by Nora Roberts
“Excuse me,” she managed. “I'm sorry to, ah...”
“Oh, Megan, dear.” Flustered, Coco patted her hair. She was tingling, she realized. From embarrassment—and annoyance, she assured herself. “What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to check a couple of the kitchen expenses.” She was still goggling, her eyes shifting from Coco to Dutch and back. The tension in the room was thicker than Coco's split-pea soup. “But if you're busy, we can do it later.”
“Nonsense.” Coco wiped her sweaty palms on her apron. “We're just a little frantic preparing for Trenton's arrival.”
“Trenton? Oh, I'd forgotten. Trent's father's expected.” She was cautiously backing out of the room. “We don't need to do this now.”
“No, no.” Oh, Lord, Coco thought, don't leave me. “Now's a perfect time. We're under control here. Let's do it in your office, shall we?” She took Megan firmly by the arm. “Mr. Van Horne can handle things for a few minutes.” Without waiting for his assent, she hurried from the room. “Details, details,” Coco said gaily, and clung to Megan as though she were a life raft in a churning sea. “It seems the more you handle, the more there are.”
“Coco, are you all right?”
“Oh, of course.” But she pressed a hand to her heart. “Just a little contretemps with Mr. Van Horne. But that's nothing I can't deal with.” She hoped. “How are your accounts coming along, dear? I must say I'd hoped you'd find time to glance at Fergus's book.”
“Actually, I have-”
“Not that we want you working too hard.” With the buzz going on in Coco's head, she didn't hear a word Megan said. “We want you to feel right at home here, to enjoy yourself. To relax. After all the trouble and excitement last year, we all want to relax. I don't think any of us could stand any more crises.”
“I do not have, nor do I require, a reservation.”
The crackling, irate voice stopped Coco in her tracks. The becoming flush in her cheeks faded to a dead white.
“Dear God, no. It can't be.”
“Coco?” Megan took a firmer grip on Coco's arm. She felt the tremor and wondered if she could hold the woman up if she fainted.
“Young man.” The voice rose, echoing off the walls. “Do you know who I am?”
“Aunt Colleen,” Coco said in a shaky whisper. She let go one last shuddering moan, drew in a bracing breath, then walked bravely into the lobby. “Aunt Colleen,” she said in an entirely different tone. “What a lovely surprise.”
“Shock, you mean.” Colleen accepted her niece's kiss, then rapped her cane on the floor. She was tall, thin as a rail and formidable as iron in a raw-silk suit and pearls as white as her hair. “I see you've filled the place with strangers. Better to have it burned to the ground. Tell this insolent boy to have my bags taken up.”
“Of course.” Coco gestured for a bellman herself. “In the family wing, second floor, first room on the right,” she instructed.
“And don't toss those bags around, boy.” Colleen leaned on her gold-tipped cane and studied Megan, “Who's this?”
“You remember Megan, Aunt Colleen. Sloan's sister? You met at Amanda's wedding.”
“Yes, yes.” Colleen's eyes narrowed, measured, “Got a son, don't you?” Colleen knew all there was to know about Kevin. Had made it her business to know.
“Yes, I do. It's nice to see you again, Miss Calhoun.”
“Ha. You'd be the only one of this lot who thinks so.” Ignoring them both, she walked to Bianca's portrait, studied it and the emeralds glistening in their case. She sighed, but so quietly no one could hear.
“I want brandy, Cordelia, before I take a look at what you've done to this place.”
“Of course. We'll just go into the family wing. Megan, please, join us.” It was impossible to deny the plea in Coco's eyes.
A few moments later, they had settled into the family parlor. Here, the wallpaper was still faded, peeling in spots. There were scars on the floor in front of the fireplace where errant embers had seared and burned.
“Nothing's changed here, I see.” Colleen sat like a queen in a wing chair.
“We've concentrated on the hotel wing.” Nervous and babbling, Coco poured brandy. “Now that it's done, we're beginning renovations. Two of the bedrooms are finished. And the nursery's lovely.”
“Humph.” She'd come specifically to see the children—and only secondarily to drive Coco mad.
