Excerpt from
Where Is Papa's Shining Star?
Prologue
France
September, 1918
He remembered a flash of light. Blinding brilliance like the sun reflecting off the snow in the mountains where he’d skied with his college fraternity brothers. Searing heat. A burning more intense than he’d ever felt from the early afternoon sun on the sandy beach where he’d frolicked as a half-naked boy. He forced his eyes open in the light of midday, but there was nothing. The darkness, blacker than any he’d ever experienced, terrified him. His mouth felt full of cotton. “Water,” he begged hoarsely. “Please...in God’s name... water!”
The tin cup pressed against his lips was warm, and so was the water that trickled onto his tongue. “Who is it?”
“Rycroft, sir.”
“The others?”
“Dead.”
“My God.” Shock gave way to pain. He groaned.
“I thought you were, too, but then you moved. Rest easy, Captain Ashley. Help’s on the way.”
****
Brookston, New York
November, 1918
She sat unmoving, her rigid back pressed against the wooden slats of her mother’s low sewing chair. Her father caressed her small, delicate hands. “I’m so sorry, Lenore. I wish I could tell you that it’s a mistake, but here’s the telegram Mrs. Broome sent over.”
The young woman shook her head, gently at first, then so vigorously that her glossy black hair loosened from its pins and fell over her shoulders. “No. No!” She had been nineteen a few minutes ago when her father led her to the chair. Now, though she rocked her body rhythmically, reminiscent of her early childhood, her youth had fled.
****
Barnwell, Texas
May, 1920
“She’s a beautiful baby, Roberta. Just look at her.”
“I don’t want her. I never wanted her! I thought I was going to die. The pain was terrible!”
The man transferred his gaze from his new daughter to his wife. “Dr. Smithwick said you did very well.”
“Dr. Smithwick wasn’t lying here being ripped apart, and neither were you.” The woman’s attractive face twisted in anger.
“Roberta...”
“Get out, Albert. Get out and take her with you. And send in the nurse.”
He did as he was told. Cradling the infant in his arms, he walked into the nursery he had furnished alone and laid her in the white wicker bassinet. “You’re my best little girl, you know, my shining star. Never forget that, sweetheart. Never.”
The doctor paused at the door. “She’s a fine, healthy girl, Rycroft. Your wife’s all right, too.”
Albert Rycroft didn’t look up. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow to check on both of them. Meanwhile, the nurse can handle things. Roberta says she doesn’t want to feed the baby.”
“No, I’ll take care of it.”
The doctor sighed. “Well, it would be better if...oh, maybe not. I don’t know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He watched the new father bending over the cradle. “My beautiful little girl, my best little girl. You’re my shining star, you know. You’re Papa’s shining star.”
****
Brookston, New York
1921
Judge Amos Sutherland, recently retired from the New York State Supreme Court, turned the pages of the thick file on his desk as he contemplated his first case since returning to private practice. The will he had just finished reading for the second time was straightforward; the pending litigation seemed without merit. He had known Alan Ashley, Sr. and disliked him intensely. He wondered if the son, to whom everything had been left, was anything like the father, though it didn’t really matter. It was for Samuel Bernard, a former student and clerk, now counsel for the son, that he had agreed to serve as co-counsel when Ashley Senior’s nephews decided, belatedly, to contest the will. “I won’t argue the case for you,” he told the younger attorney. “Turning this over to me would be a clear admission that you don’t feel competent to represent your client.”
“I don’t. Frankly, I’m terrified at the idea of going up against Trotham and Dunbar.”
“All you have to do is prove your case.”
“I’m not in their league. I didn’t even go to law school.”
“You read law with me and passed the bar on your first try. Don’t sell yourself short, Samuel.”
“I’m just being realistic.”
“The will is straightforward. Everything belongs to the son.”
“I know that, but they’re saying he can’t successfully assume the directorship of Ashley Enterprises because he’s blind.”
“Can he?”
“Of course. He studied business at Harvard and graduated summa cum laude, then took an advanced degree before enlisting in 1918. He’s spent the past two years at the Institute for the Blind, learning Braille and every other method that’s available for adapting to a sightless world.” Sam pounded his fist into his palm once, then again.
“Is he as angry as you are?” The judge sat back in his cracked leather chair, his faded eyes boring into Sam’s.
