The Family Diamond

In Brian O’sullivan’s eyes she was another man’s child, and for the most part he ignored her. His bouts of drinking turned him into a mean and angry man, and Maura soon learned to stay out of his way.

The marriage lasted three years, dissolving after her mother finally tired of her stepfather’s constant drinking and verbal abuse. For Maura it was a relief to be rid of him, but his negative presence had only heightened her longing for her real father.

She’d tried asking her mother questions about him, only to be told the subject was off-limits. Though she’d known her mother had loved her, Maura always had the impression that having a child out of wedlock had been something of a burden for her. And Maura had been envious of friends who were lucky enough to have a loving, caring father.

Learning that her own father was alive and living in California had rocked her to the core, and she knew she would never rest until she’d met him face-to-face and asked him why he’d turned his back on her and her mother all those years ago.

She needed to know. She deserved to know.

Reentering the bedroom, she noticed the tasteful decor. A cream-colored carpet covered the floor, and the bedroom furniture, made from mahogany, consisted of a dressing table with matching nightstands and a beautifully carved headboard on the queen-size bed.

The bedspread reminded Maura of a field of wild-flowers, and the walls, painted a pale shade of apricot, gave the room a cool ambience.

Crossing to her suitcase she lifted it onto the bed and proceeded to unpack.

Spencer stood at the wet bar in the dining room and poured himself a generous serving of whisky. His parents were in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal.

Ten years ago his father had handed the business of running the ranch over to Spencer. Since then his father derived a great deal of pleasure from puttering around in the kitchen.

During the years he and his brother and sister had been growing up, his mother had hired a cook. And once they’d all left home for college or a career, his mother hadn’t had the heart to let Mrs. B. go. Mrs. B. had taught her new and apt pupil, Elliot Diamond, everything she knew, while his mother had happily encouraged her husband to take over in the kitchen.

Spencer smiled. After more than forty years of marriage his parents were still very much in love and truly enjoyed each other’s company. And when Spencer had married Lucy, he’d been sure that theirs would be the kind of marriage that would last.

He’d been wrong. His marriage had been nothing short of a disaster, souring his dreams and leaving him adrift on a sea of pain and bitterness.

A faint sound caught his attention, and he turned to see Maura standing in the doorway dressed in a cream blouse and rainbow-colored skirt that reached her ankles. Her coppery hair was tamed into a severe knot at the base of her elegant neck.

“Come in,” he invited, aware once more of a swift jab of attraction at the sight of her. “May I pour you a drink?” he asked, deciding he liked her much better with her hair flowing free, the way he’d seen her the first time they met. He was sorely tempted to walk over and remove the pins.

“Soda water would be nice, thank you,” she replied. She came toward him, stopping on the other side of the bar.

“Are you sure I can’t interest you in a glass of Chardonnay? Or a Riesling perhaps? California wineries produce some of the best wines in the world.”

She nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip, and instantly his stomach muscles clenched and an emotion, long dormant, stirred deep inside him.

“Thank you. I’d love to try a California Chardonnay.”

“Good choice,” he replied. Setting his glass on the bar, he opened the small fridge below the counter and brought out a bottle of wine.

With practiced ease he stripped off its foil cover and withdrew the cork with the aid of a big brass corkscrew clamped onto the bar.

“Now there’s a clever device,” Maura commented. She watched him pour the pale gold liquid into a wineglass.

“And very efficient,” he said, handing her the glass.

“Thank you.” Her fingers brushed his and at the fleeting contact, a shiver of sensation darted up her arm. She threw him a startled glance, and as their gazes collided, her heart lurched painfully and her breath froze in her throat.

“There you are, Maura,” Nora Diamond’s greeting shattered the tension-filled silence. It was with some relief Maura turned to her hostess. “Is your room comfortable?” Nora asked.

“It’s lovely, thank you,” Maura responded.

“Be sure and let me know if you need anything,” Nora said with a smile. “Is that Chardonnay you’re drinking?”

Maura nodded. “Your son kindly poured me a glass.”

