Lost And Found Family. Leigh Riker

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СКАЧАТЬ with light brown hair and amber-brown eyes. Her long black dress, worn with diamonds, couldn’t be called anything but tasteful. And it was obviously expensive. “You look lovely tonight,” he said.

      “Thank you, that’s sweet.”

      Having delivered Emma to them, Christian excused himself to continue working the crowd—or to escape what he’d claimed was a slip of the tongue?

      “Emma.” Frankie turned to her, a hand on Melanie’s arm. “Join us.”

      Emma hesitated. She was already trying not to mind the brief kiss her husband had exchanged with Melanie. She’d seen that before. There was no reason to feel jealous but...

      “Melanie and I were just talking about you,” Frankie said.

      Oh, I’m sure.

      She and her mother-in-law had gotten along well enough before the accident, but Emma had never cared for the regular updates Frankie gave her about Melanie’s charmed life. She’d always wondered if Melanie got the same reports about her. Not long after she and Christian divorced, Melanie had remarried. She and her husband, a respected judge in Chattanooga Criminal Court, had four children.

      “I have a problem,” Melanie said, “and I need help. My twins are leaving the toddler stage, becoming little girls, and their room needs a total reorganization.”

      Emma had nothing against her—she didn’t know her well, though it was hard to avoid her in such a small social group. Melanie’s smile was a bit wry, as if she recognized their awkward situation. She seemed hopeful, and maybe a bit desperate.

      But then, so was Emma. She needed all the new business she could get.

      “I’m sure we can give you exactly what you want, Melanie. I’d be happy to take a look at your space,” she said. “That first consultation is free.”

      “Could we meet tomorrow? I’m eager to get started.”

      They made arrangements for the next morning, then Emma asked Frankie if she needed help tonight. But Frankie shook her head.

      “Melanie has already offered,” she said.

      They went off together, arm in arm. Emma stared after them for a moment.

      She glanced around the pavilion, which was packed with guests in gowns and tuxedoes and an army of waiters with trays of extravagant hors d’oeuvres.

      Emma couldn’t eat a thing. She turned and headed for the nearest exit.

      * * *

      EMMA HURRIED ALONG the path that wound through the park. The cool evening air soothed her heated cheeks, and she forced herself to slow her pace. A few moments alone might restore her inner balance.

      He can’t tell me what to do with my wife. Had he and Lanier been discussing another divorce?

      She didn’t notice where the path had taken her until she was near the park’s merry-go-round, its painted horses and wild animals still gleaming in the darkness.

      “I’ve been trying to catch your eye all evening, Emma.”

      Her pulse beat faster, but she forced herself to stay still.

      “Finally had to follow your glow. You’re like a firefly tonight.” She turned and Max Barrett gestured at her bronze gown.

      “Max, I meant to return your call—”

      “That would be calls,” he said with a rueful smile.

      She gazed at the horses frozen in midgallop. And remembered Owen on his favorite pony—because he looks like Daddy’s horse—the other children’s laughter, the music playing. She stared at the now-silent Wurlitzer calliope in the center.

      “Christian thinks it’s awful I haven’t made some arrangement with you.”

      “I wouldn’t say ‘awful’...” Then, backing off, Max switched to the topic that was clearly his passion. “These horses are fantastic, aren’t they? This carousel is a Gustav Dentzel frame. He was one of the early carvers in the Philadelphia style—mostly natural, realistic horses. Menagerie animals, too,” he said and pointed. “I especially like that big cat over there.”

      Her throat tightened but Emma forced herself to look at the magnificent lion with his neck arched, his mane tipped in gold leaf that shimmered in the moonlight. She studied the rest in turn, her gaze stopping here and there but always avoiding one in particular. “Did Dentzel carve these horses, too?”

      The subject seemed safe as long as it didn’t become personal again. She needed to catch her breath.

      “No,” Max said, “he died in 1909. These horses are new. They are wooden, though, just like Dentzel’s.” He pointed again. “See that one? Looks like—”

      “Christian’s horse,” Emma said around a lump in her throat.

      No longer able to avoid it, she finally glanced at the black-and-white horse on the outer row. Its painted saddle blanket was red edged in gilt. “That was always...whenever we came here...my son’s first choice.”

      Mama, look. I’m going up and down and all around.

      Hold on tight, Owen. Don’t let go.

      My horse is higher than yours! See? I can reach the brass ring—

      Always the daredevil.

      Careful, sweetie! You’ll fall.

      No. I’m the best rider. Like Daddy. Unable to stop herself, Emma had smiled then. Uh-huh, he’d insisted. When I’m bigger I can ride General by myself and he can be my horse, too.

      With a strangled sound, she turned away from the rail. That night at the barn he’d wanted to ride. Christian would have put him up, as he sometimes did, then led the horse around the indoor ring where Grace and Rafe had been.

      “Emma?” Max touched her arm.

      “Just feeling a little off balance tonight...”

      “I didn’t mean to upset you. What an idiot I am for showing you these horses, bringing up the pony at my shop—”

      “No, I came out here first. Maybe I had to.”

      She drew away, hoping to regain her composure. Certainly she could never go to the barn again. When I’m bigger...

      “Emma,” he murmured, “I do understand. Really.”

      Something in his voice made her turn around. She gazed into his eyes, a clear brown that showed his past sorrow.

      “Odd, isn’t it,” she said, “how every word seems to take on different meaning. No one knows how to talk to me.” Unless, like the women at the pavilion, they were hinting at her guilt. “Or I to them.”

      “I was the same way after my wife died.”

      “I’m sorry, Max. How long ago?”

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