The Key Trilogy

by Nora Roberts

  “You’re going over there tonight,” Malory said. “Why don’t you take a tip from Simon just this once and enjoy being with someone who so obviously enjoys being with you?”

  “I’m going to try.” She picked up the tape again. “It helps to know I’ve got a chaperon. Two, actually, counting Moe.”

  “Sooner or later, no matter how fond Brad is of Simon, he’s going to want to see you alone.”

  Zoe passed Dana the measuring tape and picked up her drill. “Then I’ll worry about that, sooner or later.”

  More sooner, later, and right this minute, Zoe thought when she was alone again.

  She knew that with a physical attraction this intense, they were bound to come together. But she could, and she would, decide the time, the place, the tone. The rules. There had to be rules, just as there had to be an understanding between them before that intimate step was taken.

  If Bradley Vane was indeed one of her forks in the road, it was vital to be certain that neither of them ended up lost, alone, and bleeding at the end of the trail.

  Chapter Seven

  SIMON’S excited call interrupted Zoe’s debate over earrings. Should she go with the big silver hoops, sort of carefree sexy, or the little marcasite drops she’d splurged on last summer, more demure and sophisticated?

  These were the details that set the tone for a woman’s mood, her outlook, her intentions for an event. A man might miss them, she thought as she held one of each pair up to her ears, but a woman knew why she was wearing a particular pair of earrings. Or shoes. Or why she’d chosen a particular bra.

  These were the building blocks for the dating ritual. She set both earrings down and pressed a hand to her stomach. God, she was dating.

  “Mom! Come quick! You gotta see this.”

  “Just a minute.”

  “Hurry up! Hurry, it’s pulling in the driveway. Man. Oh, man! Come on, Mom!”

  “What is it?” She darted toward the living room in her bare feet. She couldn’t decide on the shoes until she’d decided on the earrings. “For heaven’s sake, Simon, we have to leave in a few minutes, and I’m not—” Her jaw dropped, mimicking her son’s as she looked out the front window with him at the black stretch limo sliding in behind her ancient hatchback.

  “It’s the biggest car I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

  “Me too,” Zoe replied. “He must be lost.”

  “Can I go out and see?” He grabbed her hand, tugging on it as he did when particularly frantic. “Please, please, please! Can I go touch it?”

  “I don’t think you should touch it.”

  “A man’s getting out.” Simon’s voice dropped to a reverent whisper. “He looks like a soldier.”

  “He’s a chauffeur.” She laid a hand on Simon’s shoulder as they peeked out the window together. “That’s what they call people who drive limousines.”

  “He’s coming to the door.”

  “He must need directions.”

  “Can I just go out and look while you tell him how to get someplace? I won’t touch it or anything.”

  “We’ll ask.” She took Simon’s hand and walked to the door.

  Simon was right, she thought as she opened the door. He did look like a soldier—tall and straight, with a military bearing in his black uniform and cap.

  “Can I help you find someone?” she asked him.

  “Ms. Zoe McCourt? Master Simon McCourt?”

  “Ah.” She tugged Simon a little closer to her side. “Yes.”

  “I’m Bigaloe. I’ll be driving you to Mr. Vane’s this evening.”

  “We get to ride in that?” Simon’s eyes went wide and bright as twin suns. “Inside?”

  “Yes, sir.” Bigaloe gave Simon a quick wink. “In any seat you like.”

  “Sweet!” He pumped a fist, gave a hoot, and would have charged to the limo if Zoe hadn’t hauled him back.

  “But we have a car. And a dog.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Vane sent this.”

  Zoe looked down at the note Bigaloe held out, recognized the stationery. “Simon, you stand right here,” she ordered, and released his hand to open the envelope.

  The single sheet of letterhead read:

  Don’t argue this time either.

  “But I just don’t see why . . .” She trailed off, undone and defeated by the desperate plea in Simon’s eyes. “We’ll be out in just a minute, Mr. Bigaloe.”