“I’m sorry. I lost control.”
“Not a good thing to do, especially in the courtroom.”
“I know, and to answer your question, yes. Yes, Alan’s angry about everything. His blindness, the fact that his fiancée broke their engagement because of it, how my father has betrayed him...and I don’t blame him.”
“Perhaps not, but you’ll counsel him against displaying his emotions, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“All right. I’ve looked at the will. Now tell me why they think it can be broken almost ten years later, and how they plan to do it.”
“Percy’s and Geordie’s father was Alan’s uncle and a partner in Ashley Enterprises until 1910, when he sold his interest to his brother. My father moved up as second-in-command. Two years later, when Mr. Ashley and his wife were killed, Father took charge because Alan was still in school. He was also Alan’s guardian. That was eight years ago. But he should have known that Alan would step up as soon as he could.”
“Perhaps he didn’t want to know.”
The quick mottling of Sam’s neck crept into his face. “My father has always liked being in charge of everything and everyone.”
“He opposed your marriage, I understand.”
“That’s putting it mildly.
“But you married Ellen despite the opposition.”
“I have no regrets. She’s everything to me.”
“I’m pleased that you’re happy. Now about the cousins.”
“Their father died two years after Alan’s parents, and they ran through their inheritance within a few years. Now they see an opportunity to recoup their fortunes. They told my father that if they were in charge, he could remain in the directorship, but they’d draw the lion’s share of the profits after expenses.”
“Those profits are considerable?”
“Ashley Enterprises is worth several million dollars—without the subsidiary holdings.”
“How do you know?”
“Alan requested the books when he came back, and Jerome Vannoy, the comptroller, thinking that Alan was going to step in immediately, produced them. Alan and I went over them carefully before my father found out and told Jerome to get them back.”
“Were there any irregularities?”
“I’m not an accountant, but they seemed in order to me.”
“Tell me about Jerome Vannoy.”
“He’s a few years older than Alan. In fact, they knew each other slightly at Harvard. Alan seems to think he’s honest. I suppose I trust him as much as I trust anyone at this point.”
“So your father and the cousins are going after Alan on the grounds that he’s incompetent because of his disability.”
“I don’t want it to come to trial for a number of reasons, among them the fact that it would be an additional humiliation for Alan, in view of everything he’s experienced already.”
“I don’t think they have grounds to bring it to trial.”
“Their attorneys, Trotham and Dunbar, seem to think so.”
“Well, the legal-beagles will profit, in any case. What do they bill an hour?”
“I couldn’t begin to guess. More than I do.” Sam ran his hand through his hair. “I really need your help.”
“Young Mr. Ashley is willing to fight?”
“To the death, he says.”
“All right. I’ll speak with him. But remember, this is your case. Because of the Ashley name, it will get a great deal of notice all over the state. When you win it, your career will be assured.”
“Don’t you mean if I win it?”
“Unless these men know something we don’t, they haven’t a prayer.” He glanced at the young woman sitting a few feet away with her stenographer’s pad. “Did you get all of this, Miss Seldon?”
“Yes, sir, I believe so.”
“Make a typewritten copy and a carbon. I’ll want you to go with me to Rumers Crossing tomorrow. If your mother is concerned, assure her that Mrs. Sutherland will make a proper chaperone and that you won’t have time to get into any trouble.”
Lenore Seldon’s normally pale face took on more color. “I’m sure Mother won’t have any concerns, sir. How long will we be there?”
“A week, perhaps. I don’t think it’s going to take that long, but we’ll prepare for all eventualities.” He lifted his spare frame from the chair and addressed himself to Sam again. “Go back and tell young Mr. Ashley that he needs to decide on something for your father, whether it be a settlement or outright dismissal, and I’d advise you to learn whatever you can about where the loyalties of the others in the executive offices lie. If Ashley Enterprises needs to be restructured, it will fall to your friend to do it. He’ll need an independent audit of the books immediately. I’ll subpoena them if necessary.”
“I can’t tell you what a relief this is, sir. I was in well over my head.”
“Up to your eyebrows, perhaps, but not completely over your head.” The judge chuckled. “Don’t worry, Samuel. You were one of my brightest clerks on the court. I was sorry to lose you. Your practice is going well, I take it?”