“Spencer, dear. I’ll have one, too,” his mother said. “Oh…and, Maura, when it comes to mealtimes, they’re usually a casual affair. My husband told me to announce that dinner’s ready, so please take a seat anywhere at the table,” she went on. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and give Elliot a hand.”

Careful to avoid Spencer’s gaze, Maura crossed to the oak dining table. Setting down her glass she pulled out the nearest chair.

“How’s the wine?” Spencer asked coming up behind her. He held the chair for her, and as she sat down she could feel his warm breath fanning the back of her neck.

Awareness danced across her skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. It took every ounce of control to stop her hand from shaking as she reached for her wineglass.

She sipped the Chardonnay, more to steady her nerves than to taste, and as the silky coolness slide down her throat, the tension inside her slowly began to ease.

“Hmm.…it’s lovely. Refreshing, with a crisp fruity taste,” she said brightly.

“I’m impressed.” Spencer placed the glass his mother had ordered next to a place setting. “And here I thought folks from Kentucky only drank bourbon.”

“Oh…we do.” Maura heard the humor in his voice and fought to hide a grin. “And it’s the best bourbon in the world, as you know. But there are some of us who have actually been known to recognize a decent glass of wine when we taste one.”

Spencer emitted a low rumble of laughter. The sound sent a fresh flurry of sensation chasing down her spine.

Suddenly Elliot appeared carrying a steaming platter to the table. He flashed Maura a smile as he set down a dish of chicken breasts drowning in a creamy mushroom sauce.

Nora followed with two serving dishes, one containing steamed potatoes, the other a variety of vegetables.

Once they were seated and the food served, conversation drifted easily from one subject to another as they ate.

Spencer occupied the chair directly across from Maura, and she found it both annoying and disconcerting that each time their gazes met her heart skipped a beat.

“Did you say Michael is due home tomorrow?” The question came from Spencer, and Maura quickly shook off the feeling of fatigue slowly descending on her and, holding her breath, waited for a response.

“I believe he gets in sometime in the afternoon,” Nora reported.

“Where exactly was he cruising to?” Maura asked hoping to keep the subject of her father in the forefront.

“The Caribbean,” Elliot replied. “Though I don’t recall which ports of call he was visiting.”

“Does he travel a lot?” Maura asked, her tone light.

“Yes. He and his wife enjoyed taking trips,” Nora answered. “We went on several vacations with them when Ruth was alive. This is the first trip he’s taken since her death.”

“He must still miss his wife,” Maura said, cautiously careful not to sound too interested.

“Very much,” Elliot replied.

“I’m afraid Michael’s had more than his share of sorrow these past few years,” Nora added, darting a concerned glance at her son.

Puzzled, Maura looked across the table at Spencer.

“Michael also lost his daughter, Lucy, who happened to be my wife,” Spencer said. His tone was level, his voice carefully controlled.

Maura fought not to react, but inside she was reeling. From the brief conversation earlier she’d learned her father had been married, but somehow the knowledge that he’d had another daughter, that she’d had a half sister—and that her half sister had been married to Spencer—was something of a shock.

“Lucy was an only child.” Nora picked up the thread, effectively capturing Maura’s attention. “She and Spencer had only been married a year…” Nora came to a halt, glancing once more at her son before continuing. “Lucy died in a car accident two years ago. Ruth never really recovered from her daughter’s death.”

Maura drew a steadying breath and met Spencer’s gaze. His eyes were shuttered, his expression unreadable. It was obvious that the pain of losing his wife still lingered, and her heart went out to him.

“How tragic. I’m so sorry for your loss,” Maura said.

Spencer looked away, making no reply. He reached for his water glass.

“Lucy was a beautiful young woman,” Elliot commented, filling the silence and drawing Maura away from Spencer. “Being an only child she was spoiled and a little reckless.”

“Lucy’s death hit us all very hard,” Nora went on. She threw her son a compassionate glance. “Ruth simply never got over it, dying a year later of a broken heart.”

“Difficult as it’s been for Michael, we saw this trip as a sign he’s starting to come to terms with the tragedy and moving on with his life,” Elliot said.

