скачать книгу бесплатно
“Come on, you’re in the same house.”
“Diana didn’t like Dog Harbor. Too dull. They hardly ever came after they got married.” Though he’d come here a lot afterward, probably to lick his wounds in peace. “I don’t know what they got up to elsewhere.”
“Rather like watching only one story thread on a soap opera.” Vicki leaned one hip against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. She wore a dress of crinkly white parachute fabric that revealed a lot of slender, barely tanned leg. “I bet you wish you could TiVo the rest of the episodes sometimes.”
“I have plenty of other things to keep me busy.” Annie scrubbed at a stubborn grease spot. “What they did was none of my business.”
“I’m not so sure.” Vicki regarded her silently for a moment. “I’d think that since it’s your job to keep Sinclair happy, what he’s up to is your business.”
Annie threw down her sponge. “My job is to keep the house clean and make sure there’s milk in the fridge when he shows up.” Her voice rose, along with frustration and humiliation at being forced to endure Vicki’s inquisition. If they were on neutral territory she could tell her to get lost, or simply walk away. But here, Vicki was a guest of her employer, so she couldn’t.
“Now, now, don’t burst a blood vessel.” Vicki’s eyes were brightening, if anything. “I suspect there’s a lot more to you behind that placid smile.” She studied Annie’s face for a moment, as Annie’s blood pressure rose. “I’ve seen Sinclair looking at you, too.”
“Why wouldn’t he? I’m his employee.” This was almost unbearable. She was lying with one side of her brain, while the other madly considered Vicki’s bold statements. Was Sinclair really looking at her differently? And how would Vicki know? She hadn’t seen him for years. Probably she was just trying to wind her up. “It’s hard to wash these dishes with you distracting me.”
“So leave them. They’re not going anywhere.”
“I can’t. I have to get dinner ready soon and they’ll be in the way.”
Vicki tilted her head to the side. “It can’t be easy slaving away in the kitchen while everyone else reclines on the patio and sips champagne. I think it would drive me half-mad.”
“It’s my job. We all have one.”
“Do we?”
“Sinclair works very hard at his business.”
Vicki’s eyebrow shot up again. “You are loyal. And I’m sure you’re right. In fact, sometimes I wonder if he’d ever do anything else unless someone forced him into it.”
“Is it wrong to enjoy your work?”
“I think it’s ideal.” Vicki frowned.
“Do you work at an auction house?” Annie couldn’t resist asking. She’d been wondering if Vicki had a real job.
“Between you, me and this wilted stalk of celery, I’m between gigs right now.” She took a bite of the celery.
“I suppose you’re independently wealthy.” She rinsed the dish and put it in the rack.
“Something like that.” Vicki shot her a fake smile. “Gotta dash. It’s been interesting chatting with you.” Annie felt herself relaxing as Vicki moved toward the door with her characteristic floaty walk. “And I still think there’s something going on between you and Sinclair.”
The next morning Katherine asked Annie to help her search the attic. Mercifully, Sinclair was out playing golf with a business prospect, but unfortunately Vicki was there, her violet eyes seeming to peer below the surface of every human interaction.
“This set of hunting knives is probably worth something.” Vicki held one of the tarnished blades up to the light. She jotted something in a little notebook. “I could find a home for it if you like.”
Annie frowned. She’d noticed Vicki taking an interest in many of the items. She’d filled quite a few pages with notes.
“That’s probably a good idea. What would we do with them anyway?”
“They’re just moldering away up here.”
“They are part of the Drummond family history.” Annie felt called upon to suggest that Sinclair might want them someday. Of course it wasn’t her place to say that explicitly.
“True.” Katherine looked thoughtfully at an odd contraption of leather and woven rope. “Though perhaps the Drummonds need to shed some of this unhelpful baggage in order to make room for wonderful new things. That’s what my friend Claire says. She’s mad about feng shui.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Vicki made another note in her book. “Sometimes an object will sit in one place for a hundred years, doing nothing but collect dust, when in another person’s hands it could enjoy full and active use.”
Annie tried to picture some of these objects taking on new lives. Did anyone really have a use for old celluloid shirt collars? Then again, future generations might one day enjoy seeing the crazy things their ancestors wore. “I think Sinclair’s children might have fun going through these things one day.”
Katherine looked up as if shot. She paused a moment, then nodded. “You’re absolutely right, of course, Annie. We’ll put everything back where we found it.”
Annie couldn’t resist a glance at Vicki, who glared at her for a split second, then assumed a forced smile.
She enjoyed a brief flash of pride at defending Sinclair’s inheritance. “Did you hear back from the other branches of the family?” She knew Katherine had sent them both letters.