  “You take your time, ma’am.”

  The minute she closed the door, Simon threw his arms around her waist. “This is so awesome!”

  “Yes. Awesome.”

  “Can we go now? Can we?”

  “All right. Get your jacket, and the present we made for Bradley. I need my purse.” And my shoes, she thought. It looked like it would be the marcasite earrings tonight.

  The minute they were out of the house, Simon made a beeline for the car, then skidded to a halt to wave wildly at the Hansons, who stood on their front porch.

  “We get to ride in a limousine!”

  “Isn’t that something?” With a wide grin, Mrs. Hanson waved back. “Just like a rock star. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

  “Okay. This is Mr. Bigaloe,” Simon announced when the driver opened the door. “He’s going to drive us to Brad’s house. That’s Mr. and Mrs. Hanson. They live next door.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Bigaloe tipped his cap, then offered a hand to Zoe. “The dog can ride up with me, if that suits you.”

  “Oh. Well, if he’s no trouble.”

  “Look at that, John.” Mrs. Hanson gave her husband’s hand a quick squeeze. “Just like Cinderella. Just hope our girl’s smart enough not to go running off when the clock strikes.”

  There were little glass vases with fresh flowers beside the tinted windows. And little lights, like faerie lights, streamed along the floor and the roof.

  There were a television and a stereo, and buttons to work everything on a panel just above her head.

  Everything smelled like leather and lilies.

  Simon was already crawling over the long seat along the side to poke his head through the opening to the limo’s cab and peppering Bigaloe with questions.

  Zoe didn’t have the heart to stop him. And it gave her a moment to try to adjust.

  After that moment she gave up. It would take her a year to adjust.

  Simon came sliding back. “Moe likes it up front, and Mr. Bigaloe’s letting him stick his head out the window. And Mr. Bigaloe says I can touch anything, because I’m the boss. And I can have a soda from the ice place over there if you say so, ’cause you’re the boss of me, and I can watch TV! In the car. Can I?”

  Zoe looked at his bright and dazzled face. On impulse, she caught that face in her hands, gave him a loud, smacking kiss on the mouth. “Yes, you can have a soda. Yes, you can watch TV in the car. And look, look up here. You can make the lights go on and off. And there’s a telephone.”

  “Let’s call somebody.”

  “You do it.” She picked up the phone and offered it. “Call Mrs. Hanson. Won’t she love that?”

  “Okay. I’m going to get a soda, and turn on the TV, and call her so I can tell her.”

  She giggled with him, and played with the controls, and drank a ginger ale just so she could say she had.

  When they arrived at Brad’s, she took Simon’s hand before he could reach for the door handle. “Mr. Bigaloe’s supposed to come around and open it,” she whispered. “That’s part of his job.”

  “Okay.” When the door opened, Simon popped out and looked up at Bigaloe. “That was really good. Thanks for driving us.”

  “It was a pleasure.”

  “I guess you could tell it was our first time in a limo,” Zoe said when he helped her out.

  “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed driving anyone quite so much. I’ll look forward to taking you home when you’re ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Wait until I tell the guys.” Simon grabbed the leash and
let Moe pull him to the door. “They’re not going to believe it.”

  Before Zoe could tell him to knock, he was pushing the door open and shouting for Brad. “Brad! We watched TV in the car and called Mrs. Hanson and had sodas. And Moe rode up front.”

  “Sounds like a busy ride.”

  “Simon, you’re supposed to knock. Moe!”

  The dog had already made a dash for the great room and the sofa.

  “He’s all right,” Brad told her as Moe leaped on the cushions and stretched out like a furry sultan. “We’re getting used to him around here.”

  “We brought you a present.” Dancing in place, Simon thrust the box into Brad’s hands. “Mom and I made it.”

  “Yeah? Let’s go back to the kitchen and open it up. Just let me get your coats first.”

  “I can do it. I know where they go.” Simon yanked off his jacket and bounced on his toes until Zoe handed him hers. “Don’t open it until I’m there.”

