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.
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ALL SHE EVER WANTED
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p; Excerpt @ Copyright 2011 – Barbara Freethy
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Chapter One
"Pick a card, any card."
Natalie Bishop stared at the playing cards in the old man's hands. "Mr. Jensen, I really need to listen to your heart. You said you were having some chest pain earlier?"
He ignored her question and tipped his head toward the cards. His fingers were long, his hands wrinkled and pale, weathered with age spots. His dark eyes pleaded with her to do as he asked. The emergency room of St. Timothy's Hospital in San Francisco was not the place for card tricks. But Natalie had learned in the past three years of her residency that healing wasn't always about medicine, and patient visits weren't always about being sick. Sometimes they were just about being old and lonely. So she did what he'd asked -- she picked a card. It was the ace of spades. The death card. A chill ran through her.
"Don't tell me what it is, Dr. Bishop. Just hold it in your hand." Mr. Jensen closed his eyes and began to mutter something under his breath.
Natalie had a sudden urge to throw the card down on the bed, which was ridiculous. She wasn't superstitious. She didn't believe in card tricks, hocus pocus, or any other kind of magic. She didn't believe in anything that couldn't be scientifically proven. The ace of spades was just a card. If she were playing poker or blackjack, she'd be excited to have it.
Mr. Jensen's eyes flew open and he stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. "The dark ace. Spades."
She swallowed hard. "Good guess." Handing him back the card, she asked, "How did you know?"
"I felt you shiver." He met her gaze with a seriousness that made her feel even more uneasy. "You're afraid."
"No, I'm not." She didn't have time to be afraid. She was a medical resident working double shifts most days. She was overworked, overtired, and stressed to the max. She didn't have the energy to be scared. Except that she was scared. She was terrified that something would go wrong at this late date, that with only a month to go on her residency, after years of struggling against almost insurmountable odds to become a doctor, she would somehow fail. And failure wasn't an option. Her career was her life.
"Something bad is coming," the old man continued. "I can feel it in my bones. And these old bones have never been wrong."
"I don't know what you're talking about. Why don't you let me listen to your heart?" Natalie placed her stethoscope on his chest and listened to the steady beating of his heart. It sounded fine. Hers, on the other hand, was pounding against her rib cage. Too much caffeine, she told herself, nothing more than that.
"Your heart sounds good," she said, focusing her mind on the present. "Are you having any pain?"
"Not anymore."
Natalie wasn't surprised. Mr. Jensen was a regular in the ER, and by now they both knew the drill. "What did you have for lunch?"
"Pepperoni pizza."
She had suspected as much. "I think we found our culprit. Was it a burning pain right about here?" she asked, putting her hand on his chest.
He nodded. "Yes, that's it exactly."
"Sounds like the same indigestion you had last week and the week before. It's time to stop eating pizza, Mr. Jensen." She pulled out her prescription pad. "I can give you something to help with your digestion, but you really need to work on changing your diet."
"Maybe I should wait here for a while, make sure it doesn't come back."
Natalie knew she should send him on his way. There was nothing physically wrong with him, and they would no doubt need the bed in the next few hours. It was Friday after all, a perfect night for madness and mayhem. But Mr. Jensen was almost eighty years old and lived alone. He probably needed company more than medical treatment.
Don't get involved, she told herself. Emergency medicine was about fixing specific problems, not getting emotionally involved with the patients. That's why she'd chosen the specialty. She was good at the quick fix but bad at personal relationships.
"I can show you another trick," Mr. Jensen offered, fanning the cards with his hand. "I used to be a magician, you know, a good one, too. I once worked in Las Vegas."
"I've never been to Vegas."
"And you don't believe in magic," he said with a sigh.
"No, I don't."
He tilted his head, considering her with wise old eyes that made her nervous. "When did you stop believing?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"In Santa Claus and the tooth fairy and leprechauns."
"I never believed in those things."
"Never? Not even when you were a little girl?" he asked in amazement.
She opened her mouth to tell him she'd never really been a little girl, when an image of herself in a long pink nightgown came into her head. She couldn't have been more than seven. Her dad had swept her up into his arms so she could hang her stocking over the fireplace and they'd put out chocolate-chip cookies for Santa Claus. It was their last Christmas together. A wave of grief hit her hard. She'd almost forgotten. And she didn't know which was worse -- that she'd almost forgotten or that she'd remembered.
