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Liza peered at her. “He knocked on the door.”
Cora ignored that. “Kaitlin said you could sleep in her bed tonight.”
“I don’t want to go bed.”
“Molly and Kaitlin are waiting for you.”
Liza’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “No. I don’t like going to bed.” She patted Rafael’s chest. “He doesn’t, either.”
Cora gave him a dry look. “Is that so?”
“I said I didn’t like to sleep. I didn’t say anything about going to bed.” Before Cora could respond, he tickled Liza’s ribs. “Tell you what, Liza, will you go to bed if I tell you a story?”
Her look was skeptical. “What kind of story?”
“What kind of stories do you like?”
She seemed to consider it for a long moment. “Can it have a pirate in it?”
“Sure.”
“And a dog?”
“Absolutely. A dog named Melody.” At the sound of her name, Melody got to her feet, then followed him when he started toward the stairs.
“And ice cream?”
“What flavor?” He shot Cora a silent invitation as he started up the stairs. Cora mumbled something to Becky, then fell into step behind them.
Liza pursed her lips. “I like chocolate.”
“Not pickle?”
Liza’s face scrunched. “Eeeew.”
“What about cabbage?”
“There’s no such thing as cabbage ice cream.”
“You sure?”
“Sure. That’s gross.”
He reached the top of the stairs, then met Cora’s gaze above Liza’s head. Raising a hand, Cora indicated the room to the right of the landing. He headed down the hall. “All right, chocolate. If it has a pirate, a dog and chocolate ice cream, do you promise to go to bed?”
“What if the thunder comes back?”
The storm was nearly over. The thunder already sounded distant. “Then you can get up,” he promised.
Liza laid her head against his chest. “Okay.”
The door was open and soft light spilled into the hallway. Rafael entered the room to find Molly and Kaitlin having a quiet argument over a book.
“I want to read it,” Molly insisted.
“You can’t,” her sister said. “It’s mine.”
“Girls,” Cora said from the door. “I told you to share the book. Molly, Kaitlin’s letting you sleep in her room. Let her have the book back.”
Molly hesitated, then released the book. “How come she always gets her way?” she demanded.
Kaitlin glared at Cora. “I don’t have to share it if I don’t want to. Mama gave it to me. It’s mine.”
Rafael saw Cora close her eyes in weary acquiescence. She hadn’t followed him into the room. Instead, she leaned against the doorjamb. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Just quit fighting about it.”
He set Liza on the bed and waited for her to scramble beneath the covers next to Molly. When she and the stuffed rabbit were properly settled, he looked at Kaitlin. “Your sister requested a story. Is that all right with you?”
Kaitlin stared at him, wide-eyed. A rumble of thunder had Liza clutching the covers and pleading with her. “Please, Kaitlin. He said he’d put a pirate in it.”
Rafael nodded. “And a dog named Melody.”
Melody had followed them upstairs. She now rubbed against his leg. He scratched her ears until she dropped to the floor and thumped her tail on the carpet.
“I’m too old for bedtime stories,” Kaitlin informed him carefully.
“Naturally,” he concurred. “I’m telling it to Liza. You don’t have to listen if you aren’t interested.”
She hesitated a second longer, then nodded. “Okay.”
No wonder, Rafael thought, that she and Cora were having trouble getting along. She liked control as much as her aunt did. He sat on the edge of the bed and started to spin a tale about pirate ships and treasure, chocolate ice cream and a dog named Melody. Liza yawned and rubbed her eyes with her fist. Molly fought her drooping eyelids. Kaitlin sank deeper beneath the covers and watched him, cautiously but intently. When he saw Liza’s eyes drift shut and her mouth go slack, he glanced at Molly and Kaitlin. Both were asleep.
He looked at Cora, who still stood by the door. Raising a hand to his lips, he cautioned her to be silent. She nodded and flipped the lights off. The glow of a night-light cast long shadows in the room. Easing off the bed, he walked to the door. Cora stepped aside to let him pass, then pulled the door partially shut as she joined him in the hall.
He gave her a dry look. “Mission accomplished.”
“Congratulations,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do about nominating you for the Nobel peace prize.”
He laughed softly as they walked toward the stairs. “Is bedtime always like this?”
“Mostly. The storm made it worse than usual.” She hesitated. “They miss their mother. Something like a bad storm makes them miss her more.”
He nodded. “When is she coming back for them?”
Cora shrugged. “I wish I knew.”
The frustration in her voice made him frown. Cora turned away and would have started down the stairs, but he touched her elbow, halting her progress. “You’re very good with them,” he assured her.
Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re the one who talked them to sleep.”
“You’re the one who makes them secure. Don’t underestimate that.”
She studied him for long, inscrutable seconds. “You really didn’t know Jerry was going to do this, did you?” she finally asked.
Pleased, he shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”
“For what it’s worth, I believe you. I don’t know why. I just do.”
“I’m glad.”
With a nod, she headed downstairs. “I suppose you’d better fill me in on what exactly Jerry and Henry are planning to announce about my project tomorrow. I’d rather not get ambushed.”