As Maura listened to Nora and Elliot talk about their daughter-in-law, she was both puzzled and intrigued by Spencer’s silence. He appeared to have withdrawn to some private place.

Nora rose from the table, and started to gather up the dishes, bringing an end to the conversation.

“Let me help,” Maura said.

“You’ll do no such thing, at least not tonight,” Nora asserted good-naturedly. “Stay and chat with Spencer.”

Maura’s heart skipped a beat. She would have preferred to follow her hostess and talk more about Michael Carson.

“Coffee anyone?” Elliot asked, reappearing with carafe in hand.

“I’ll have coffee, Dad.” Spencer pushed back his chair and crossed to the bar.

“Yes, thank you,” Maura replied. “And the chicken was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

“Thank you,” Elliot responded as he began to pour coffee into cups.

“Maura? Can I interest you in a liqueur? There’s Brandy? Cointreau? Or how about Grand Marnier?” Spencer offered.

“No, thank you,” Maura replied. She stood up. “Actually I think I’ll pass on the coffee. It’s been a long day, I’m rather tired. I’ll just say good-night.”

“By all means, my dear,” Elliot said.

Maura dropped her napkin on the table and made her way from the room. She stopped for a moment in the doorway and glanced at Spencer, who was pouring himself a liqueur. She could see the tension in his shoulders and in the line of his jaw, almost as if he was gritting his teeth.

The conversation at dinner had obviously upset him more than he was willing to show. Ever since Lucy’s name had been mentioned, she’d noticed his withdrawal and noticed, too, that the atmosphere in the room had changed from lighthearted to melancholy.

Even now he appeared to be deep in thought, and Maura could only guess that the loss of his wife was still a raw and painful wound.

He must have loved Lucy very much. Turning, Maura headed for the stairs, feeling a stab of envy for Lucy, the sister she’d never known.

Maura lay awake for some time, thinking about Spencer’s wife, Lucy. The possibility of having a sibling had crossed her mind, but finding out she’d had a half sister who was now gone left her torn between feelings of joy and a deep regret that she would forever be denied the opportunity to know her.

She tried to imagine what it had been like for Lucy growing up with their father. From the little she’d gleaned from the conversation at dinner, Lucy’s parents had spoiled her.

Maura felt tears slowly trickle into her hair. It seemed so unfair. Being part of a family was all she’d ever wanted. Growing up without a father, she’d often been made to feel like an outsider.

And even now that she’d located him, there was no guarantee he’d welcome her with open arms or want to have anything to do with her. He’d had a daughter, a daughter he’d loved and lost.

Michael Carson had turned his back on Maura and her mother twenty-seven years ago. He could easily do it again.

It was with these thoughts swirling in her head that Maura finally drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, the room was in darkness and for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was.

Rolling onto her back, she stretched. A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table told her it was 4:55. She lay for several minutes enjoying the warmth and comfort of the queen-size bed.

Pushing the covers aside, she rose and went to the sliding doors. Outside on the balcony she inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar and much-loved scent of horses and hay and the outdoors.

The air was fresh and invigorating and not as chilly as it would have been had she been standing on her small front porch back in Bridlewood.

The sun was still abed but the faint glow to the east told her it would soon be making an appearance. Restless and suddenly eager to begin work with the horse she’d come to help, she decided to take a walk outside and locate the stables.

Slipping back into her room she indulged in a quick shower before dressing in her jeans and pale-blue cotton shirt. She braided her still-wet hair into one long ponytail. Out of habit Maura made up her bed and, with her riding boots in her hand, headed downstairs.

When she reached the kitchen, she came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Spencer scooping ground coffee into the automatic coffeemaker.

For a moment she was tempted to sneak away, but she wasn’t quick enough.

“Good morning. Coffee will be ready in a few minutes. Would you care to join me?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Maura replied politely, noting, as she came farther into the kitchen, the weary slant of his shoulders and the lines around his eyes.

“I hope you slept well,” said Spencer.