“Not a word. I phoned about a week after sending the letters. I left a message with some elderly Scottish person at the family estate in the Highlands, but no one has called back. For the Florida branch, I left a message on some robotic voice mail system so I don’t even know if anyone heard it. Exasperating, really. It would be pointless finding one part of the cup if we can’t convince them to produce the others.”
“Do they even know about the cup?” Annie sorted through some mismatched plates.
“They do now, if they got my letters. I know there’s bad blood between the branches of the family, but it’s time to put that behind us. Sinclair’s father is gone, and so are most of the Drummonds of his generation. Which is proof enough that the family needs to change its luck. The ones in charge now are all Sinclair’s age, or close, and have no reason to feel enmity toward each other. Young people these days don’t carry centuries-old grudges for no reason.”
“Or do they?” Vicki asked enigmatically.
“Sinclair doesn’t.” Katherine shook out a brocaded jacket. “Of course, the flipside is that he shows no interest whatsoever in the family or its history.” She sighed and let the jacket fall in her lap. “Including the pressing need to produce the next generation.”
Annie cringed. If she wasn’t on birth control she might have had the next generation of Drummonds growing inside her right now. They certainly hadn’t stopped to chat about contraception in their rush to tear each other’s clothes off.
“There’s still plenty of time.” Vicki looked up from making notes on a set of spoons. “He’s young.”
“I know, but I’m not. I want to enjoy my grandchildren while I’m healthy and energetic enough to have fun with them.”
Annie wanted to laugh. Katherine Drummond barely looked forty-five. Though that was probably due to the art of a number of fine surgeons and dermatologists. She was probably somewhere in her late fifties. Hardly old, however you looked at it.
“Sinclair will find the right woman eventually.” Vicki peered into a small wooden chest.
“Will he? I’m not so sure. He found the first two by himself and I think it’s time I took over. He needs women who aren’t so driven by personal ambition. Sinclair doesn’t want to set the world on fire or fly around in private jets every weekend. He needs someone quiet and simple.”
Annie’s soul nodded in agreement. Maybe she really was perfect for Sinclair, and they’d all realize it if she only waited patiently.
Vicki laughed. “I’m not sure many women want to be described that way. I know I wouldn’t.”
“I don’t mean simple-minded, just someone without complex ulterior motives. Sinclair is a simple man, brilliant—”
“And gorgeous….”
“But simple.” Katherine and Vicki said it together, then laughed. Annie had a feeling Sinclair would hate being discussed in this trivializing fashion. Didn’t they care if he loved the woman?
“So I take it this means I’m not supposed to sink my own claws into him.” Vicki lifted a cloudy etched-glass trophy and peered at it. Or pretended to.
Katherine shrugged. “For all I know, you’re the breath of fresh air he needs. At least you’ve always been a straight shooter and everyone knows where they stand with you.”
“Some would say that’s my least attractive feature.”
“Only if you don’t want to hear the truth.” Katherine smiled.
Annie’s mind raced. Had Vicki been telling the truth about how Sinclair looked at her? Maybe he really was still attracted to her. Or perhaps even had deeper feelings.
Heat rushed inside her and she walked to the far end of the attic to bury herself in shadows. If these women had any idea what was going through her mind—and who knew what powers of perception Vicki possessed beyond those she boasted—they’d be scandalized. As it was, they talked about Sinclair’s love life right in front of her as if she didn’t exist. It obviously didn’t cross Katherine’s mind that her beloved son might have had an affair, no matter how brief, with the woman who served the brie en croute and refilled her wineglass.
She let out a quiet sigh.
“He didn’t seem to like Lally much, did he?”
“Not at all. I think that shows excellent taste on his part.”
“She’s from a very good family,” said Katherine with conviction.
“Is that important?”
“I think so. Don’t you?”
“Not in the least. I’ve always secretly dreamed of marrying one of the dastardly Drummonds, despite the family’s dubious reputation.”
“Oh, Vicki. You and Sinclair would make a striking couple.”
“So I was telling Annie.” Vicki shot a glance at her, where she hid in the shadows. “She completely agreed.”
Katherine clapped her hands together and laughed. “Well, then, maybe things are moving in the right direction.”
Vicki glanced at Annie again, as if seeking her gaze, but Annie kept herself busy rummaging through a tall chest of drawers. Was Vicki deliberately trying to torment her? Maybe she took pleasure in the fact that she could have Sinclair if she wanted to, and Annie couldn’t.
Whoever said life was supposed to be fair? Her grandmother’s ominous words rang in her ears. If she wanted to keep her sanity, she needed to forget that wild afternoon of lovemaking ever happened.