  “Okay.”

  “I want to thank you for sending the car,” Zoe began as they started toward the kitchen. “Simon’s never going to forget it. It was a big thrill for him.”

  “Did you enjoy the ride?”

  “Are you kidding?” She let out a laugh that was still tinged with wonder. “It was like being a princess for twenty minutes. Except we played with all the buttons and the television, so I guess it was more like being a kid for twenty minutes. But you didn’t have to do something like that, go to all that trouble.”

  “It wasn’t any trouble. I wanted to do it. I knew Simon would get a kick out of it, and I didn’t want to worry about you driving home in the dark. And,” he added as he pulled a bottle out of a silver bucket, “I wanted you to be able to relax and enjoy this really nice champagne.”

  “Oh. Even without the note you sent it would be hard to argue about all that.”

  “Good.” He released the cork with a cheerful little pop and was pouring the second flute when Simon ran in with Moe behind him.

  “You gotta open the present now. It’s a homewarmer present.”

  “Housewarming,” Zoe corrected, and hooked her arm, the way she often did, around Simon’s shoulder. “A belated one, to welcome you back to the Valley.”

  “Let’s see what we’ve got.” He undid the bow, feeling a bit foolish, since he already knew he would save the lacy white ribbon and the little spray of tiny red flowers she’d tucked into it. She’d stamped or stenciled silhouettes of those flowers on the simple brown box, and had nestled the gift inside on a bed of white tissue sprinkled with glitter.

  “You sure know how to wrap a present.”

  “If you’re going to give somebody a gift, you should take the time to make it nice.”

  He took out the tri-colored candle in a squat, clear jar. “It’s great.” He sniffed. “Smells terrific. You made this?”

  “We like to make stuff, right, Mom? See you have to melt the wax and then add the smelly stuff and junk. I picked out the smells.”

  “For the holidays,” Zoe explained. “The top layer’s apple pie and the middle’s cranberry, with Christmas tree at the bottom. There’s a tile in there to set it on. The bottom of the jar gets hot.”

  He took out the white tile with cranberries painted on each corner.

  “Mom painted the berries, and I put the glaze stuff on.”

  “It’s terrific.” He set the tile on the counter and the candle on top. Then bent down to hug Simon. When he straightened, he grinned at the boy. “You may want to look away.”

  “How come?”

  “I’m going to kiss your mother.”

  “Gack.” Though Simon covered his face with his hands, there was a warmth in his belly.

  “Thank you.” Brad laid a light kiss on Zoe’s lips. “All clear, kid.”

  “Are you going to light the present?” Simon demanded.

  “I am.” Brad took a long, slim tool out of a drawer and lit the wick. “Looks great. Where did you learn to make candles?”

  “Just something I picked up. I’ve been experimenting. I’m hoping to get good enough to carry a line of candles and potpourri and that kind of thing in the salon.”

  “I would carry something like that at HomeMakers.”

  Zoe stared at her candle. “You would?”

  “We’ll be stocking a lot more items like decorative candles after the expansion. You’ll have to show me some of the others you’ve done, and we’ll talk.”

  “Is it okay if I go in the game room?” Simon asked. “I brought back Smackdown, so we can have our rematch.”

  “Sure. There’s another game loaded. You can switch it.”

  “Are you going to come play now?”

  “I’ve got to start putting dinner together, but you can go work up an appetite. I want you hungry. I had the frog legs flown in special.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Giant frog legs. From Africa.”

  “No way.”

  “Or we can just have steak.”

  “Frog steak!”

  “Naturally.”

  On a mock scream, Simon tore out of the room.

  “You’re awfully good with him,” Zoe said.

  “He makes it easy. Why don’t you sit down and—” He broke off when Simon’s shouted “Holy cow!” burst out of the game room. “He found the new game.”

