A Proposal Worth Waiting For. Raye Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ was trying to perk the party up, to generate some enthusiasm among the people crowding close to the fire, trying to get warm.

      “Come on people. Dig deep. Think back. Recall patio parties and fireplace sing-alongs from your early days. Think of the potential here.” She looked at the faces turned her way. “Come on, Lyla,” she said. “What would you do if you owned this place?”

      Lyla smiled, looking dreamy, and stepped out into the light. “I see this property as a setting for an entertainment center. I’d set up a stage and put on theatrical performances, drawing audiences down from the Bay Area and up from Los Angeles.”

      “Lots of luck on that one,” the Texan chortled. “Both of those are long drives. You’ll get an audience of ten or so per show.”

      Lyla shrugged elaborately. “I’ll start with that. But we would grow. Word of mouth...”

      “Here’s my plan,” Phoebe chimed in happily. “I would love to have a spiritual retreat for our friends. Some are show-business people, some are politicians. They could come here and be refreshed by nature. I would put in a natural swimming pool right here, with a waterfall and vines hanging over it. I would have Greek statues all around the water.”

      “That sounds like Hearst Castle.”

      “Yes. I love Hearst Castle.”

      “That’s okay if you’re as rich as Hearst was,” the Texan said. “Otherwise, better aim a little lower, I’d say. Stop dreaming.”

      “A human must dream,” Andros protested grandly. “We have a dream too, me and Nina. We would make this place into a first-class destination resort for Mediterranean clients, people who want something different. Our restaurant would be the core project, of course. We would make the best Greek restaurant in the world, right here, an old-fashioned supper club. And we would turn the house into a hotel....”

      Nina chimed in, telling them about her ancient recipes handed down through the family grandmothers. “Old-country charm supported by modern technology,” she declared. “We have such plans.”

      “No way,” the Texan said dismissively. “You’re all aiming to go broke in the first year.”

      “Oh yeah?” Frank retorted. “Then what’s your idea, cowboy? A dude ranch?”

      “Hell no. I have no interest in drawing other people here. The first thing I’ll do is hire a geologist and a mining engineer and start drilling holes.”

      “Holes?”

      That got everyone’s attention and they all stared at him raptly.

      “Sure. We would tear this place apart. I’m bettin’ on gold, lady. There was a pretty good vein that tapped out in the nineteenth century not far from here. I’m bettin’ we can track it down and...”

      “Are you serious?” Marc said, frowning fiercely.

      “California gold. That’s what the state is known for. There’s gotta be some somewhere. I’m bettin’ on these here hills.”

      “You’re crazy,” Frank said, and four or five other voices joined in, each with a different view of the possibilities of finding gold.

      “How about you, Torie?” Marge asked as the argument died down. “What do you and Carl have in mind?”

      Torie tried to deflect the question. She didn’t want to get caught up in this. “You’ll have to ask Carl himself for that.”

      All eyes were turned her way.

      “We’re asking you,” Frank pointed out.

      “Me?”

      “Sure. Aren’t you involved?”

      “Oh. Sure.” She cleared her throat. What the heck could she say? She had no idea what Carl would want. Everyone was waiting. She felt cornered.

      But then it came to her—not Carl’s dream, but her own. It was a picture of what Shangri-La had been twenty years before when she’d been a child. She realized now how much she’d loved it, how central it had been to her universe—the core of her being—the place that had molded her identity.

      “If I had this place all to myself,” she began, staring off at the moon drifting off over the ocean and leaving a trail of silver behind, “I would build a trellis along the walkway at the top of the cliff and grow wild roses all through it.”

      She went on, caught up in the memories, and conjured up every detail of what the place had looked like in its glory days, when she was a child. Just bringing back those pictures made her heart sing. She smiled as she talked and wondered if this was what love felt like.

      Marc grimaced as Torie began, tempted to go look for Carl while he knew she was occupied. He had to stop falling for the spell she seemed to weave so easily in his head and in his body. But he hesitated, and once she’d started talking, he was really listening to her words. Frowning, he concentrated. What she was saying sliced through him like a knife. The picture she was painting was one he recognized. It fit his childhood.

      She knew this place. She’d been here before.

      He looked over to see if his stepmother had noticed, but her attention was wrapped up in smiling at Jimmy. That made his stomach turn and he swore softly, shaking his head. Then he looked back at Torie.

      Who the hell was she anyway?

      * * *

      Torie came out of her reverie and looked around. Everyone was staring at her and she felt her cheeks heating up. What had she said that seemed to have enthralled them all?

      Her gaze met Marc’s. He looked as though he couldn’t believe what he’d been hearing, and then he jerked his head in a way that told her he wanted to talk to her privately. Something in the look on his face made her think she might want to comply this time.

      She waited until the conversation began to buzz around the fire again. And when no one seemed to be paying any attention to her, she rose and slipped out of the firelight, meeting Marc on the walkway through the palms.

      “What is it?” she said as she came up to him.

      He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at her. “Who are you?” he demanded.

      She drew in her breath and her pulse began to sputter. “I’m...I’m just Torie...”

      “Torie who? What’s your real last name?”

      She started to speak and he stopped her.

      “Don’t give me that Marino nonsense. Your real last name.”

      She shook her head, looking away. The masquerade hadn’t lasted very long, had it? “Listen Marc....”

      “No, you listen. That little tale you spun out there by the fire was a perfect description of what this place used to look like twenty years ago. How did you know that?”

      She tried to smile but his eyes СКАЧАТЬ