“Ellen grew up poor, so she knows how to manage. We aren’t starving.”
“You’ll appreciate good times more, having experienced the lean ones.” He extended his hand. “All right. I’ll see you in Rumers Crossing tomorrow. There’s still only one hotel, I suppose.”
“It’s not elegant, but you’ll be comfortable enough. I’ll make your reservations as soon as I get back this afternoon.”
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Excerpt from
Finding Papa's Shining Star
Prologue and Chapter 1
Prologue
“When you adopt me tomorrow, will my name be Ashley?” The child edged closer to the man in the pinegreen wing chair, her eyes fixed on his as if he could see her.
“Yes, it will, unless you would rather not.”
“I want to be an Ashley. I want to be Annette Lenore Ashley. Girls should be named for their mothers, you see.”
“You were named for your mother, weren’t you? Roberta?”
“Alan, please…” The woman in the matching chair twisted her hands in her lap.
“Answer the question, Bobbie.”
The delicate face paled. “She’s dead, and she didn’t want me anyway.”
“You are very much wanted here with Lenore and me.”
The child knew he spoke the truth. From the moment he’d found her hiding in one of the
confessionals at the church in Greenfield, she’d known she could trust him. “So can I?”
“I’ll speak with Mr. Bernard before the hearing tomorrow.”
She smiled then. “And you can call me Annie, and I’ll…I’ll call you Pa.” She leaned against his knee. “Mum and Pa sounds nice together.”
***
Chapter One
New York, 1941
Annie Ashley woke with a start. The dream had come more often of late and left her feeling fragmented and a little afraid. She sat up, scanning the dormitory room which appeared unfamiliar now with all her things packed. She switched on the lamp and glanced at the clock. Six-thirty, still four hours before the commencement exercises and almost two until she could meet her parents for breakfast at their hotel. She was aware of a sudden desperate need to see them and feel their arms around her, to reassure herself that their love was still the one unchanged thing in her life. Though she’d been Annie for ten years, Bobbie remained alive in the recesses of her mind. No matter how hard Annie tried, Bobbie couldn’t forget that, as a child, she’d been abandoned twice by the very person she’d loved and trusted above all others.
Where are you now, Papa? Do you know that I’m twenty-one and about to graduate Vassar? Do you ever think of me, your best little girl...your shining star?
She turned off the lamp and lay down again. The light filtering through the drawn blinds cast shadows that undulated across the floor and danced eerily in the corners of the room she’d occupied for four years. She pulled the sheet over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Papa, you promised you’d come for me, and you came twice, but you didn’t take me. Why, Papa? I wanted to go with you so much. Why did you take Rebekah and leave me? I waited and waited for you, Papa. I’m still waiting, only now I couldn’t go. It would hurt Mum and Pa, and I couldn’t do that.
Annie threw back the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed, shivering in the chill of the early May morning. She remembered the winter mornings she’d waked in the long, icy room at the Home when the furnace wasn’t working, her exposed face stinging with cold. Even on good days there was no hot water upstairs, so she and the other girls always skimped on washing and rushed to the dining room where they could warm themselves in front of the cavernous wood-burning fireplace.
The chill of June mornings in Maine, where she’d spent two weeks every summer after her adoption, was a happier memory. She’d hurried to wash and dress just so she could be waiting on the stairs when her parents emerged from their own room. Pa always took the same house every summer, the one he said his parents had brought him to as a child. It sat right on the beach, and after breakfast Annie would run to the water’s edge and let the waves nibble her toes while she waited for Mum and Pa to come down.
Despite being blind, Pa was a fearless swimmer, and he’d insisted that she learn also. Mum was content to wade a little, although sometimes Pa could coax her farther from the beach. Sometimes they would stand holding each other while the waves rolled in around them, and Annie would watch them kiss. They were so very much in love, but she never felt left out. The three of them were, as Pa had promised, a very special family.
No trip to Maine awaited her this summer. Instead, she would be entering the world of business now, earning her own way. The job at Ashley Enterprises, if Uncle Trent hired her as his assistant, would mean that she could live at home, and she was counting on going home to stay.
