Tangled Memories. Marta Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ down with an audible click. “That’s where my mother and father met and married,” she said. “I should have thought that would occasion plenty of comment.”

      Of course it had. He hadn’t been old enough to care at the time, but he’d heard plenty about it later. Trey, taking a summer off to tour the country, had met a waitress in the wilds of Wyoming and married her in less than a month, then foolishly expected his father to welcome her. He should have known better.

      He was mildly amused at the expression on Deidre’s face, but maybe it was time to intervene. He didn’t care to be treated to another example of Deidre’s temper.

      “Has anyone seen Ainsley? I expected him to be here.”

      “I—I am here, Lucas.”

      Ainsley paused in the archway, looking as if he’d like any excuse to turn and go away again. Lucas couldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid the fireworks Deidre enjoyed, but he did wish Ainsley would sometimes act like a responsible grown-up instead of a shy kid.

      “We missed you at work today.” He tried to keep his voice even, but some of the exasperation he felt probably came through. Pushing Ainsley into a job as Lucas’s assistant when he was just out of college wasn’t the smartest move Baxter had ever made. The boy wasn’t cut out for the business world.

      Ainsley’s gaze evaded his. “I told your secretary I wasn’t well.”

      “You seem to have recovered.”

      “I thought I’d go for a walk, okay?” Ainsley flared up, sounding like a sulky teenager. “I always do that when I’m getting over a migraine.”

      “Of course you do, dear.” Eulalie patted the love seat. “Sit here and let me pour you some tea. Everyone knows how you suffer from migraines.”

      The look Eulalie shot at Lucas dared him to disagree. He wanted to. You’ve spoiled Ainsley with your constant coddling, and now you’re doing the same with my son.

      But he couldn’t say that. He’d been wrong about Julia, and the guilt would hang around his neck for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t risk being wrong about Jason.

      “This is Corrie,” Eulalie went on. “I knew you’d be back to meet her.”

      Ainsley nodded, polite but disinterested. He’d seemed detached from the fierce family discussions that had raged since Baxter broke the news.

      Lucas glanced at Corrie, to find she was leaning toward his son, listening to something Jason was saying, undoubtedly about horses. The tenderness on her face jolted him.

      Corrie didn’t have any right looking at his son that way. And Baxter didn’t have any right foisting this stranger off on the family. The least he could do was come back and deal with her himself.

      “Jason.” The desire to get his son away from Corrie was probably irrational, but he couldn’t help himself. “It’s time we were getting home, son.”

      The animation faded from Jason’s face as he slid off the seat. “Goodbye, Cousin Corrie. I’ll see you later.”

      Deidre’s lips tightened, but he silenced her with a glance. He didn’t require Deidre’s input. He could take care of his son himself.

      The way you took care of Julia? The small voice in his mind inquired.

      He turned to thank Eulalie, but she had become involved in arbitrating a heated exchange between Ainsley and Deidre, much as she’d done when they were small. Corrie’s eyes met his, and he realized from the amusement in them that she was thinking much the same thing.

      That jolted him. She shouldn’t look at him as if they understood each other.

      “Thank you for introducing me to…” There was the faintest hesitation in her voice, as if she balked at thinking of them as her family. “…to Mr. Manning’s family,” she went on smoothly. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

      He leaned toward her. “Of course you will. I wouldn’t think of missing dinner on your first night here. At Eulalie’s house, at eight. We’ve invited someone who knew Trey well.”

      And who won’t like your pretence any more than we do.

      Corrie’s polite smile seemed to stiffen. “I’ll look forward to it.”

      He could imagine. “Not so easy, is it?” He lowered his voice, not that the others would notice. They were well away with their own quarrel by now. “Always on your guard, pretending to be someone you’re not.”

      “I don’t have to pretend.” Her chin lifted, and her eyes challenged him.

      “I guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?”

      Before she could answer, Ainsley’s tenor voice soared out of the babble.

      “Stop trying to make me over. I’m not Trey, and Uncle Baxter is never going to treat me as if I am.”

      The silence that followed was deafening. Lucas felt the despairing frustration that his wife’s family so often brought to the fore. It was as if he were the only adult in a roomful of children. Why didn’t they just hand Baxter’s inheritance to the woman on a silver platter?

      Eulalie’s eyes were bright with tears. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ainsley. All I want is for you to be happy.”

      For a moment he thought Ainsley would flare out at his mother, but he retreated into sulky silence instead. Surprisingly, it was Corrie who returned them to a semblance of normalcy.

      “I’d really like to freshen up from the trip, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

      Recalled to her hostess duties, Eulalie hustled to her feet. “I’ll show you to your room.”

      He stepped back to let Corrie pass him. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

      And maybe by then he’d have at least a preliminary report from the private investigator who was supposed to be finding out everything there was to know about Corrie Grant.

      “That’s the lot of them.” Corrie leaned back on the four-poster bed, cell phone cradled against her ear. She’d just finished giving Ann Moreno a rundown of her reception. If she hadn’t been able to confide in her closest friend, she’d have burst. “And every one of them would like nothing better than to run me out of town.”

      “You didn’t go to Savannah to make them like you,” Ann said. “What matters is finding out about your parents.”

      She could always count on Ann for a sensible approach, and she felt a wave of longing to be sitting across from her at a scrubbed table in the café, chatting over the coffee cups.

      “I just hope someone’s willing to talk about them. So far I haven’t seen any signs of that.”

      “It’s early days yet. You’ll work it out. Meanwhile, don’t worry about anything here.”

      “Thanks, Annie. I couldn’t do this if you hadn’t taken over the café.”

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