“Where is everyone? I come to see my family and find nothing but strangers.”
“They'll be along. We're having a dinner party tonight, Aunt Colleen.” Coco kept the brilliant smile plastered on her face. “Trent's father's joining us for a few days.”
“Aging playboy,” Colleen mumbled into her brandy. “You.” She pointed at Megan. “Accountant, aren't you?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Megan's a whiz with figures,” Coco said desperately. “We're so grateful she's here. And Kevin, too, of course. He's a darling boy.”
“I'm talking to the girl, Cordelia. Go fuss in the kitchen.” “But-”
“Go on, go on.”
With an apologetic look for Megan, Coco fled. “The boy'll be nine soon?”
“Yes, in a couple of months.” She was prepared, braced, for a scathing comment on his lineage.
Tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair, Colleen nodded. “Get along with Suzanna's brood, does he?”
“Very well. They've rarely been apart since we arrived.” Megan did her best not to squirm. “It's been wonderful for him. And for me.”
“Dumont bothering you?”
Megan blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don't be a fool, girl, I asked if that excuse for a human being has been bothering you.”
Megan's spine straightened like a steel rod. “No. I haven't seen or heard from Baxter since before Kevin was born.”
“You will.” Colken scowled and leaned forward. She wanted to get a handle on this Megan O'Riley. “He's been making inquiries.”
Megan's fingers clenched on the snifter of brandy. “I don't understand.”
“Poking his nose in, asking questions.” Colleen gave her cane an imperious thump.
“How do you know?”
“I keep my ear to the ground when it comes to family.” Eyes bright, Colleen waited for a reaction, got none. “You moved here, didn't you? Your son's been accepted as Alex and Jenny—and Christian's— brother.”
Ice was forming in Megan's stomach, thin, brittle strips of it. “That has nothing to do with him.”
“Don't be a fool. A man like Dumont thinks the world revolves around him. His eye's on politics, girl, and the way that particular circus is running, a few well-chosen words from you to the right reporter...” The idea was pleasant enough to make Colleen smile. “Well, his road to Washington would be a steeper climb.”
“I've no intention of going to the press, of exposing Kevin to public attention.”
“Wise.” Colleen sipped again. “A pity, but wise. You tell me if he tries anything. I'd like to tangle with him again.”
“I can handle it myself.”
Colleen lifted one snowy brow. “Perhaps you can.”
“How come I have to wear a dumb tie?” Kevin squirmed while Megan fumbled with the knot. Her fingers had been stiff and cold ever since her talk with Colleen.
“Because it's a special dinner and you need to look your best.” “Ties are stupid. I bet Alex doesn't have to wear a stupid tie.”
“I don't know what Alex is wearing,” Megan said, with the last of her patience. “But you're doing as you're told.”
The sharp tone, rarely heard, had his bottom lip poking out. “I'd rather have pizza.”
“Well, you're not having pizza. Damn it, Kevin, hold still!” “It's choking me.”
“I'm going to choke you in a minute.” She blew her hair out of her eyes and secured the knot. “There. You look very handsome.”
“I look like a dork.”
“Fine, you lo
ok like a dork. Now put your shoes on.”
Kevin scowled at the shiny black loafers. “I hate those shoes. I want to wear my sneakers.”
Exasperated, she leaned down until their faces were level. “Young man, you will put your shoes on, and you will watch your tone of voice. Or you'll find yourself in very hot water.”
Megan marched out of his room and across the hall to her own. Snatching her brush from the dresser, she began to drag it through her hair. She didn't want to go to the damn dinner party, either. The aspirin she'd downed an hour before hadn't even touched the splitting headache slicing through her skull. But she had to put on her party face and go down, pretend she wasn't terrified and angry and sick with worry over Baxter Dumont.
Colleen might be wrong, she thought. After all, it had been nearly a decade. Why would Baxter bother with her and Kevin now?
Because he wanted to be a United States senator. Megan closed her eyes.
She read the paper, didn't she? Baxter had already begun his campaign for the seat. And an illegitimate son, never acknowledged, hardly fit the straight-arrow platform he'd chosen.