She shook her head. She couldn’t think of him as Uncle Trent anymore, but rather as Mr. Young, vice-president of Ashley Enterprises, who wouldn’t hire her unless she was the best applicant. He did his job independently of Pa, who owned the company, which was how Pa wanted it. The fact that he’d watched her grow up, that she’d spent weekends with Aunt Jean and him on their wonderful farm, would mean nothing when it came to making the choice of his new assistant. She tried to tell herself that was how she wanted it. Ashley Enterprises didn’t deal in granting favors. Everyone was treated the same. She knew that from experience.
When she was fourteen, she’d begged to go to work with her parents in the summers, and they started her out with Mr. Sheeley in maintenance. He set her to mopping floors and scouring employee bathrooms and lounges, but she knew how to work, because she’d done the same things at the Home.
The next summer, Pa arranged for her to work in the employee lunchroom. When she declared that she’d made enough sandwiches and salads and washed enough dishes to last her a lifetime, he merely laughed before sending her to the kitchen to hunt up the butter cookies that their housekeeper, Mrs. Swane, hid in a different place every week.
The third summer she graduated to the mailroom where Rod—Mr. Rodman, Pa’s chauffeur before Mum came—ran her legs off. Then came the metal shop and the secretarial pool, and finally, the year she finished Arlington Hall, Pa let her work in his office. He was the hardest taskmaster of all.
She knew Ashley Enterprises well, loved it and wanted to be part of it, so she had to give a good account of herself in the interview next week. There were other jobs, of course. She had appointments scheduled with three businesses in towns around Rumers Crossing, but any one of them might mean living alone in an apartment.
The vision of her room at home elicited a visceral ache. It had been Pa’s when he was growing up, and he’d had it remodeled just for her. Within its cool, dove-gray walls, books strained against the glass doors of built-in bookshelves, which had been expanded more than once. The morning sun coming through the white sheers on a wide bank of windows made the roses that spilled over the upholstered window seat seem so alive she was sure she could smell their delicate scent. Over the light maple headboard, The Pink Lady looked down on a four-poster bed spread with a coverlet as white as winter snow on the lawn. The pink satin comforter spread across the bottom of the bed just matched the flowing dress of the picture’s subject. A chaise, two wicker chairs with overstuffed cushions that matched the window seat, and a spacious writing desk shared space on the thick silver-gray carpet.
Annie closed her eyes. She’d taken jealous and meticulous care of the room she considered her castle tower, running the carpet sweeper daily and scrubbing the adjoining white tile bath every Saturday until it gleamed like sunlit snow. She’d taken particular care of her castle knight, too, the shaggy, lumbering black dog rescued, like herself, from a dumping ground for the unwanted. Actually, he’d chosen her, with thumping tail and eyes full of love and devotion. Mrs. Swane called him a small horse, but she came under his spell, too. It would be good to drift off again at night with one hand stroking his massive head.
Sighing, Annie stretched and got out of bed. I’ll be home tonight, home to stay. Don’t come with me, Papa. You left me behind, now leave me alone.
****
Just before eight o’clock, she went downstairs.
Pa said he wanted to give me back my childhood,
but it lasted such a little time. I don’t want to be an adult, not yet, but I
can’t say that to him. He’d be disappointed in me. She glanced at her watch, then out the window
for the cab she’d ordered and saw it waiting at the curb. In the back, after
telling the driver where she wanted to go, she leaned her head
against the seat and closed her eyes.
Mum wouldn’t care if I never grew up. She’d let me stay her little girl forever. We’ve been through so much together, just trying to survive. Padoesn’t really understand what it was like for us living the way we did. He only knows that he forged ahead despite his circumstances, and he expects me to do the same. I know he’s right,but…if only time had gone a little slower…if only…
****
Alan Ashley lifted his wife’s glossy black waist-length hair out of the way so that he could
kiss the back of her slender neck. “Almost ready, my love?”
Lenore reached back to touch his smooth shaven cheek. “Almost, Alan dearest.”
“I don’t believe you slept well after we finally ended our marathon conversation. Weighty
matters shouldn’t be discussed before retiring.”
“It was something of a debate, wasn’t it?” She turned to face him.
“I believe it ended up that way, and we didn’t actually settle anything. In a few hours, Annette Lenore Ashley is graduating magna cum laude, but last night at dinner I glimpsed Bobbie again. She’s not ready to move on.”
