The Trophy Wife. Sandra Steffen

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СКАЧАТЬ peer into the backyard. A tiny bit of color caught her eye. For lack of any clear plan, she meandered to the edge of the formal-looking path.

      Other than the ornamental and showy variety, there weren’t many flowers in the garden anymore. Once upon a time, her mother had spent hours on end filling the garden with lush green foliage and flowering plants native to California. For the past ten years, the gardening had been another of poor Marco’s responsibilities. He managed to keep it fairly neat and tidy, but the riot of beautiful yet casual colorful flowers was but a memory these days.

      Amber bent down. The tiny pink blossoms nearly hidden from view were more than a mere memory. Somehow, the plants had survived all these years of neglect. Curiosity sent Amber to her knees. From there, it was easy to get down on all fours and stretch out until she could reach the weeds growing behind the ornamental shrubs that had taken the place of her mother’s flowers.

      From this angle, Amber discovered more delicate blooms hidden among the weeds. Intrigued by the tenacity of the little plants, she ignored the hot sun at her back and the hard ground beneath her knees. Careful not to injure the shoots themselves, she tugged at the weeds that somehow had failed to choke them.

      Footsteps sounded on the path. She didn’t look up until she heard Inez Ramirez’s voice.

      “I brought you some iced tea. I see I should have brought the sunscreen. What are you doing, besides getting sunburned and dirty?”

      Amber opened her mouth, but the longtime Colton housekeeper rushed on, as she always did.

      “You are supposed to be relaxing. You’re on vacation.”

      “I’m too restless to relax.”

      “Your swim failed to help?”

      Amber shrugged. Swimming alone wasn’t much fun, and it certainly wasn’t stimulating. She swept a hand toward the far corner of the courtyard. “Remember how beautiful the garden looked, Inez, back when my mother loved to tend it?” She didn’t say, “back when she loved to tend us all,” but she could tell from the look on Inez’s pretty, expressive face that she was thinking the same thing.

      Inez didn’t believe in feeling sorry for herself, and she didn’t allow those around her to wallow in self-pity, either. Placing her hands on hips that had rounded over the years, she lowered her chin and raised her eyebrows. “If you would get serious about finding a husband and having babies, you would be too tired to be bored.”

      Amber rubbed the dirt from her hands then brushed a blade of grass off her thigh. Finding a man and making babies was Inez’s answer to every problem. “Men are after two things, Inez: Sex and money, not necessarily in that order.”

      Inez crossed herself, her lips moving in silent prayer. Amber couldn’t be certain whether she did it for Inez and Marco’s two beautiful daughters, Maya, who had recently had a beautiful baby girl, and Lana, who had been distracted lately, or for Amber. “Not all men,” she said when her litany was completed.

      Amber reached for another weed. “Name one.”

      “My Marco. And your father and brothers are good men.”

      Amber shook her head. “Okay. Now name one man who fits that description and also isn’t married or related to me.”

      As far as Amber was concerned, Inez’s silence spoke volumes. Recalling the sound she’d heard a while ago when a car had pulled into the driveway on the other side of the sprawling estate, she asked, “Who’s here, Inez?”

      If she’d been looking, she might have noticed the change that had come over the older woman’s features. She certainly would have seen the sudden glint in those dark brown eyes and been suspicious of the way the wheels suddenly seemed to start turning behind them.

      “Oh,” Inez said casually, “someone to see your father.”

      Before Amber could question further, the older woman was hurrying toward the wide French doors that led into the house. Sighing again, Amber turned her attention back to the weeds.

      Tripp Calhoun’s footsteps echoed on the gleaming tile floors inside the Coltons’ spacious home, the sound changing to a muted thud as he stepped onto a richly colored rug. He stopped before a massive stone fireplace and viewed the leather sofas and large armoire that undoubtedly cost more than he made in a month. Not a thing was out of place in the entire room—except maybe him.

      Memories had washed over him when he’d pulled through the wrought-iron gates leading to Joe and Meredith Colton’s estate. He’d been fifteen when he’d first set foot on the grounds, angry, rebellious and scared to death, though he’d hidden the fear well, the way he’d learned to hide most emotions back then.

      Meredith Colton had seen right through him. To this day, he didn’t know how she’d done it.

      He fiddled with the clasp on his watch, slipped the band over his hand. Starting to pace again, he looped the watch over a finger and twirled it in a nervous gesture. He didn’t remember the room being so austere. Hell, he could have been looking at a picture in one of the dog-eared magazines in his waiting room.

      They called this place Hacienda de Alegria. House of Joy. There didn’t appear to be much joy in it anymore.

      Tripp hadn’t been back often over the years. It wasn’t as if he’d been one of Joe and Meredith’s real kids, or even one of their adopted children. He’d been a foster child. Not that he wasn’t thankful. Joe and Meredith had saved him from the streets of L.A., given him a home for one life-altering summer. Where he was today and who he’d become was due to their influence. They’d put up a good share of the money for college and med school. Tripp owed them, big-time and he’d worked his tail off to make them proud.

      Pausing at a marble-topped table, he picked up a photograph. The two young boys in the picture looked to be about eight and ten. They were the youngest Colton children. He’d only seen them a couple of times, so it wasn’t surprising that they didn’t look familiar. Their mother, Meredith Colton sure should have looked more familiar, though. And yet, she didn’t. Oh, she was as beautiful as ever, but the image he’d carried in his mind of the woman who’d taken him in was in sharp contrast to the cool, brittle woman in the photograph. Something had happened to this family years ago, and no one had been able to fix it.

      The heavy thud of footsteps behind him drew him around. Inez Ramirez smiled as she approached, muttering that Joe was going to be tied up on the phone for some time yet. Tripp expected Inez to suggest he come back another time. Instead, she bustled over, retrieved the photograph from his hand, and, returning it to the table, said, “Everyone is fidgety today. Go. Wait out by the pool. Get some sun and fresh air.”

      Inez had aged during the seventeen years since Tripp had stayed here. Her black hair now had a wide streak of gray that started at her forehead and disappeared in the bun at her nape. She ushered him through the living room and into the courtyard. “You wait out there. You relax.”

      She was still as bossy as ever.

      “I’m thirty-two years old, Inez. Not six.”

      “Thirty-two is a good age, I think.”

      “A good age for what?”

      Her smile was smug. It put him on edge, because a smile like that always meant that a woman had something up her sleeve.

      She СКАЧАТЬ