by Melissa Good
She thought about that for a bit.
C’mon, Dar. You never backed down from anything. Don’t go starting now, just because a few bad apples hit you on the head in the same day. A slight grin tugged at her lips at the sound of her father’s voice echoing in her head and turned, letting her eyes crack open and observe the attractive kneecap inches from her face.
Experimentally, she licked it.
“Yeow!” Kerry almost levitated off the bed. “Dar! What are you trying to do, scare me to death?”
“With a single measly lick?” Dar opened one blue eye fully and raised its brow. “You flatter me.”
Kerry turned an appealing shade of crimson, which made her fair hair and eyebrows stand out vividly. “You must be feeling better,” she accused, leaning over to continue her work.
Dar rocked a hand back and forth. “A little.” She exhaled, warming Kerry’s knee. “Just the peace and quiet’s helping,” her finger touched Kerry’s calf, “and having you here.”
“Thanks.”
“Mmm.” Dar closed her eyes again.
“Tell me something. I mean, I’ve met people like your mother’s family before.”
“Ungh.”
“How on earth did she and your father hook up? I’m trying to figure out where they could have met. Did they crash into each other on the highway or something?” Privately, Kerry had been imagining a combination sushi bar/shooting range.
“Ah. Well, that’s a tale,” her lover acknowledged. “I wondered, myself, after I got old enough to realize just how different they really were.” She tilted her head. “Like us.”
Kerry burst out laughing. “Not. Dar. We are not anywhere near that different. C’mon now.”
“No, we are.” The blue eye regarded her. “You grew up with a silver spoon, didncha?”
She thought about that. “I guess. Yeah. If you mean my family always had money, sure. But you’re worth a heck of a lot more than I Eye of the Storm 83
am.”
“I’d firmly disagree. But in dollars, right now, okay,” Dar acknowledged. “That’s only been in the last few years, though. Growing up, we were living on my dad’s military pay. It’s why I started working so young.”
“Mmm.” It was Kerry’s turn to be thoughtful.
“I have this,” Dar’s brow creased, “outer veneer of…I mean, I learned how to buy the right clothes and all that, but underneath I’m still a scruffy military brat, who’s more comfortable barefoot on the beach than dressed in the boardroom.” She paused. “I think that’s why I’m so…why my mother’s family gets to me so much. They know that and they’ve all got that old money thing going. I always felt...”
“Like they were looking down on you?”
Dar nodded.
“You kicked their attitude right up through their nostrils today, you do realize that, right?” Kerry pronounced, with an understanding grin. “I remember the first time I saw you, and let me tell you something, Dar, you knocked my socks off and I am old money. I can smell a bourgeoisie at twenty paces.”
“It was the power suit,” Dar mumbled, faintly embarrassed. “And the first time you saw me, I was going to fire you. That doesn’t count.”
A soft knock at the door caused Kerry to roll up to her feet and answer it, allowing the room service waiter to enter and put the tray down on the small table. “Thanks.” She signed the bill and closed the door after him, then went to the tray and examined its contents. “I don’t know, Dar. There’s something very appealing about the thought of you sitting in that kazillion dollar condo munching on a bowl of Frosted Flakes and milk. I like that about you.” She uncovered the soup bowl and brought it over to the bed, sitting down carefully so she wouldn’t spill anything. “C’mon. Roll over.”
With a sigh, Dar complied, sitting up and pulling her body closer to accept a spoonful of the broth. It was tasty and she readily took the bowl from her lover and discarded the spoon, sipping it directly from the side as Kerry shook her head and chuckled. “You got a problem with me drinking from this here utensil, young lady?” Dar produced a reasonable facsimile of her father’s growly tones.
Kerry laughed.
“In a bus station.” Dar glanced at her.
“Huh?”
“You asked where they met.” Dar swallowed the pill Kerry now offered her, chasing it down with a little more soup. “It was in a bus station. My mother had…I don’t know, I guess she was in a rebellious stage herself. She’d decided to run away from home and ended up in the local Greyhound stop.”
