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“That was part of it,” she admitted.
She stared into the darkness as despair returned. The burden of caring for her mom had fallen on her. Kathleen couldn’t deal with illness. Or anything else, if she didn’t want to. Her sister had been spoiled, but Sara knew it was partly her fault. It had been easier to do everything herself than cajole the other girl into helping.
It had been the same with Conrad. Tyler had taken on the responsibilities of the man of the house as he grew older. Between the two of them, she and Tyler had made most of the decisions involving their family. They had grown close because of it.
“Here we are,” Cade said, breaking into her musing. “Stacy’s asleep. I’ll carry her inside.”
“I can help,” Sara volunteered.
She opened doors so Cade could carry his daughter inside. In the child’s bedroom, Sara watched as he slipped Stacy’s coat and shoes off. The child had come dressed in pajamas beforehand. Leaning down, he kissed the smooth forehead and pulled the covers up. He was the most caring man Sara had ever met.
She moved back from the doorway when Cade stepped into the hall and closed the door.
“How about a cup of coffee?” he asked.
She hesitated. It was close to midnight. A dangerous hour. “All right,” she heard herself say and was surprised. She hadn’t meant to say that at all.
Downstairs she stood at the kitchen counter which, as in her place, divided it from the hall that connected the living quarters. Cade’s town house was much less formal than the one she was in. The walls were sunny yellow in the den, a soft doeskin beige in the kitchen and dining room.
The furniture was old and comfortable. She suspected some of the pieces were antiques. If so, they had been restored to prime condition by an expert hand.
“My brother Rowan refinished that piece and gave it to me and Rita as a wedding gift,” Cade said, seeing her gaze on a maple secretary with inlaid rosewood.
“It’s lovely.”
“It was a surprise,” Cade said, his expression rather thoughtful. “I didn’t know he knew oak from pine at the time. Now he works as a carpenter and furniture maker.”
“People can amaze you,” she murmured, thinking of her mother and her secrets.
“There you go again,” Cade said softly. “Looking sad,” he added when she glanced his way.
“I’m not sad at all,” she quickly told him and smiled to prove it.
He said nothing further, but his glance was skeptical. She really had to be more careful of her emotions around him. He saw too much.
When the decaffeinated coffee was ready, they carried the mugs into the den. He turned on the gas long enough to start the wood so they could have a fire.
“You have real logs,” she said.
“Yes. I buy a cord from the Boy Scouts each year. For twenty bucks extra, they stack it in the garage, so it’s a good deal.”
She nodded. “I’ve wondered what the artist was hiding in his garage. The inside door is locked with a dead bolt, which I don’t have a key for.”
“Nothing sinister,” Cade assured her. “He stores art treasures there until he can move them to his gallery, which is where he sells his paintings as well as imported art.”
“I see.”
Sara was aware of the silence surrounding them as they watched the flames, each on an opposite end of the sofa. Cade set his mug on the coffee table, then turned so that he leaned into the corner, facing her.
“Sara,” he said and took the mug from her trembling hands and set it aside.
Sparks shot along her nerves at the husky tone. She cleared her throat. “Yes?”
He slid along the sofa until he could hook a finger under her chin and turn her face to his. “Just…this,” he murmured. Then he kissed her.
His lips were warm and mobile over hers, his touch firm but gentle, filling her with a vast yearning for things that could never be, not between them.
Quick, hot tears pressed behind her closed eyes, forlorn, useless tears, for all the years and all the sorrows that stood between her and this man. One slipped over her lashes and wended down her cheek.
Laying her hands on his chest, she pressed slightly.
“What bothers you so?” he asked, a puzzled frown forming on his face as he caught the tear on a finger. “Is it me? Or something from your past? Or from our past when we knew each other as children?”
All of the above.
But she didn’t say that. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed.” She tried to smile but her mouth trembled too much. She pressed her lips together.
“Why?” He bent his head slightly in order to study the expression in her eyes. “Why has it been a long time since you’ve been kissed?”
