry.”
He regarded her over the tops of his glasses and widened his eyes in mock horror. “You?”
“I need to exercise them,” she said, waggling her fingers. “Consider it therapy. Clothespins work just as well as the rubber ball they gave me in rehab.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, thanks. How was the flight?”
“Aside from the uncivilized earliness of the departure time, it was pleasant. I learned a great deal about outboard motors from my seat mate, who was a sales rep for your local factory. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I loathe boats.”
“They’re not my favorite mode of transport, either. Thanks for coming so quickly, Leo.”
“It was my pleasure. I was planning to drop in during the weekend to check up on you anyway. This way I can bill you for the trip and the hotel.”
It was an old joke. Leo had been a frequent visitor during her initial stay at the hospital and later during the months at the clinic, both as her friend and as her lawyer. They’d first met when he’d gone to work at the same firm as her father. She could have afforded to hire a more high-power attorney, yet there was none she trusted as much as Leo, especially when it came to dealing with her stepdaughter. Stanford’s lawyer was an old friend of the Graye family and had known Elizabeth all her life, so she couldn’t gamble on his loyalty. She took the chair beside Leo’s and waited until he’d seated himself again. “I heard about the welcome my grandmother gave you. I hope you didn’t take it personally.”
“I thought for a minute she might frisk me.”
“She’s not usually suspicious of people, but the way that process server got into the house yesterday upset her.”
“I take it there was some drama?”
“I can’t blame the messenger. He was only doing his job.”
Leo took off his glasses, polished them with the end of his tie, then set them back in place, his way of signaling the conversation was turning to business. “I want to assure you, Delaney, Elizabeth has no case.”
“As far as we know.”
“There is no evidence of any wrongdoing or negligence. I’ve studied the police reports as well as the transcripts of the official inquiry and found nothing that could support her claim of wrongful death.”
“There’s nothing that contradicts it, either.”
“That reasoning will get her nowhere.”
“The ‘innocent until proven guilty’ principle doesn’t apply to civil cases, does it?”
“Correct, it’s decided by a preponderance of evidence, but the result should be the same. You weren’t responsible for Stanford’s death. It had been snowing, the road was slick, the bend was sharp, and there were no guardrails. It was only a tragic accident.”
“Then why weren’t we going home when it happened, Leo?”
“Don’t dwell on it, Delaney.”
“I can’t help it. We left the restaurant in Bedford at nine. It’s
a seven-minute drive from there to the estate. The police called in the crash at one a.m., and we were almost to the Hudson.”
“There could be dozens of innocent explanations for the detour.”
“Okay, name one.”
“You could have decided to drop in on friends.”
“Stanford wasn’t impulsive. He ran his life like he ran his business, always on a schedule. And if we had visited someone, why haven’t they come forward?”
“Perhaps it was a business acquaintance.”
“That’s stretching things, Leo. Where were we for four hours?”
“Getting coffee. Enjoying the scenery.”
“It was cold and dark.”
“There were plenty of holiday lights to admire.”
She looked at her hands as she asked the question that haunted her the most. “Why was I driving?”
“Stanford could have been sleepy,” Leo replied. “Or maybe he felt he’d had too much wine at dinner.”
“He loved that Jag. He didn’t want anyone else to drive it, even me.”
“There’s really no point speculating about this.”
“You can be sure that Elizabeth has. She might know something I don’t. It’s frustrating.”
“Many trauma victims never regain their memories of an accident. You could be better off not remembering.”
She dropped the back of her head against the chair. “The doctors said the same thing, but I don’t agree. Now it’s more important than ever that I do remember. You have to admit all the unanswered questions make the accident seem suspicious. If I knew why I was behind the wheel and why we were on that road, at least we’d have a chance of gathering some corroborating evidence to prove my innocence. That would take the steam out of Elizabeth’s lawsuit.”
Leo touched her knee. “Delaney, I don’t believe she expects to win. That’s not her primary motivation for taking you to court.”
“Then what is?”
“She wants a forum to air her grievances. She’ll use rumor and innuendo to humiliate you publicly and destroy your reputation.”
Leo’s bluntness was one of the things she liked about him. But he wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t already thought of herself. “She wants to punish me for Stanford’s death any way she can.”
“Yes. She also wants to punish you for stealing her father and for beguiling him into making you his sole heir.”
Beguiling. It was an old-fashioned word, yet Stanford had used it himself. He’d maintained that he’d fallen under her spell the first moment he’d seen her. “Elizabeth never believed that the money didn’t matter to me.”
“She doesn’t know you.”
“She didn’t want to. I loved Stanford, which should have given me some common ground with his daughter, but she never believed that, either. She had trouble accepting the fact that we were happy.”
“She made no secret of her opposition to your marriage. She was very vocal about it. I believe that’s one of the main reasons Stanford changed his will in your favor. He needed to demonstrate who was in control.”
“They were a lot alike. Neither of them would accept defeat; they were too proud. I don’t believe he meant to cut her out for good, though.” She sat forward. “Couldn’t we make some kind of settlement to transfer a percentage of the estate to her? I’ve got more than enough for five lifetimes.”
“I’d advise against it. Unless she drops her suit, it would appear as if you’re attempting to silence her. That would help fuel her allegations. In fact, it would be wise to consider returning to Bedford. That would strengthen your position by reinforcing your claim to the house. It’s been vacant for too long.”
“The security company does regular checks.”
“Yes, and the yard service is maintaining the grounds, but it can’t remain unoccupied indefinitely.”
The idea of going back to the place she’d shared with Stanford left her cold. She wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. “What other suggestions do you have?”