“That’s what worries me, Alan.” Lenore sat down at the dressing table and began to twist her hair into its accustomed coil.
“Does it? Sometimes I almost believe that you’d keep her a child forever if you could.”
“Oh, Alan, of course I wouldn’t!”
“Her reluctance to embrace her new status concerns me also, but she’s stronger than you think. The end of her schooldays means taking her place fully in the adult world, and that in
itself is often frightening to some extent, even to a well-balanced young woman like our Annie.”
“I suppose I was apprehensive when I finished business school and began work in Judge Sutherland’s office, but I was excited, too. What did you feel when you first came home to take over Ashley Enterprises?”
“Despite my arrogance, I was filled with selfdoubt.” He moved closer behind her and put his lips against her neck again. “I don’t suppose I gained a full measure of courage as a whole man until we were married. Then, despite my lack of sight, I suddenly gained a vision of the future. You were that vision.”
“Perhaps we should have a talk with her when we get home,” Lenore said. She rose and
folded her arms around his neck.
“Tell her everything about her father, you mean? Insist that she put it behind her once and for all?”
“Perhaps not everything.”
Alan sighed. “We’re back to that.”
“I know you felt we should tell her when she finished high school and that I disagreed. Perhaps I was wrong.”
“I thought then that we were only putting off the inevitable, but we can’t go back.”
“I’m still afraid he’ll want her.”
“Do you think he’s ever stopped wanting her? Wanting his daughter? Still, all his contact is through Emory Roth, who won’t tell me exactly where Albert Rycroft is. ‘Somewhere in Palestine’ is all he’ll say.”
“I’d like to believe she’ll feel happier when she’s home again to stay. She’s missed Mrs. Swane’s attention and Prince’s companionship.”
“The old fellow is getting on. She won’t have him forever.”
“And that will break her heart, Alan. She’s lost so much.”
“No more than many others, including the two of us. You might consider instead that the world is before her with all its thrilling possibilities.”
“That would be the better way to look at things, wouldn’t it?”
“Infinitely.” He opened the glass on his wristwatch. “It’s almost eight. Annie will be waiting for breakfast.” He felt his way to the chair where he’d placed the new cashmere sweater he’d bought for Lenore despite her usual protest that she didn’t need anything. “You’ll want this in case the dining room is chilly.” He held it so she could slip her arms into the sleeves.
“Really, Alan, you hover over me more every day.”
“I suppose you become more precious to me every day.”
Lenore’s eyes filled. “What a lovely thing to say!”
Sensing her emotion, Alan drew her into his arms. “Your health has been a concern for me since what you experienced last year.”
“Dr. Sims assured you I was all right and that it wouldn’t happen again.”
“We didn’t expect it to happen at all, and after eight years…”
“We agreed to let nature take its course,” she murmured.
“Unfortunately, it did.”
“I wanted so much to give you a son.”
“It wasn’t meant to be, darling Lenore.”
“I prayed for a miracle, and I was so happy when I thought it was granted.”
“It just wasn’t a viable pregnancy, given your age and, more especially, in view of my
circumstances.”
“It was our baby, Alan.”
“And you are my life.”
She sighed. “If it had to end, I’m glad it happened early and that Annie was away at
school.”
“You’re still protecting her.”
“I know.” She lifted her face and received the expected kiss. “Perhaps, in a sense, I’m still running away from the past, too, but I was helpless to protect her once, and now…”
“You can’t shield her from life.”
“Is that what I’m trying to do?”
“I believe so.”
“Be patient with me awhile longer, please, Alan.”
“This is a day for celebration, not introspection.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we
go?”
****
“Didn’t you sleep well, Annie dear?” Lenore inspected the dark circles under the younger
woman’s eyes.
“Oh, Mum, I’m just excited about graduation, I suppose.” Annie kissed Lenore’s cheek, then Alan’s. “And starving for breakfast!”
In the hotel dining room, Alan removed a small box from his pocket. “We decided to give
you your graduation gift now,” he said, sliding the box along the table toward Annie.
“I don’t need a single thing, Pa, and you know it.”
“You’re tearing the wrappings as if you do,” he teased.
Annie rolled her eyes. “Your ears are like an amplifying system.” She gasped as she lifted the lid and saw a key nestled in cotton. “A car?”