If only it were that easy.
Five (#ulink_2bd827ab-1ace-5643-9292-17e38135406f)
Her heart pounded with trepidation as she approached Sinclair. He’d been gone for much of the past week, out sailing, fishing or playing tennis. She might suspect he was trying to avoid someone, if she didn’t already know that was true.
But she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.
I’m crazy about you.
No, she wasn’t going to say that, though the thought almost drove a manic laugh to her lips. She drew in a deep breath as she opened the door to the sitting room. “Sinclair?”
He was reading alone, in front of the big, carved fireplace. No fire burned, since it was downright hot and the house, being ancient, had no air-conditioning. He looked up from his newspaper. “Hello, Annie.”
Her insides melted. Why did he always greet her by name? Did he know that it half killed her to hear her name—boring as it was—fall from his mouth in that deep, warm tone? It would be so much better if he just uttered a curt “What?”
“Um.” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ears. Then glanced behind her. She didn’t want anyone to overhear what she was about to say. “It’s about Vicki. Do you mind if I close the door?”
He frowned slightly, and curiosity appeared in his eyes. “This sounds mysterious.” He glanced at the door. She took that as an invitation and quickly shut it.
“She’s been up in the attic with your mom and me, looking through all the old stuff.” She paused, wondering how to say this next part.
“I know. That’s why she’s here, ostensibly.” He leaned toward her slightly, and she felt the increased closeness almost like a hug. Which was ridiculous, since she was still several feet away.
“It probably isn’t my place to say anything, but I couldn’t keep quiet because I know the house and everything in it is important to you.”
He regarded her with no expression. Probably thought she was nuts. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t say anything. In some ways it was none of her business. On the other hand she was the housekeeper, which, taken literally, could mean she was responsible for keeping the house from being looted. “Vicki’s been taking detailed notes on a lot of the items in the attic, and I’ve seen her researching them on her laptop.”
“She’s an antique dealer.”
“I know. I’ve also seen her looking at auctions on eBay. I think she might be planning to sell some of the items.”
“Perhaps my mom has asked her to. There’s way too much junk up there.”
She shook her head. “I heard her bring the idea up, and your mom said we should put everything back where we found it, to save it for your children.” She didn’t mention her own part in helping Katherine to that decision.
“Typical.” He shook his head. “Why does everyone have to have children? Would it be such a tragedy if this branch of the Drummonds died out with me? Put it all on eBay. That’s what I say.” A wry smile played about his lips. “But I do appreciate you worrying about the fate of our old junk. It’s very thoughtful.”
Was he making fun of her? He certainly didn’t seem to care whether Vicki took everything home in her suitcase. Maybe he really didn’t want children and everything in the house would end up at an auctioneer one day. “You should have children.”
She gasped when she heard her own words on the air. Sinclair sat up slightly in his chair, startled. “I can see you feel strongly about it. May I ask why?” Humor glittered in the depths of his eyes.
She wished she could melt into the Persian carpet. Because you’d be a great father. Strict, but kind. Because children would bring out the child buried inside you. “I don’t know. It would be a waste, that’s all. And your mom would be very disappointed.”
“She’ll survive. I don’t live my life to please other people.”
“Don’t you want children?” Why did she keep digging herself further into this hole? Sheer burning curiosity drove her to ask.
“I used to, once.” He looked up at the window. Then his brow furrowed. “But I don’t intend to be a single father and apparently there isn’t a woman alive who can put up with me.”
“That’s not true.” Her heart squeezed. Did he really feel so totally unlovable? “You just haven’t met the right person yet.” The light played in his dark hair and across his bold cheekbones. If only she could tell him that he had met the right person and she was standing here in front of him.
But he’d told her to forget their magical afternoon ever happened. He wasn’t interested in her. He’d lost control for a short while, and now that his sanity was back he wanted nothing from her. Well, other than freshly laundered sheets and homemade dinners.
His brow had furrowed slightly and an odd expression played across his sensual mouth. “Maybe you’re right.” He looked away sharply. “I don’t know.”
Tension thickened in the air. Her fault. She’d come in here and started this far-too-personal conversation after accusing one of his old friends of fraud. She’d be lucky if they didn’t fire her. “I’d better go make dinner.”
“Yes, you’d better.” That glint of amusement twinkled in his eyes again. “Before you make any more rash and unsettling statements.”
Something hovered between them. Unspoken words. Feelings that weren’t supposed to be felt. At least she felt them. Maybe he just wished she’d leave him in peace.
She turned and hurried for the door before she could make things worse.
During dinner, conversation turned to an upcoming dance to be held by a music mogul celebrating his twentieth wedding anniversary.