Kerry leaned her chin on her fist. “Really?”
“Mmm. Dad had gotten caught between transports and decided to switch to the bus because it was going to take half of forever for him to 84 Melissa Good get back to Atlanta otherwise.” Dar smiled. “He just had enough cash for the ticket and he was sitting in there with his gear, in his uniform when she came in.”
“Uh huh. Then what?” Kerry got up, retrieved the sandwiches and put the plates down on the bed.
“Depends on which one you ask,” Dar responded. “Dad says ‘musta been the damn uniform, all them shiny things blinded her butt.’”
Kerry giggled. “And your mother said?”
“She said she looked into those eyes and was lost.” Dar’s lips tightened slightly. “She asked where his ticket was for and that’s where she went.” She took a breath. “She never looked back.”
They regarded each other quietly for a moment.
“Wow.” Kerry finally sighed, gaining an unexpected understanding of someone she barely knew. “That sounds really intense.”
A slow nod. “It was. Her family tried everything to get her home.
Finally they just gave up.”
“And accepted it?”
Dar shook her head. “They never did. He was always an outsider to them.”
Kerry pulled a bit of turkey out of her sandwich and chewed it slowly and thoughtfully. Dar took a bite of her own, and they ate in silence. “Wow,” the blonde woman finally said, as she studied the angular face opposite her. Even given their different genders and age, and Andrew’s scarring, she could see the uncanny similarities, from the dark hair, and pale eyes, even to the shape of her friend’s jaw. “She must miss him a lot.”
A serious nod.
What would it be like, Kerry wondered, to have that kind of ache, and be reminded of it every time you looked into someone’s eyes? “Are you going to tell her, Dar?” The question neither of them had brought up all week surfaced unexpectedly from her lips.
The blue eyes lowered. “I gave him my word I wouldn’t.” She could ask the same vow of Kerry, she knew.
But she didn’t.
Dar raised her head to find Kerry looking back at her with quiet intelligence. “Can I come with you tomorrow?” the blonde woman asked, with just a hint of a smile. “I think I have more in common with your mother than she realizes.”
“Could be,” Dar agreed softly, glad of the offer. She eyed Kerry and produced a smile. “Wanna share some ice cream?”
Kerry chuckled and retrieved the bowl.
Chapter
Ten
THE PHONE, WHEN it rang, was a thin, discrete warble. It echoed gently off spotless tile floors and the eggshell walls that bore only abstract, thinly drawn art. After a moment, soft bare footfalls scuffed against the tile, and the phone was answered.
“Yes?”
“Ceci. Are you there?”
“Of course I am. Do you think this is the machine?” Cecilia sighed.
“What is it, Richard? I have things I have to do this morning.”
“Did you arrange to talk to Dar?”
Another sigh. “For all the good it’s going to do for either of us, yes.”
“C’mon, Cec. Give it a chance, will you? She’s not the kid you knew,” Richard Edgerton coaxed. “Do you know what she’s doing now?”
“I don’t want to know,” the slim silver blonde woman stated sharply. “Richard, we’ve been through thi
s. I’m only doing this because I think I’m obligated to, and why in the world you’d think she’d confide or listen to me, I haven’t clue number one on.”
“You’re her mother.”
“I used to be her mother, Richard,” came the quiet response. “And even then, it didn’t work.”
The lawyer sighed. “She’s not a bad person, Ceci.”
“I don’t much care what kind of person she is, Richard. Now, if you don’t have anything else to nag me about, I’ve got things to do.”
“She’s coming here after she leaves your place,” Edgerton commented.
Cecilia frowned. “Then you already knew she was coming here?
Richard, I don’t have time for games.” She hung the phone up and straightened its position, then glanced around the spacious townhouse, with its neutral toned, spare furniture and its air of almost painful neat-ness. “I really don’t have time for this, either,” she murmured, with a tiny shake of her head.