“There’s a picture in there also,” Lenore said.
“It’s still in the show room, so if you don’t like it…”
“It’s…wonderful…gorgeous! Thank you both so much!” She jumped up and hugged them, eliciting polite stares from the other hotel guests. “I can’t believe it!”
“You’ll need transportation wherever you find employment,” Alan said, then added, “All your friends have had their own automobiles for years.”
“So I’ve never lacked for a ride,” Annie replied.
“You’ve shown a singular lack of interest in the things you might have had,” Alan observed, feeling the rim of his cup before tipping the tiny glass bottle of cream into it.
“I’ve had everything. What else could I have wanted?”
“I’m speaking of material things.”
“I didn’t need those either.”
Alan laughed. “I’ve failed miserably in all attempts to spoil you and Lenore.”
“I think you’ve made up for it now in one grand gesture,” Annie said. “Thank you. Thank
you so very much!”
****
After breakfast, Annie left her parents at the college auditorium and returned to her dormitory room for her commencement regalia. She switched on the lamp so she could see to adjust her cap in the mirror. The face looking back at her was almost haggard.
Excitement about graduation hadn’t made her look like this, and she was sure that Mum knew that. But she couldn’t confess to the recurrent dreams about Papa. Mum always knew that I never gave him up, even after he left me behind the second time. She knew I loved her completely, but she always believed that, given the choice, I’d go with Papa. I could tell she didn’t believe me when I said that I hated him after what happened that night.
Annie remembered how, a few weeks after Alan and Lenore were married, Alan had presented her with several options, including legal guardianship, but she’d chosen adoption.
“Please, I want you and Mum to adopt me. I want to belong here forever.”
He’d turned those cloudy, slightly unfocused eyes on her, and she felt he was seeing into her very soul. “If you’re quite sure that’s what you want, Bobbie.”
“You said we’d be a very special family.”
He nodded. “We will indeed.”
Seeing the invitation of his open hand, she placed hers inside, feeling the warmth and
strength of his fingers around hers. The tangled scarring on the backs of his hands, like bursting, dying stars spiraling to earth, fascinated her. Mum said they were part of the war injury that also blinded him.
“I want you to understand, Bobbie,” Alan said, “that you may change your name, but you are still yourself. You can’t run away from the past. I would do you no favor to let you try.”
Annie could hear her own reply as clearly as if the little girl she’d once been stood beside her now. “But bad things happened to Bobbie. I don’t want to be her anymore.”
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Excerpt from
The Showboat Affair
Release date: April 15, 2011
Chapter One
The Houston heat rising from the steering wheelof her silver sedan burned into her forehead as Jean Kingston leaned over it and tried not to cry. More than anything, she wanted to get out of the parking garage attached to Kingston Investment Associates, but she knew she wasn’t fit to drive safely, not until she brought her emotions under control. The scene just played out in her husband Rand’s luxurious office seemed somehow surreal.
“Jean, I want a divorce. I’ll let you file, but if you won’t, I will. You can have the house, and I’ll give you a good settlement. Well invested, it will allow you the same lifestyle as you have now.”
Randolph Kingston waited for his wife to speak, and when she didn’t, he leaned forward to emphasize the seriousness of his words. “Don’t tell me this comes as a surprise.”
She shook her head. “I’ve known about Cami for a long time. Are you going to marry her?”
“No, she’s...no.”
“But you’ll be together.”
He nodded curtly.
“Well, that’s that, I suppose.” She loosened her fingers from the arms of the rich burgundy leather chair, one of several in Randolph’s sprawling office furnished in the best money could buy, and consciously lifted her hands almost as if to indicate surrender.
He rose and came out from behind his desk. “It’s better this way, Jean.”
She shrugged. “For you anyway.”
He touched her arm. “For you, too. You know that.”
She stepped away from him. “It hasn’t been much of a marriage for a while, has it?”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
She looked at him. “I know you are, Rand. Always the perfect gentleman, that’s you.” She bit
her lip. “I’m sorry. Pretend I didn’t say the last.”
One corner of his mouth drew up in the semblance of a smile. “Forgotten.”
“I’ll probably sell the house. It was too large for two people, and I’ll just rattle around in it now. Is there anything you’d like?”
“Just the things from my study. I’ll send a truck for them.”