“Like a baby,” Maura replied as she crossed to the table, annoyed at the nervous flutter of her stomach. “What about you?”

“I didn’t sleep at all,” he replied, tiredness seeping into his voice. He glanced up and met her gaze head-on. “I had a few things on my mind.”

Maura felt her heart kick against her rib cage in alarm.

“Really,” she said cautiously, unsure just how she should respond. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do, is there?” she asked out of politeness.

Spencer switched on the coffeemaker and turned to give her his full attention.

“Actually, there is,” he said, his gaze hard and unyielding, sending a quiver of alarm racing through her. “Perhaps you can explain to me why, after turning down my invitation two months ago to come to California, you suddenly called to say you’d changed your mind?”

Chapter Three

Spencer studied Maura’s startled expression with interest. Ever since her strange and unforgettable reaction to hearing Michael Carson’s name, he’d become both wary and suspicious.

Her nervous chatter, followed by her comments on cruises, ships and holidays, had only added to his unease. For a fleeting moment she’d reminded him of Lucy, who’d been an expert at hiding the truth.

At dinner he’d deliberately brought up the subject of Michael Carson, just to see Maura’s reaction. He’d caught the flash of keen interest in her hazel eyes, as well as the sudden tension in her body. She’d held her breath, just as she was doing now.

“Cat got your tongue, red?” Spencer asked and saw annoyance and guilt war with each other in the depths of her eyes.

“I felt bad, that’s all,” Maura replied, inwardly bristling at his use of the hated nickname.

“Really?” he said, his tone telling her he didn’t for a minute believe her.

“I was rude to you that night. Afterward I regretted my outburst.” She hoped she sounded convincing. “I realized that the best way to prove how wrong your assumptions were about me was to come to California and show you just what I can do. By turning you down that night I was really punishing the horse, not you.”

Spencer laughed. The low throaty sound sent her pulse skyrocketing.

“That’s very good,” he said. “But that was two months ago. You took your time…thinking it over. Why did it take you so long to call?”

Maura glared at him. He had her over a barrel, but she wasn’t about to give in without a fight. “Look…if you don’t want my help with Indigo you should have said so when I called, that way we could have saved each other a lot of time and expense—”

Spencer heard the genuine indignation and anger in her voice, and for a moment he was tempted to believe her. In truth he wanted to believe that her only reason for coming to California was to work with his prize-winning racehorse, but he simply didn’t buy it.

He remembered vividly their encounter that night two months ago. He’d have bet money on never hearing from her again. And while he acknowledged that he really had very little to back up his sense of unease, he wasn’t a man who ignored his instincts, not anymore.

Silently he admired the spark of challenge and defiance he could see in her eyes. But if she wasn’t hiding something, why was she chewing nervously on her lower lip?

Confrontation hadn’t worked; perhaps he needed to try another approach. “I do need your help with Indigo,” he replied, deciding to bide his time, to wait and watch. “Look…I’m sorry,” he went on, and noted with some satisfaction the glint of relief that danced briefly in her eyes.

“That’s all right.” Maura brushed aside his apology and tried to ignore the way her heart flip-flopped crazily inside her chest.

His question, though not unexpected, had surprised her. But even more startling had been the fact that for a mind-numbing second, as the silence stretched between them, she’d been sorely tempted to confide in him, to tell him about her mother’s journal and her startling discovery that Michael Carson was her father.

She’d quickly quashed the impulse. In all likelihood he wouldn’t believe her. And she quickly reminded herself Spencer had been married to Lucy, Michael’s daughter. His loyalty undoubtedly lay in that direction, and if she told him the truth, he’d accuse her of lying or something equally unpleasant and send her packing before she could meet her father.

If she stayed at the Diamond Ranch, her chances of coming face-to-face with Michael Carson were much higher. With that possibility in mind, she would concentrate on Indigo and pray that her father would pay his neighbors and friends a visit.

And if in the meantime she succeeded in helping Indigo overcome his problems, she might get the added bonus of earning Spencer’s trust and respect.

“Do you still want coffee?” Spencer’s question cut into her wandering thoughts.