Or, at least, she told herself that. Her eyes ran over the living room one more time before she moved into the austere kitchen and picked up a glass of vegetable juice she’d just pressed and sipped it slowly to settle her stomach. She leaned against the counter and watched out the window, putting everything out of her mind. Finally, the occasional car passing by outside became one that didn’t pass, but turned into the small 86 Melissa Good driveway instead. A rental car, with two passengers, and Cecilia closed her eyes at that. “You always do have to find the most difficult way, don’t you?”
She remained where she was as both doors opened and the two passengers emerged, then her eyes and attention focused on the taller of the two.
Richard was right about one thing.
Dar had changed.
Oh, she was recognizable, surely. The same tall, lanky frame, with its cap of dark hair, and the southern tanned skin. Those same blue eyes.
But the dynamics behind it had all changed. The sullen, somewhat gawky, truculent young adult she’d last seen had been magically replaced by this confident, self assured woman whose poised movements bespoke an athleticism she frankly thought her sometimes impatient daughter would have given up by now. Today, Dar was wearing something a little more familiar, jeans that fit snugly all down the length of her long legs and a simple cotton shirt tucked into the waistband, the short sleeves revealing powerful, toned arms.
Cecilia watched them walk up the long driveway, and finally, briefly turned her attention to her daughter’s shorter companion.
So.
This was Kerrison Stuart.
Interesting.
She straightened, then set her glass down very precisely on the counter, and spared a single moment of memory for the last time she’d seen Dar. The awkward, stumbling speech she’d cut short, divining Dar’s intent to go with her and fulfill what she mistakenly thought was her father’s responsibilities.
Just go. She’d said it simply. I don’t want you around me.
And Dar had went, after a single, timeless moment of silent regard, in which she’d seen a glimpse of a hurt almost as profound as her own had been.
Academically, that surprised her, but they hadn’t spoken since, so she hadn’t had a chance to examine what she’d caused, though in later years, she’d started to wonder just a little, what kind of person this spawn of hers had turned into.
Time to find out.
Cecilia brushed her hands off and walked into the hall, striding forward to time her hand hitting the knob of the door as the first chime dis-turbed the silence of the house.
“YOU ALL RIGHT?” Kerry asked softly, as they came up the driveway.
“Yeah,” Dar replied, desperately glad her lover was there with her.
She owed Kerry big on this one. “Shouldn’t take long.” Her eyes went to the white, neatly painted townhouse with black and gold trim. “She Eye of the Storm 87
might ask you to leave.”
Kerry’s eyebrows lifted. “Is it okay for me to tell her to kiss my ass?”
she inquired mildly.
Dar couldn’t help smiling. “It’s all right. She doesn’t know you, and God knows, she might have something she wants to say in private.” She paused. “Then again, probably not.” They got to the door and Kerry exhaled, then rang the bell.
The door opened as it sounded, and Dar’s mother stood there, dressed in a pair of soft, white cotton drawstring pants, and a silk shirt, with a delicate rose embroidery on one shoulder. She was barefoot, and even Kerry felt large next to her.
“Mother.” Dar’s voice was cool and even, with its best boardroom cordiality.
“Come in.” Cecilia pulled the door open and stepped back. “Ms. Stuart.” She inclined her head towards Kerry, who decided to kick her friendliness gene in its recalcitrant butt.
“Hello.” She let the door close behind her and looked around. “Wow.
What a nice apartment.”
“Thank you,” Dar’s mother responded politely. “Please. Sit down.”
She led them into the living room and indicated the couch.
Kerry circled the room instead, gazing at the walls. The precisely placed art hanging there had a certain geometric appeal and she decided she liked the colors. “That’s your work, isn’t it?” she asked Cecilia, not missing her lover’s slightly raised eyebrow.
Ceci had stopped on her way towards the other couch and regarded Kerry with a mildly surprised expression. “Yes, it is,” she murmured.