  “Bradley.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I have to ask you for a promise. Don’t say all right yet,” she cautioned, turning her glass round and round by the stem as she studied his face. “It’s important, and if you take the time to think about it first, I’ll believe you’ll keep your word.”

  “What do you want me to promise, Zoe?”

  “Simon—he’s so attached to you. He’s never had . . . somebody like you pay attention to him, not this way. It’s getting so he’s depending on you paying that attention. I need you to promise that whatever happens with us, whatever way it turns out, you won’t forget him. I’m not talking about riding in limos. I’m asking you to promise that you won’t stop being a friend to him.”

  “He’s not the only one who’s attached, Zoe. I can make you that promise.” He offered his hand. “You’ve got my word.”

  She took his hand, squeezed it as the tension that had built inside her while she made her request dissolved again. “All right. Well.” She looked around the kitchen. “What can I do?”

  “You can sit down and drink your champagne.”

  “I ought to be able to help with those African frog legs.”

  He cupped the back of her neck with his hand, kissed her, not quite so lightly, not quite so casually as he had when Simon had been in the room. “Sit down, and drink your champagne,” he said again, flicking a finger at her earlobe. “Nice earrings.”

  She gave a quick, baffled laugh. “Thanks.” Though she still felt as if she should be helping, she perched on a stool at the bar. “Are you really going to cook?”

  “I’m going to grill, which is entirely different. All the Vane men grill. If they didn’t they’d be drummed out of the family.”

  “You’re going to grill? In November?”

  “We Vanes grill year-round, even if we have to chip through the ice, brave blizzards, risk frostbite. However, it happens I have this very handy deal right here on the range.”

  “I’ve seen those in magazines.” She watched him fire up the built-in grill on the stovetop. “And on TV, on some of the cooking shows.”

  He tucked potatoes already wrapped in foil around the flame. “Just don’t tell my father I used this instead of standing outside like a man.”

  “Lips are sealed.” She sipped champagne while he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “You made these?”

  He considered for a moment as he set the platter on the counter in front of her. “I could lie and really impress you, but instead I’ll dazzle you with my honesty. They’re from Luciano’s, and so’s the chocolate bomb for dessert, and the lobster tails.”


  “Lobster tails? Luciano’s?” She selected one of the canapés, slipped it between her lips, and moaned as the flavors melted on her tongue.

  “Good?”

  “Amazing. It’s all amazing. I’m trying to figure out how Zoe McCourt came to be sitting here drinking champagne and eating canapés from Luciano’s. It doesn’t seem real. You are trying to dazzle me, Bradley. And it’s working.”

  “I like seeing you smile. Do you know the first time you really smiled at me? When I gave you a stepladder.”

  “I smiled at you before that.”

  “Nope. Not really. God knows I wanted you to, but you seemed set on misunderstanding and taking offense at every second word out of my mouth.”

  “That’s—” She cut herself off, then let out a laugh. “Probably true.”

  “But I cagily won you over, or started to, with a fiberglass stepladder.”

  “I didn’t know it was a ploy. I thought it was considerate.”

  “It was a considerate ploy. You need more champagne.”

  She debated with herself while he went to get the bottle. “You intimidated me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You intimidated me, still do, a little. And the house intimidated me. The first time I came here, to meet Malory, and saw you. I walked into this big, beautiful house, and there was the painting you’d bought.”

  “After the Spell.”

  “Yes. It was such a shock to see that, and to be here. My head was spinning. I said something about having to get back home for Simon, for my son, and you looked down at my hand, saw I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.”

  “Zoe—”

  She shook her head. “And you got this look on your face. It set me off.”

  “Apparently you started misunderstanding me right from the get-go.” As an afterthought, he topped off his own glass. “I’m going to tell you about the painting, and that’s going to give you a very big advantage in this relationship we’re starting.”

  Dating. Relationship. Her head was going to start spinning again. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You will. When I saw that painting for the first time, well, that was a stunner. There’s Dana, my best friend’s kid sister. Someone I cared about a great deal.”