“There’s no rush.”
“I’ll let you know. I’ll call you when I take the house out of my name. When I transfer the money,
do you want Juliana to handle your investments?”
“I’m sure she’ll do well.”
“She’s good at what she does, Jean. She has a feel for the market.”
“She’s your daughter.”
“She’s yours, too. Our marriage counted for something when you consider how she’s turned out.”
Jean let her eyes drift over her husband of thirty-three years, seeing him as he’d been when
they met. Her college roommate liked to refer to him as Clark Gable. There was actually a small
resemblance, especially the pencil-thin mustache riding above his full top lip. Their only child resembled him in more than physical attributes.
“She’s more than willing to do it for you.”
Jean’s stomach contracted as if someone had slammed a fist into it. “She knows?”
“I spoke with her several days ago.”
“You told her before you told me?” Jean’s fingers curled. Her nails sliced into her palms, but the pain of betrayal was higher on the scale.
His expression revealed he knew he’d made a grave error. “Well, she’s known the situation for a
while.”
“Everyone knows the ‘situation,’ as you so delicately put it. You’re a married man having an
affair, and you haven’t made any secret of it.”
“I’ve tried to be discreet.”
“By spending most of your nights in your condo instead of at home? The condo you bought for a
woman who went to college with your own daughter?” Jean felt her face flushing as her anger
boiled over. “Discreet!”
“I’d hoped this could be a civil parting,” he said, his congeniality turning frosty.
“Civil? Oh, yes, of course, it will be, Rand. I’m the one people will talk about. ‘Poor Jean Kingston… after so many years … do you suppose she suspected?’ I’ll pretend I’m not aware of their gossip, I don’t need their misguided sympathy, their pity gushing like a fountain trying to drown me, until the water runs dry, and they finally move on to someone else.” She turned her back on him. “I’ll play my part, Rand, never fear. You’ll move on unscathed.”
“I’m really sorry, Jean.”
“So you’ve said.” She made herself walk, not run, to the door. “I’ll have Greg get in touch with you as soon as he’s done the paperwork.” She paused, her hand gripping the doorknob. “Unless, of course, you’ve spoken to him, too, and he’s already taken care of things.”
“He … I had to make him aware of the proposed settlement.”
If she hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn someone had brought his hand down in a karate chop between her shoulder blades. When she caught her breath, she said, “Then everything is taken care of as usual. Thank you, Rand.” She closed the door softly behind her.
I should have dumped him long before this. What a fool I’ve been all these years! I should never
have married him, given up my own life to live his…but did I really have a life then? I’m certain I
don’t have one now, so where does that leave me? She fished a tissue from her handbag she’d
bought just last week at Nieman-Marcus and blew her nose. I’m damned if I’ll be ‘poor Jean!’ The tears she thought she’d successfully held back now overflowed and streamed down her cheeks. But who am I besides Rand Kingston’s soon-to-be ex-wife? She brought the palm of one hand down on the wheel so hard it stung. Then she jammed the key into the ignition, breaking off the tip of one recently manicured nail, and backed out of the parking space.
She drove straight to Greg Thorne’s office but sat in the car long enough to repair her makeup and file the broken fingernail. Becky, the young receptionist who made no secret of her crush on her boss, smiled vacantly at Jean. “I’ll see if Mr. Thorne is available.”
Jean wanted to smack her. Becky knew who she was and also knew Greg was a long-time family
friend as well as her attorney.
“He’ll see you, Mrs. Kingston.”
Jean’s palm tingled. Oh, for just one quick opportunity to knock that condescending smirk from
Becky’s too-perfect face. She startled as Greg threw open his office door. “Jean! Come in here now, dear one!”
Becky’s smile faded. Jean tossed the receptionist a self-satisfied glance and sailed past her into the attorney’s office.
Greg hugged her. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Rand had it all worked out, didn’t he?”
Frowning briefly, Greg escorted her to the long leather sofa, then went to the compact bar she knew he kept well stocked. “Sherry?” Without waiting for her answer, he poured two glasses and handed her one. “I’m sorry, Jean.”
“I’m not. I don’t think I am anyway.”
“Still, it had to come as a shock.”
“He’s always come home before this.” She sipped from the glass. “He says he isn’t going to marry her.”