Leo undid the clasp on the front of his briefcase, withdrew a sheaf of papers, and held them out to her. “We should come out on the offensive. Attack her credibility.”
“What’s this?”
“We’re going to sue her for slander and harassment. There are several individuals at Grayecorp who have agreed to testify on your behalf.”
“Why would they do that?”
“They’re not entirely happy with Elizabeth’s vision for the company. What’s more, her recent behavior could be viewed as irrational. They’d like to see her out.”
Rather than taking the papers, Delaney held up her palms. “No. I can’t do that to her. Regardless of our personal issues, I happen to agree with her when it comes to Grayecorp. She’s good for the company.”
“Speaking as your attorney, I urge you to reconsider. In this instance, it’s impossible to ignore what you call your personal issues. Her public criticisms of you reflect on the company.”
“She’s just lost her father. I’m not going to be responsible for her losing her position, too. Thanks to Stanford’s will, it’s the only thing she has left.”
“She’s far from destitute. She has a sizable trust fund.”
“Yes, from her mother, but nothing from her father. Even I can see that’s not fair. I want to stop her but not destroy her.”
“Speaking as your friend now, I have to warn you that your sympathy for your stepdaughter is misplaced. You persist in seeing the good in people, Delaney. It’s an admirable quality, but in this case it could hurt you.”
“Leo—”
“Kindness isn’t always returned for kindness. Neither is love. You’ve already been hurt enough.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I still owe Stanford my loyalty. I won’t deliberately ruin his daughter.”
“You owe him nothing!”
The vehemence in Leo’s voice surprised her. “He was my husband,” she said.
He pursed his lips, as if debating whether or not to continue. “Forgive me, Delaney,” he said finally. “I realize it’s your decision. I only want what’s best for you.”
“I understand. You’re a good friend.”
His silence went on longer this time. “That’s what I’ve always endeavored to be.” He cleared his throat, then tapped the papers on end to line up the edges, placed them on the table, and closed his briefcase. “I’ll leave these here in case you change your mind. As distasteful as you might find it, taking the offensive is our best option.”
THE HOUSE HAD SETTLED IN FOR THE NIGHT. NO VOICES sounded through the walls; no pipes clanged. The last guest room toilet had been flushed more than an hour ago. All was silent, apart from the occasional whisper of rustling leaves in the maples and the monotonous croak of bullfrogs in the pond. The familiar chorus used to lull Delaney to sleep when she’d been a child. It wasn’t working tonight.
Shrugging on her robe, she padded through the darkness to her bedroom window and drew the curtain aside. Mosquitoes hummed as they bumped against the screen, another sound from her childhood. The view had changed, though. The glow from the trailer park that used to brighten the sky beyond the woods was gone. Only a single light twinkled through the trees now. She looked down on the moonlit yard, then at the oak that had held her swing, and her thoughts drifted to her mother.
She didn’t have many memories of Annalee Wainright, so what she did have were precious. Besides the rare occasions her mother had played outside or pushed her on the swing, Delaney remembered her mother’s voice as she’d read to her. Annalee had loved books and had seldom been without one. Her fingers had been long and delicate as she’d smoothed her hand over the pages. Because she’d spent so much time indoors, her skin had been pale, nearly translucent. It had been her mother’s face that Delaney had pictured whenever she’d listened to a story about a fairy princess.
Annalee had been in her freshman year at college, younger than Phoebe, when she’d become pregnant. Neither she nor Delaney’s fath
er had been in a financial position to support a child, and neither had planned on getting married at such an early age. They’d had a one-night stand, which wasn’t enough to base a lifetime commitment on, so Annalee had continued to live at home. She arranged to leave the child-care duties to her parents while she went back to school to finish her degree, dreaming of eventually becoming a teacher. She’d planned to build an independent life for herself and her daughter, but she never got the chance. Less than a year after Delaney was born, Annalee was diagnosed with leukemia.
Delaney’s grandparents had done a good job sheltering her from the situation. Rather than remembering her mother’s illness, she remembered her love. It had been unconditional, always there, as much a part of her as her blonde hair or her laughter or her delicate hands. Even now, when Helen spoke of her daughter it was usually with a smile. Loss hadn’t turned her bitter. It had made her cherish the living even more.
Delaney sighed. She and Elizabeth had both lost their mothers when they’d been children, and as a result they had both drawn closer to their fathers. She hadn’t been entirely honest with Leo. It wasn’t only her loyalty to Stanford that caused her to go easy on his daughter. She understood where Elizabeth was coming from. Delaney might not have behaved any better than her stepdaughter if she’d had to share her father’s love with a stepmother, particularly if she’d believed the match was wrong for him.
The issue had never come up, though. Charles Cowan, Delaney’s father, had never married. That hadn’t stopped him from gaining custody of his natural daughter. At first Delaney had hated being wrenched from her grandparents and the only home she’d known, but once she got older she understood what an exceptional man her father had been. Many men in his position would have turned their back on an unplanned child. Not Charles. He’d tailored his life to make room for her. Though he hadn’t been as emotionally demonstrative as Delaney’s mother or grandparents, she’d been just as sure of his love.
That was important to a child, regardless of age. No matter how annoyed Stanford had been with Elizabeth, he shouldn’t have changed his will to cut her out. She would have interpreted that as a rejection. Perhaps if Stanford had lived longer, Elizabeth would have come around. She was only a few years younger than Delaney, a fact that had strengthened her objections to the marriage, yet Delaney had hoped their close ages could have at least allowed them to be friends. From what she’d seen, Elizabeth was too immersed in her career to have many of those. That was another trait Stanford had shared with his daughter. Business had always been his first priority, too.
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