The Heiress. Cathy Gillen Thacker

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СКАЧАТЬ had come straight from the offices of Modern Man magazine, and was dressed, as usual, in pleated khaki trousers and a short-sleeve linen shirt perfect for the balmy September weather. Bridgett, a financial advisor, and noted author in her own right, was wearing a trim black skirt and silky black-and-white cardigan set. Grace smiled. The two of them looked so strikingly handsome together. Chase, with his wavy dark-brown hair, lively slate-blue eyes and tanned athletic presence. Bridgett, with her auburn hair, deep chocolate eyes and slender feminine frame. And more important, Grace thought, they were happy. And so much in love with each other, it filled her heart with joy.

      Grace sat down and spread her napkin across her lap. “I didn’t get anywhere with him, either.”

      “So he’s still on the yacht.” Chase returned to his own seat after helping Grace with her chair.

      Grace nodded at both Bridgett and Chase, marveling again at how happy—how very much in love—they looked. “Yes,” she said quietly. “But you’ll be relieved to know that your father’s not drinking so much as brooding.” Feeling sorry for himself, angry at the world, at her.

      Chase scowled as he opened the menu. “I’d go try and talk to him myself but I want to slug him.”

      Having already decided what she wanted—the crab soup and a salad—Grace closed her menu wearily. Chase was her strongest defender, as well as her first-born and oldest son, but in this case he was also dead wrong. She regarded her son steadily and said, “This isn’t your fight, Chase. It’s mine.”

      Chase clenched his jaw, at that moment looking very much like his incredibly strong-willed and stubborn father. “Wrong, Mom.” Fierce resentment gleamed in Chase’s slate-blue eyes. “When Dad betrayed you, he betrayed the whole family.”

      Grace sighed and shook her head. “You still have to forgive him,” she advised calmly.

      “Why?” Chase challenged. “You obviously haven’t, and it’s been what—more than twenty years now?”

      What could Grace say to that? It was true. All these years and she hadn’t been able to put it out of her mind, hadn’t been able to believe Tom’s stepping out on her was merely a cry for help. But what if she’d been wrong? What if Tom’s lovemaking with Iris was as emotionally unsatisfying as her tryst with Paulo had been? Had she thrown it all away, refused to ever trust Tom again, for nothing?

      CHARLOTTE WAS in the library, updating her social calendar on the computer Iris had given her and taught her how to use, when Richard walked in. He’d spent the afternoon playing tennis at the club, but was now dressed in his customary suit and tie. Knowing now was as good a time as any, Charlotte broached the subject that had been on her mind constantly for days, before he could leave for that evening’s dinner-meeting with their accountant.

      “I want to hire a private detective to locate Daisy.”

      The look in his eyes becoming pure resentment, Richard’s jaw clenched. “It’s out of the question.”

      “Why?” Gearing up for battle, Charlotte saved the data she had just entered and watched as Richard opened the wall safe in the library. “We can afford it.” The growing success of the family antiques business, and their financial stake in it, had seen to that.

      Richard released a long breath and turned to Charlotte in exasperation, “Daisy will come home when she’s ready.”

      Would she? Charlotte wondered. “She’s been gone for days now,” Charlotte pointed out, unwilling and unable to suppress her worry. “We haven’t heard a word from her.”

      “Which, given her likely mood, is probably just as well.” Richard moved the handgun and box of ammunition he insisted they keep for their personal safety to one side and withdrew a fat envelope of cash. He took out a number of bills and returned the envelope to the safe, setting it on top of Charlotte’s jewelry case and copies of their insurance papers, wills and real estate deeds. “Right now, Daisy is behaving like a temperamental child.” Richard shut the door to the safe, covered it with the painting and slid the money into his wallet before looking at Charlotte once again. “And I for one am glad Daisy is not here misbehaving for all our friends to see.”

      “I still want to find her,” Charlotte retorted steadily.

      “And I still say no.”

      Richard gave Charlotte a look to let her know the conversation was closed, then exited the room. Seconds later, the front door shut behind him. The big house was cloaked in silence.

      Charlotte stared at the photos of family that decorated the shelves to the right of the heavy antique desk. She didn’t know when or why or even how it happened, but the truth was indisputable now. Somewhere along the way, she had failed both her daughters. Perhaps even their son, Connor, too. During the crisis of Iris’s pregnancy, Charlotte had been so certain she and Richard were doing the right thing, keeping the affair and pregnancy from ten-year-old Connor, and sending Iris to that austere convent in Switzerland to have her baby in secret. Iris hadn’t wanted to go, hadn’t wanted to give Daisy up, but Charlotte and Richard had worked together to convince Iris that her life—indeed, all their lives—would be ruined if she didn’t do as they said.

      In return, Charlotte had promised Iris that she and Richard would love Daisy and bring her up as their own. Iris would never have to worry or wonder what had happened to her baby—she would be able to see Daisy every day because they would grow up as sisters. And Charlotte had kept her promise. She had loved Daisy every bit as much as she had loved her own two children, if not more. But she had also known in her heart of hearts that Daisy was her first—maybe her only—grandchild. And consequently, she had tended to be too lenient with Daisy, as grandparents were wont to do. Whereas Richard had gone the other way and been too strict. Poor Daisy had been caught in the middle from day one, as their adopted daughter. No wonder she’d floundered around and felt there was something amiss. Because, Charlotte thought fiercely, there had been.

      Now, Daisy knew the truth.

      She knew they had all lied to her.

      And she couldn’t forget and she couldn’t forgive.

      Was Daisy ever going to come home? Charlotte wondered.

      And what would she do when she did?

      CHAPTER FIVE

      IT TOOK JACK ONE MONTH, two days and sixteen hours to find out where Daisy had run off to, and another half day to travel to Nevada. When he finally made it to the crummy studio apartment she had rented at the edge of town, he was mad as hell, and exhausted to boot. And she didn’t look much better when she opened her door to him. Her fair skin held the golden glow of desert sun and she was dressed as sexily as ever, in snug, worn, navel-baring jeans, tangerine tank top and western boots. Her wavy hair was as clean and silky-looking as always and caught up in a clasp on the back of her head. But there were shadows beneath her eyes and a weariness in her body language that hadn’t been there before.

      Not that she was about to let him know that, however, Jack noted as their eyes clashed. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

      Jack took the open door for invitation and followed her inside. The place was a mess. Although it was nearly noon, what looked like a breakfast of a glass of milk and a sweet roll sat on the table. The sofa bed was still pulled out and unmade. There were clothes, shoes and toiletry items scattered all over the place. He shut the door behind them, noting the СКАЧАТЬ