Natalie looked down at the prescription pad in her hand and forced herself to finish writing. She ripped off the paper and handed it to him. "This should do the trick."
"I don't think I feel well enough to leave yet," he said slowly, putting a hand to his chest.
His lonely eyes pleaded with her to understand. And she did. She knew the old man lived on his own, and she knew how hard it was to be alone. But the attending physician was a fanatic about hospital policies, which always involved moving the patients along as quickly as possible, and he'd love having a reason to call her on the carpet. One more month, she told herself. She had to finish her residency. She could worry about changing hospital policies later. Still...
"You know," she said, the cards in his hand catching her eye, "I bet there are some kids up in pediatrics who would love to see some card tricks. Why don't I send one of the volunteers in, and if you're feeling up to it, she can take you upstairs and put you to work."
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "That sounds good. Thank you, Dr. Bishop."
"No problem." Natalie walked out of the room and down the hall, stopping at the nurse's station to drop off his chart and ask the nurse to find someone to take Mr. Jensen up to pediatrics.
"He worked you good," Gloria, the charge nurse, told her, a knowing glint in her experienced eyes.
Natalie shrugged. "It's a win-win situation. The kids will love his tricks, and he'll have someone to talk to. Maybe he can volunteer upstairs and we'll see less of him down here."
"You're trying to stop the dam from breaking with your little finger. There are a hundred more just like Mr. Jensen who come in here every week -- are you going to send them all to pediatrics?"
"Only if they can do magic tricks. Do I have time for a break?" she asked, checking the board on the wall.
"A short one," Gloria replied.
"You know where to find me." Natalie headed down the hall to the break room. A lone medical student, Karen Gregg, was eating a sandwich in front of the small television. She put up a hand to shush Natalie when she started to say hello. Natalie glanced at the screen, wondering what was so intriguing. It appeared to be one of those book shows with a man seated at a desk in a bookstore, a hardcover novel displayed next to him. The title of the book was Fallen Angel and the author was Garrett Malone, a man in his forties with a thick beard, studious eyeglasses, and a serious expression.
She was about to turn away when she heard his voice. It was oddly familiar. Or maybe it was his words that resounded in her memory ...
"They stood at the gates of heaven, the pledges on one side of the room, the sorority sisters on the other," he read. "They were beautiful young women in white dresses, rings of flowers on their heads. Their faces glowed in the light of the candles held in their hands. The hush of voices provided a beautiful harmony to the night's initiation ceremony.
"One girl didn't belong. She had the urge
to run away, but her friends surrounded her. They were called the Fabulous Four, united since their first day as college freshmen and later as sorority pledges. One wanted to be a doctor, another a model, a third wanted a husband and children. But this one girl wasn't sure what she wanted to be. She just knew that she wanted her friends to know the real her.
She wanted to stop pretending to be someone she wasn't. Only she couldn't find the courage to take off the mask, to show her true self. She was afraid they would judge her, and she was right to be afraid."
Garrett Malone paused and looked directly into the camera. Natalie drew in a sharp breath, suddenly reminded of Mr. Jensen and his prediction that something bad was coming.
"In a few moments they would become sisters," Malone continued. "By the end of the night one of them would be dead."
"Emily," Natalie whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. It was Emily's story. It was their story. They were the Fabulous Four: Madison, Laura, Emily, and herself. They'd met at college. They'd pledged together their sophomore year. But the man was reading from a novel. It was fiction, wasn't it? Of course it was. The plot line was just strangely similar. A bizarre coincidence? It couldn't be anything more than that. Could it?
"Is something wrong, Dr. Bishop?" Karen asked.
Natalie realized the woman was looking at her with alarm. "What?"
"You're as white as a sheet. Are you ill?"
"I'm fine. Just fine."
"Have you read the book yet?" Karen tipped her head toward the television set.
"I don't have time to read."
"I don't either, but murder mysteries are my guilty pleasure. This one got a great review in the Tribune."
The Sweetest Thing Page 38