WHEN THEY JOINED Becky in Cora’s living room, she was setting three mugs of coffee on the table. “You’re through already?” she asked. “That’s got to be a new record.”
Rafael pointed to the ceiling. “They’re sleeping.”
“It’s a miracle.” She handed Cora a mug. “Creamed and sugared, just like you take it.”
“Thanks.” Cora sank into one of the wing chairs.
Becky sat on the couch and cradled her own mug. “Did you want anything in yours, Dr. Adriano?”
He shook his head. “Black is fine. And I wish you’d quit calling me Dr. Adriano. I might forget to answer.”
When Becky flushed, Cora gave him a wry look. “What I want to know is, where was all this charm when you were sending me those pushy letters?”
Rafael laughed and took the seat across from Cora. “You were supposed to read between the lines and find me irresistible.”
Her fingers gripped the arm of her chair. “Well, it worked on Henry Willers, anyway. He obviously couldn’t resist you.”
He stifled his frustration when he thought of his earlier confrontation with Jerry and Henry. He’d been just as surprised as Cora to find out they’d already released a statement that he’d joined the project. Just as surprised, and probably angrier. “Look, Cora,” he said, watching her carefully. She didn’t flinch at the liberty he’d taken with her first name. He took that as a good sign. “I had no idea this was going to happen, but we can’t change it now. It seems to me that we might as well make the best of a potentially bad situation.”
She hesitated a moment. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of talking Henry out of this.”
Becky shook her head. “He already released a written statement. The conference is just a formality.”
“Ugh.” Cora dropped her head back against the chair. “I should have known.” She looked at Rafael accusingly. “What did you think was going to happen when you told Jerry I’d refused your request?”
“It never occurred to me that you and I wouldn’t come to an understanding,” he said.
“That’s a bit arrogant, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.”
“What if we hadn’t?”
“I would have respected that.” He waited for the truth of the statement to sink in. “I asked Jerry for his opinion. If I’d known he’d try to trump you, I would have handled it differently.”
“I can manage Jerry, believe me.”
“I don’t doubt it.” And he didn’t. Cora wasn’t the type to be cowed by an arrogant SOB like Jerry Heath. “But he can be a real bastard when he wants to be.”
Becky laughed. “You could say that.”
Rafael nodded. “If it counts for anything, when he and Willers told me about this, I told him he was a pain in the ass.”
Cora settled more deeply into her seat. Digging in, he mused. She regarded him with a steady look. “I’m sure he took that well.”
Becky snorted. “What a jerk.”
She had no idea, Rafael thought. He’d been in a black rage since the confrontation in Willers’s office. He’d even threatened to walk off the project, but Jerry had been quick to point out that information had already been issued to the press. If Rafael left and took the prestige of his reputation with him, Jerry would ensure that Cora bore the blame in the eyes of the media and the college. Feeling trapped and hating nothing more than being manipulated and snared, Rafael had conceded, but not without choking several concessions out of Jerry and Henry Willers.
The room had fallen silent, and Cora stared into her coffee mug, frowning intently.
Becky touched Cora’s knee. “Cora, I talked to Willers’s secretary. She was my roommate last year, you know?” Cora nodded, so Becky continued, “They were going to take the entire project away from you. If Dr. Adriano hadn’t intervened, Jerry was just going to make you hand over the diaries to the college. He says you gave the college the rights to any historical records or artifacts you found in this house when you bought it from them.”
“I did,” Cora muttered. “They wouldn’t sell it to me without that clause.”
“So at least this way, you get to continue studying them,” Becky pointed out.
Cora’s short laugh was humorless. “Thank God.” She gave him a cold look. “I should be grateful for that, I suppose.”
He ground his teeth. He should have slugged Jerry when he had the chance. “You’re still in charge of the project,” he said. “I insisted on that.”
Cora didn’t respond. Becky gave Rafael a worried look. “It doesn’t have to be that bad, Cora. I know you’re frustrated, but I’m sure we can work something out.”
Cora took a sip of her coffee. “Becky,” she said patiently, too patiently, “do you have any idea what’s going to happen when the story gets out that Dr. Adriano is here to join this project?” Becky shook her head.
Cora looked at Rafael and said, “Madness and mayhem.”
Rafael decided it was time to tip his hand. “Money and media,” he corrected her. “And from what Jerry tells me, you need them both.”
“We’re not desperate,” she insisted.
“You don’t even have enough in your research funding to complete your examination of the existing diaries—much less for their preservation and authentication.”
Becky nodded. “It’s true, Cora.”
“I’ve got some promising leads,” Cora protested. “It’s—”
Rafael cut her off. “I can guarantee you three million dollars by the end of the week.”
Cora choked. “Three million?”
“Oh, my God,” Becky said, wide-eyed.
Rafael nodded, satisfied. That kind of grant money was unheard of in Cora’s field. She’d probably been hoping for several thousand. “And that’s just starters.”
Cora stared at him. “What could possibly—”