“She doesn’t need his money.”
Jean set the glass aside. “Her family owns half of Midland. Oil money.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Young career women don’t want to marry these days. They don’t have to. They can get what they want without a license.”
“Juliana finally married Brice. How long did they live together? Ten years?”
“Only because she turned up pregnant, and he fought her on an abortion.”
“Claire’s beautiful. She looks a lot like you.”
Jean’s face softened at the thought of her two-year-old granddaughter. “She’s smart, too.”
“Did Rand discuss a settlement with you?”
She shook her head and picked up the glass again. “I assume you already have all the
information.”
“So Rand didn’t tell you how much the settlement is?” Greg tossed back his glass of sherry
and set it down.
“No.”
He walked around behind his desk and sat down before he spoke. “A quarter of a million. You could ask for more.”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. How soon can things be finished?”
“Six months.”
“That long?” She took another sip, then looked up. “A quarter of a million which will, conveniently, be invested through Kingston Associates.”
“You can take your business elsewhere.” He chewed his bottom lip. “In fact, I’d advise it. Strongly.”
“Did you know he’d already told Juliana? Asked her if she wanted to manage the funds?”
“I’d expect that of him. He looks out for business.”
“He looks out for himself, too. No, Kingston Associates is good at what they do. I’ll trust them with my money.”
“I just thought under the circumstances you might want to distance yourself.”
“Aren’t your investments there?”
“Yes, they are, but I’m not in your situation.”
“What situation is that?” She smiled at his obvious discomfiture. “Never mind, Greg. We go back a long way. You don’t have to tiptoe around my feelings.”
He stood up and moved to sit beside her. “You’ve known for a long time how I feel about you, Jean.”
“You’ve been a complete gentleman.”
“Maybe I should have been something else.”
Jean felt his knee against hers and moved away. “You were just at loose ends when Mara left. You needed someone, not necessarily me.”
“What I said at the party was the truth. I’m in love with you.” He reached for her hand and folded it inside both of his.
She didn’t withdraw her hand immediately. “You came to my rescue when Rand and Cami were
caught in flagrante on the Parkmans’ terrace, and I appreciated the speed with which you got me out of the house before anyone realized I’d seen as much as I did.”
“I’m glad I was there.”
“I’m glad you were, too, Greg, but I made it clear to you then I wasn’t interested.”
“I’m not going to press you. This isn’t the time or the place, but someday you’ll be ready to let me into your life.” The attorney picked up a folder from his immaculate desk. “You can take the papers home, read them, and call me with any questions.”
“I don’t have to read them. I’m sure you’ve made certain everything is fair.”
“I’m Rand’s attorney, too, although in this instance one of my other partners is his attorney of record.”
“But you haven’t done me in, so to speak.”
His eyes flicked away from her, then back. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“Yes, I know. I’ll sign the papers now. I just want to put this behind me.”
“If you’re sure.”
She reached for the pen in the holder on his desk. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
Without bothering to read anything, she signed her name in the several places to which Greg
pointed. “I guess that takes care of everything for now.” He closed the folder. “How about dinner tonight?”
“Not tonight, Greg. Maybe later in the week.”
“Good. All right. I’ll call you.”
He kissed her cheek before she stepped through the door he’d opened just far enough, she thought, for Becky to see them. “Thanks, Greg. For everything.”
She tried not to smile at Becky’s flushed face.“Mr. Cameron is here,” the younger woman said in a snappish tone that pleased Jean.
“Nick, come in,” Greg said.
Stepping aside to let the other man pass, Jean noticed that his thick silver hair didn’t seem to go with his younger features.
“Oh, Jean, this is Nick Cameron of Cameron and Cameron. Nick, Jean Kingston.”
The man towering over the others in the office looked down at her and nodded. “Mrs. Kingston.”
Jean met his dark blue eyes, then dropped her own. “Mr. Cameron.” She didn’t offer to shake hands.
“Nick and I do some work together on the Bar Association Charity Ball,” Greg explained.
“I see.” Jean edged toward the door, unable to explain why she felt like a gawky schoolgirl.
“I’ll phone you about dinner next week,” Greg called as she slipped through the outer door.
“Fine, Greg.” She hurried toward the elevator with Nick Cameron's face in front of her.
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