She looked away, staring into the flames until she was sure the words would come. “This time last year I went to a party. With my fiancé.”
Cade’s face disclosed no reaction to her words. “And?”
“We had a quarrel, and he…drove home alone while I had a friend drop me off.”
When she paused, Cade nodded and told her to go on.
“He was drinking and I thought he shouldn’t drive, but he wouldn’t listen, so I…I let him go. He had an accident and…and…”
“He died?” Cade said, supplying the ending to her story.
“Yes. Luckily no other cars were involved. He wasn’t found until around noon the next day. He’d gone off an embankment and the car wasn’t visible from the road. A man and his son trying to get to the river to fish happened to see the tire tracks. They found him, but it was too late.”
“I’m sorry,” Cade said.
He slid his hands into her hair at each temple and held her. He kissed her eyes, each cheek, then the corner of her mouth. Each touch was unbearably tender.
“I should have called the police, or at least threatened to. Maybe he would have listened then. But I didn’t. I was angry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He licked away the tears that seeped from beneath her closed lashes. “It wasn’t,” he insisted when she tried to tell him it was. “We make choices. Sometimes they’re the wrong ones. Each person is responsible for his or her decisions, not someone else’s.”
He kissed her again, angling across her mouth, seeking greater contact. She pulled away. “You don’t know,” she whispered. “You don’t know.”
“I do. My wife’s car went over a cliff two years ago. I was relieved that she was gone. I felt guilty as hell for feeling that way. I still do. But we have to go on,” he added on a gentler note. “You were wise to move here.”
“Wise?” she questioned, staring into his eyes and wondering why he thought that.
“You’ve had two tragedies to cope with this past year. Leaving Denver means you’re ready to get on with your life. Stacy and I are very lucky that you decided to come to California.”
She fought the hot rise of tears and managed to hold them in. “I wonder if you’ll feel that way a year from now,” she said, then stood and hurried out the back door and into the sanctuary of her house.
After locking the door, she stood in the dark with her forehead pressed against the wooden panel and listened to the frantic pounding of her heart. She wasn’t moving forward with her life, but going backward, she wanted to tell Cade.
Twenty-five years, to be exact.
Sara’s first week at Lakeside was spent in meetings with the administration, going over schedules and class plans. She marked holidays and vacations in her day planner. Her friend Rachel had a PDA, a small electronic device which had a calendar, address book and several other functions.
“I’m going to save up and get one of those,” Sara declared at lunch on Friday.
The teachers’ orientation program had ended at noon and they were free the rest of the day. The two had opted to go to the nearby Chinese restaurant in celebration.
Rachel agreed. “With the school on a year-round program, it’s a great help. Otherwise, I can never keep up with student holidays, when we teachers have to work, versus school holidays, when the whole place is closed down.” She smiled past Sara’s shoulder. “Well, hi, there,” she said. “It’s a really good-looking guy,” she said to Sara.
Sara glanced behind her. “Tyler, hello,” she said in surprise. She hadn’t heard a word from him all week.
“Hey, sis. Hello, Rachel. Nice seeing you again,” he said, joining them at their table. “I’ve been looking for you two.”
“How did you find us?” Sara asked, feeling only slightly apprehensive at his remark. His manner was relaxed, so she assumed he brought no compelling news.
“I stopped at the school and asked. The gal in the office said she thought you were coming here.” When the waiter appeared, Tyler ordered the day’s noodle bowl special, then glanced at the two women. “Nick and I have tomorrow night off. How about dinner and a movie? We’ll spring for both of you since cops make a lot more money than teachers.”
“Now that’s an offer I for one can’t refuse,” Sara murmured in amusement at her brother’s sardonic style. “How about it, Rachel?”
Her friend considered. “We could hold out for a better deal. The hot dog guy down at Fisherman’s Wharf makes more than cops, I think. But,” she added quickly, “he isn’t nearly as handsome. What time are you two big spenders picking us up? Or shall we meet you somewhere?”
Tyler grinned. “Can you be at Sara’s place at six? We’ll eat early and catch the eight-o’clock show.”