“Are you in the art trade, Ms. Stuart?” Her voice held a note of bemusement.
“No.” Kerry returned to Dar’s side and seated herself on the couch.
“I’ve spent a lot of time in Washington. The Museum of Art is a favorite spot of mine.” Dar’s eyebrow lifted a notch further. “You had a mini exhibit there last year.”
Cecilia felt very unsettled. “Yes, I did.” She decided to move the scene along. “Well, I would love to discuss art with you, Ms. Stuart, but there’s something I need to discuss with Paladar, so if you’d excuse us for a moment? There’s some ice tea on the porch if you’d like.” She watched the exchanged looks between the two of them, then Kerry rose.
“Not a problem,” she replied. “Dar, I’m going to go check my mail.”
“Check mine,” Dar responded, folding her arms over her chest.
Kerry walked out and the door closed behind her, leaving them looking at each other in silence.
Dar waited, having learned patience over the years and the value in letting others speak first. She studied her mother’s face, noting the new lines and the added silver in her hair, and withstood the same searching look in return.
“There’s no point in my going into long preambles, Paladar.” Ceci chose her words precisely. “I was asked by the family to speak with you 88 Melissa Good and, for reasons I can’t begin to understand, I agreed, though I certainly have no idea what good they thought it might do.”
Dar chose not to answer. She merely tilted her head to one side.
“Aunt May’s estate.” Ceci paused. “It gets signed over to you in total today.”
It was the last thing Dar expected to hear from her mother. “And?”
She injected a bit of puzzlement into her voice.
“There’s a concern. The estate might pass out of the family.” Her mother bit the words off. “To someone who is, perhaps, taking advantage of you.”
Dar blinked, going over the words two or three times. “Is that a reference to Kerry?”
“I would suppose.”
Dar felt anger easing the nervous dread out of her gut. She stood and walked to the fireplace, turned and leaned back against it. “In the first place, you can tell them from me, that I can leave my net worth to a tap dancing muskrat and they’ve got nothing to say about it.”
“Mmm.”
“In the second place, unlike Uncle Mike’s six bimbos, Kerry’s not a passing fancy.”
Dar’s mother glanced at her hands and pursed her lips.
“In the th
ird place, her damn trust fund is four million dollars.”
Cecilia stood up, regretting getting involved to an enormous degree.
“Well, that’s the point, Paladar. It’s a large amount of money, and frankly, I would have a concern regarding your involvement with that myself.” She took a breath to continue when Dar did something very surprising.
She laughed.
Ceci gazed at her in surprise. “What exactly are you finding funny?”
“The idiocy of people who are too stupid to do some basic research.”
Dar’s amusement disappeared and she let her anger steady into a dull burn. “The incredible arrogance of you to ask me here, after not bothering to talk to me for how many years? And worry about what I’ll do with a lousy inheritance, or who I share my life with.”
“Paladar.”
“You can kiss my ass, Mother, and tell the rest of the family they can do the same.”
“It was a justifiable concern.” Her mother’s voice rose.
Dar flipped a card through the air, watching it hit her mother in the chest. “Not if you’d bothered to find out who I am now.”
Cecilia glanced impatiently at the piece of white cardboard, then stopped and read it more carefully.
Chief Information Officer? Paladar. No. She exhaled softly. Dar Roberts. Goddess. Richard must have known. I’ll have his head for not telling me.
She tasted the knowledge that she’d made a fairly huge mistake.
Question was, should she acknowledge it, or let it pass? After all, there were just so many levels of hate Dar could feel for her, right?
Eye of the Storm 89
Her eyes lifted to met a cold, angry stillness looking back, but her sense of fairness won out, and she lowered her gaze, and her voice.
“You’re right,” she finally admitted, quietly. “I’m sorry, Paladar. I should have checked before I took on the responsibility. I wouldn’t have bothered to ask you to come here.”
Ceci expected an sharp retort, something spiteful. Something nasty.