“Mom.”
She saw Kevin's reflection in the mirror. His shoes were on—and his chin was on his chest. Guilt squeezed its sticky fingers around her heart. “Yes, Kevin.”
“How come you're so mad at everything?”
“I'm not.” Wearily she sat on the edge of the bed. “I've just got a little headache. I'm sorry I snapped at you.” She held out her arms, sighing when he filled them. “You're such a handsome dork, Kev.” When he laughed, she kissed the top of his head. “Let's go down. Maybe Alex and Jenny are here.”
They were, and Alex was just as disgusted with his tie as Kevin was with his. But there was too much going on for the boys to sulk for long. There were canape's to gobble, babies to play with and adventures to plan.
Everyone, naturally, was talking at once.
The volume in the room cut through Megan's aching head like a rusty saw. She accepted the flute of champagne Trenton II offered her, and did her best to pretend an interest in his flirtation. He was trim and tall and tanned, glossily handsome and charming. And Megan was desperately relieved when he turned his attentions on Coco.
“Make a nice couple, don't they?” Nathaniel murmured in her ear. “Striking.” She took a cube of cheese and forced it down.
“You don't look in the party mood, Meg.”
“I'm fine.” To distract him, she changed the subject. “You might be interested in what I think I might have walked in on this afternoon.”
“Oh?” Taking her arm, he steered her toward the open terrace doors. “Coco and Dutch.”
“Fighting again? Saucepans at twenty paces?”
“Not exactly.” She took a deep breath of air, hoping it would clear her head. “They were... at least I think they were...”
Nathaniel's brows shot up. He could fill in the blanks himself. “You're joking.”
“No. They were nose-to-nose, with their arms around each other.” She managed to smile even as she rubbed at the throbbing in her temple. “At my unexpected and ill-timed entrance, they jumped apart as if they'd been planning murder. And they were blushing. Both of them.”
“The Dutchman, blushing?” Nathaniel started to laugh, but it began to sink in. “Good God.”
“I think it's sweet.”
“Sweet.” He looked back inside, where Coco, regally elegant, was laughing over something Trenton had whispered in her ear. “She's out of his league. She'll break his heart.”
“What a ridiculous thing to say.” Lord, why didn't her head just fall off her shoulders and give her some relief? “Sporting events have leagues, not romances.”
“The Dutchman and Coco.” It worried him, because they were two of the very few people in the world he could say he loved. “You're the accountant, sugar, and you're going to tell me that adds up?”
“I'm not telling you anything,” she shot back. “Except I think they're attracted to each other. And stop calling me 'sugar.'“
“Okay, simmer down.” He looked back down at her, focused on her. “What's the matter?”
Guiltily she dropped her hand. She'd been massaging her temple again. “Nothing.”
With an impatient oath, he turned her fully to face him, looked into her eyes. “Headache, huh? Bad one?”
“No, it's- Yes,” she admitted. “Vicious.”
“You're all tensed up.” He began to knead her shoulders. “Tight as a spring.”
“Don't.”
“This is purely therapeutic.” He rubbed his thumbs in gentle circles over her collarbone. “Any pleasure either of us gets out of it is incidental. Have you always been prone to headaches?”
His fingers were strong and male and magical. It was impossible not to stretch under them. “I'm not prone to headaches.”
“Too much stress.” His hands skimmed lightly up to her temples. She closed her eyes with a sigh. “You bottle too much up, Meg. Your body makes you pay for it. Turn around, let me work on those shoulders.”
“It's not—” But the protest died away when his hands began to knead at the knots.
“Relax. Pretty night, isn't it? Moon's full, stars are out. Ever walk up on the cliffs in the moonlight, Megan?”
“No.”
“Wildflowers growing right out of the rock, the water thundering. You can imagine those ghosts Kevin's so fond of strolling hand in hand. Some people think it's a lonely place, but it's not.”
His voice and his hands were so soothing. She could almost believe there was nothing to worry about. '“There's a painting at Suzanna's of the cliffs in moonlight,” Megan offered, trying to focus on the conversation.