After they finished their lunch, Tyler went back on duty. Sara and Rachel decided to spend the afternoon window-shopping. “There’s a place I want to go,” Sara said when they exited a department store in Union Square.
“Parks,” Rachel said, understanding at once. “It’s down this way.”
Sara found her heart speeding up when they stopped to look in the window at the top-line jewelry. Entering the showroom, she felt like a sneak thief, as if she was there for nefarious purposes.
“May I help you?” a smartly dressed woman asked.
She wore a black suit with a black silk camisole and a necklace of the largest pearls Sara had ever seen. The necklace and earrings were set off to perfection by the fairness of the woman’s skin and the darkness of her hair and suit. Her eyes were very pale blue-gray.
“We’re just looking,” Rachel said breezily, her tone implying they might buy something if anything struck their fancy.
The woman smiled, nodded and faded into the background.
Sara glanced around the store. It was as exquisite as the woman, done in subtle tones of beige and blue and red, colors taken from an Oriental rug that separated a small seating area from the rest of the store.
Diamond jewelry in gold settings was displayed on a background of deep royal-blue velvet. Other pieces in white gold, or perhaps platinum, were on red velvet. In one case, hundreds of loose gems were artfully arranged like a river of ice cascading over the landscape of velvet.
Everywhere she looked, Sara saw elegance—in paintings on the walls, in rich drapes at the windows, even the gate barring entrance into a back room was made of delicately scrolled wrought-iron that looked like a work of art. Classical music played softly through unseen speakers.
It was all so understated in a rich and sumptuous way.
This was what the Parks family had. This was what their children believed to be their birthright. But part of this empire should have belonged to her family. And what of Tyler and Conrad, Walter Parks’s sons through his affair with their mother?
The door swung open, interrupting her inspection.
A subtle tension entered the elegant showroom. The woman in black straightened slightly, as if coming to attention. A younger man, busy shining an already shiny counter, became busier. Three elderly women, who had been discussing a graduation present for their niece, glanced up, then smiled at the man who’d entered.
Sara recognized him at once.
Walter Parks was sixty, but he was a man who kept himself in good physical shape. He was trim and athletic-looking, his face deeply tanned and leathery from hours in the sun. Tennis, she thought. Golf. Exclusive country clubs. He could afford the membership and greens fees.
At six-two, he was as tall as his son and her neighbor, Cade. His hair was salt-and-pepper gray, his eyes brown.
She hated him on sight.
Rachel laid a hand on her arm and gestured toward the man as he walked through the store and went behind the far counter. Sara nodded that she knew who he was.
“Did the courier arrive?” he asked the store manager, not bothering with a greeting.
“Yes. I put the package in the safe.”
He nodded and disappeared into the back.
Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.
The word pounded in Sara’s head with each beat of her heart. She could hear her mother’s weakened voice, murmuring his name and the accusation as she sank into a coma, her heart giving up the battle to sustain life.
“Make…him…pay,” Marla had whispered to her children as they gathered at her bedside.
“We will,” Tyler had vowed.
“Let’s go,” Sara said to Rachel. “Let’s get out of here.”
After one glance at Sara, Rachel nodded and took her arm, leading her outside and away from the sight of anyone in the store. Sara leaned against the building and forced air into her constricted lungs.
“Are you all right?” Rachel asked.
“Yes. I think so,” Sara added, pushing a smile onto her face. “I am. Really.”
“I didn’t think about him walking in the door while we were there,” Rachel admitted. “It took us both by surprise.”
“Yes. He looks like…”
“Cade?” Rachel guessed.
Sara nodded. “I didn’t realize there would be so much family resemblance.” She shook her head slightly as if to ward off the comparison. “I think I’m ready to go home.”
Back at Sara’s house, Rachel dropped her off, then rolled down the car window. “Don’t forget our big date tomorrow night,” she called out, laughter in her voice.
“I won’t.” Sara waved goodbye before opening the door to her place. No one seemed to be in next door.
