Garden Of Scandal. Jennifer Blake

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СКАЧАТЬ saying things you don’t mean—”

      Was she? If so, it felt good. “I’m saying what should have been said a long time ago. You think I killed Howard on purpose and have been telling people so for years. You feel I should have gone to jail, that maybe I still should. Ivywild is a substitute, and you don’t care who you hurt so long as you keep me shut up here where I belong.”

      The older woman came slowly erect. Eyes narrowing, she said, “All right, then, since you brought it up yourself. I know you murdered my Howard. You never were the right wife for him, not from the first. You thought you were better than my son—smarter, sharper—and you even made him believe it. You were always idle, always dreamy-eyed and artistic, reading or playing with that disgusting pottery mud out in the shed. What’s more, you were no proper mother to his children. I dread to think what Marcia and Evan will say when they hear what you’re up to now.”

      “And you’ll make certain they do.” The pain in Laurel’s chest was sharp as she thought of her son and daughter hearing the ugly things coming from her mother-in-law’s mouth.

      “They have a right to know,” the woman said, compressing her lips. “But you were never smarter than my Howard. And you’re sure not so smart now if you can’t see this Alec person for what he is.”

      “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know Alec or anything about him.”

      “Any fool can figure it out. All you have to do is listen to the things his brother is saying all over town.”

      Alec’s brother. Dread for what might be coming moved along Laurel’s nerves, though she refused to let Mother Bancroft see it. “And what is that?”

      “Gregory Stanton told Zelda herself, down at the beauty shop, that this Alec of yours lived with an older woman out in San Francisco. Seems he started as her gardener, but wound up a lot more than that before it was over. She even married him, the silly fool. And when she died, she left him all her money.”

      “No,” Laurel whispered. The protest lacked conviction. Howard’s sister, Zelda, was always the first to hear everything.

      “Yes, indeed. Ask him if you don’t believe it. Just you ask him!”

      There was gloating triumph in the other woman’s face. Laurel turned away from it since she couldn’t deny the rumors. How could she, when they had come from Alec’s brother, his brother who was dying?

      When her mother-in-law had gone, Laurel wandered around the house, too disturbed to think of dinner, unable to settle anywhere. She didn’t want to believe what had been said about Alec, yet it made a terrible kind of sense. Why else would he appear out of nowhere to help her? What other reason could he have for slaving so hard? People didn’t do something for nothing—that had been one of Howard’s maxims. More often than not, it had turned out to be depressingly true.

      She thought of Alec’s concern for her, and the appreciation she had seen in his eyes. Fake. Why should he feel such things for someone her age? No reason unless it was because he wanted something from her.

      Laurel crossed her arms over her chest as she paced. She had almost believed him, almost let him get to her. She felt like such a stupid, sentimental fool.

      He was gone, then. History. She would pay him for what he had done so far and send him on his way.

      Yet that didn’t seem enough somehow. She wanted to pay him back for the ache of betrayal inside her, for making her feel things she didn’t want to feel, had never wanted to feel again.

      Not that she was in love with him, or anything like that. How could she be? She hardly knew him.

      But he had gotten to her. For him, she had taken a small step out of her protective isolation. She had almost been willing to risk a bigger one.

      She was so angry. She could feel the rage simmering, circulating through her like a poison in her blood. How long had it been since she had felt that strongly about anything? She had almost forgotten what it was like. In a strange way, it felt good, as if she were really alive.

      So much life inside her. Alec had said that. But he had been an old woman’s darling, a gigolo.

      A gigolo. Was it really possible?

      It must be, had to be. There was no other explanation.

      She reached up to remove the elasticized cloth band that held her hair, dragging it free of the length and stuffing the band into her jeans pockets. She ran her fingers through the heavy strands as if that would help cool her temper. No, she wasn’t going to fire Alec Stanton. That wasn’t good enough. It wouldn’t help her feelings one iota.

      It would be much better if she let him work like a dog, doing all the things Ivywild required, then gave him nothing in return except his hard-earned wages. Let him charm and cajole; it would get him nowhere. Let him waste his time, thinking he had another gasping, panting older woman ready to fall into his arms. Then, when he was done, she would smile politely and send him on his way.

      Fall into his arms. God, but what a thought. Was that really what he wanted of her? Maybe she could lead him on, just a little, just enough to…

      No. How stupid could she get?

      Still, it would make him think he had won, wouldn’t it? When she got rid of him later, he might feel as used and as enraged as she felt now.

      Could she do it? Did she dare?

      Probably not, but it was a fascinating thought. Entirely too fascinating. That should tell her something, but she wasn’t sure just what.

      As she passed through the dining room, she caught sight of her reflection in the tall windows beyond the heavy mahogany table and chairs. It had grown dark outside without her noticing, turning the window into a mirror. In it, she looked pale and wild with her hair flying around her. Maybe it was a good thing her mother-in-law had come while Alec was not there, after all. If he saw her like this, he would think she was crazy.

      Yes, and maybe he would be right. Moving to the window, she put her hand on her reflection, staring into her own glittering eyes. Then she lowered her lashes and bent her neck to let her forehead rest against the cool glass.

      She didn’t want to feel like this, caught once more in pain and guilt and, yes, despair. She had gotten over all that, had been comfortable, almost, in her numbness.

      Of course, she had not felt a great deal before Howard died, either. Hers had been a jailbreak marriage right out of high school; she had needed to get away from home, where her mother drank and screamed at her and her father. The irony was that her parents had died in a car wreck just seven weeks after the wedding.

      Howard. Her heart felt heavy as she thought of him. He had loved her with silent, dogged devotion, and she had been grateful. Affection and compassion had kept her with him. Sometimes she had wondered about the grand, death-defying passion she read about in books but didn’t think she was capable of feeling.

      If she closed her eyes, she could remember the last quarrel with her husband. It had been no great thing, though it had seemed important at the time. Howard had wanted to buy his son a pickup truck, since his own father had bought him one when he was fifteen. He didn’t see anything wrong with letting Evan drive up and down the back roads before he had his license. But Laurel had known Evan wouldn’t be satisfied with that. СКАЧАТЬ