“Christian Bradford's work—I've seen it. He had a feel for that spot. But there's nothing like the real thing. You could walk with me there after dinner. I'll show you.”
“This isn't the time to fool around with the girl.” Colleen's voice cut through the evening air, and she stamped her cane in the doorway.
Though Megan tensed again, Nathaniel kept his hands where they were and grinned. ”Seems like a fine time to me, Miss Colleen.”
“Ha! Scoundrel.” Colleen's lips twitched. Nothing she liked better than a handsome scoundrel. “Always were. I remember you, running wild through the village. Looks like the sea made a man of you, all right. Stop fidgeting, girl. He's not going to let loose of you. If you're lucky.”
Nathaniel kissed the top of Megan's head. “She's shy.”
“Well, she'll have to get over it, won't she? Cordelia's finally going to feed us. I want you to sit with me, talk about boats.”
“ It would be a pleasure.”
“Well, come on, bring her. Lived on cruise ships half my life or more,” Colleen began. “I'll wager I've seen more of the sea than you, boy.”
“I wouldn't doubt it, ma'am.” Nathaniel kept one hand on Megan and offered Colleen his arm. “With a trail of broken hearts in your wake.”
She gave a hoot of laughter. “Damn right.”
The dining room was full of the scents of food and flowers and candle wax. The moment everyone was settled, Trenton II rose, glass in hand.
“I'd like to make a toast.” His voice was as cultured as his dinner suit. “To Cordelia, a woman of extraordinary talents and beauty.”
Glasses were clinked. From his spy hole at the crack in the doorway, Dutch snorted, scowled, then stomped back to his own kitchen.
“Trent.” C.C. leaned toward her husband, her voice low. “You know I love you.”
He thought he knew what was coming. “Yes, I do.” “And I adore your father.”
“Mmm-hmm...”
“And if he puts the moves on Aunt Coco, I'm going to have to kill him.” “Right.” Trent smiled weakly and began on the first course.
At the other end of the table, sublimely ignorant of the threat, Trenton beamed at Colleen. “What do you think of The Retreat, Miss Calhoun?”
“I dislike hotels. Never use the
m.”
“Aunt Colleen.” Coco fluttered her hands. “The St. James hotels are worldfamous for their luxury and taste.”
“Can't stand them,” Colleen said complacently as she spooned up soup. “What's this stuff?”
“It's lobster bisque, Aunt Colleen.”
“Needs salt,” she said, for the devil of it. “You, boy.” She jabbed a finger down the table at Kevin. “Don't slouch. You want your bones to grow crooked?”
“No, ma'am.”
“Got any ambitions?”
Kevin stared helplessly, and was relieved when his mother's hand closed over his. “I could be a sailor,” he blurted out. “I steered the Mariner. ”
“Ha!” Pleased, she picked up her wine. “Good for you. I won't tolerate any idlers in my family. Too thin. Eat your soup, such as it is.”
With a quiet moan, Coco rang for the second course.
“She never changes.” Lazily content, Lilah rocked while Bianca suckled hungrily at her breast. The nursery was quiet, the lights were low. Megan had headed for it, figuring it would be the perfect escape hatch.
“She's...” Megan searched for a diplomatic phrase. “Quite a lady.” “She's a nosy old nuisance.” Lilah laughed lightly. “But we love her.”
In the next rocker, Amanda sighed. “As soon as she hears about Fergus's book, she's going to start nagging you.”
“And badgering,” C.C. put in, cradling Ethan.
“And hounding,” Suzanna finished up as she changed Christian's diaper. “That sounds promising.”
“Don't worry.” With a laugh, Suzanna slipped Christian into his sleeper. “We're right behind you.”
“Notice,” Lilah added with a smile, “the direction is behind. ”
“About the book.” Megan flicked a finger over a dancing giraffe on a mobile. “I've made copies of several pages I thought you'd be interested in. He made a lot of notations, about business deals, personal business, purchases. At one point he inventories jewelry—Bianca's, I assume—for insurance purposes.”
“The emeralds?” Amanda's brow rose at Megan's nod. “And to think of all the hours we spent going through papers, trying to find proof that they existed.”