“Yes. Thank you.” Maura approached the counter. “Tell me more about Indigo.”

Spencer retrieved two mugs from the cupboard above the sink and filled them. He slid one mug across the counter toward her, followed by the cream jug, then leaned against the butcher block, coffee in hand.

“I bought Indigo two years ago at a sale here in the California. Since then he’s won all six races we’ve entered him in.

“Unfortunately, he’s got a thing about starting gates, and with each race he’s gotten progressively worse. At the last race two months ago the stewards came close to disqualifying him. He held up the proceedings for more than twenty minutes before they finally got him into the gate.”

“Does he react the same way when he’s being loaded into the horse van?” Maura asked.

“No. Well, at least not to the same degree,” Spencer replied. “He balks at first but after a few tries we get him loaded. Why?”

“Just curious,” she said. “When did you say he was due to race?”

“A week Saturday, at Santa Anita,” Spencer answered. “And if he refuses to enter the starting gate, disrupts or delays the race in any way, he’ll be disqualified and possibly banned from racing for life.”

Maura heard the frustration and the echo of defeat in Spencer’s voice. But she was encouraged by the fact that Indigo had been winning races even after wasting effort and energy refusing to go into the starting gate. He was obviously a gifted racer and it would be a sad day for both horse and owner if he were permanently banned from the sport.

“We don’t have much time,” Maura said. “When can I see him?” she asked, wanting not only to prove herself but also to ease the anxiety she could see on Spencer’s rugged features. “I need to get to know him and gain his trust,” she went on. “Once that’s accomplished, I should be able to figure out what’s causing him to fight the gate each time. Understanding the root of the problem often leads to a solution.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Spencer commented on a sigh. “Why don’t we head down to the stables right now?”

“I’m ready.” Maura set her near-empty mug on the counter. “I assume you have a daily schedule for all your horses. Does Indigo ride out with the rest of your string?” she asked.

“Yes,” Spencer replied. “I thought it best not to deviate from his normal training schedule.”

“Good.” Maura retrieved her boots. “What exactly have you tried so far?” She sat down and pulled them on.

“Everything from putting a blindfold on him to bribing him with food. If anything, he’s getting worse,” Spencer added in a discouraging tone.

Maura stood up. “Let’s check him out.”

Indigo was truly a magnificent animal. There was no other way to describe the chestnut Thoroughbred with the distinguishing white blaze on his nose, standing quietly in his stall.

Spencer introduced Maura to the stable hand assigned to take care of the prize-winning racehorse. Joe was preparing to give Indigo his morning rub down.

“Did Phil say anything about his ride this morning?” Spencer asked.

“Just that Indy was raring to go, as always,” Joe responded. “He sure loves to race. Phil says he has a hard time keeping Indy from going flat-out in the practice runs. He’s pretty sure Indy will win the Jane Vanderhoof Cup for four-year-olds, no problem at all.”

“Indigo will only win if we can get him to walk into that starting gate without breaking stride,” Spencer commented. “When will you be finished here, Joe?”

“Give me half an hour,” Joe replied as he prepared to enter Indigo’s stall. Inside Indigo snorted softly in greeting.

Spencer turned to Maura. “Why don’t I take you on a tour of the place? We’ll come back when he’s finished.”

Maura had seen her share of racing stables, but never one quite so well run as the Blue Diamond Ranch. Spencer ran a tight ship and, judging by the nods and greetings he gave and received from the stable hands and riders they encountered, he was also well respected by the men who worked for him.

She met Hank Wilson, the stable manager, and toured the open-air and immaculately kept stables that housed a total of twenty racehorses. Of those, Spencer and his father owned part interest in two and full interest in one, Indigo.

Spencer also showed her the stable where the family’s horses were kept, horses that were ridden mostly for pleasure, inviting her to take one out whenever she wanted, with the exception of his own mount, Lucifer.

As they made their way back to Indigo’s stall, Maura asked, “Would you be offended if I asked you not to stay? I’d prefer to get to know him in my own way and in my own time.”

In actual fact she didn’t relish the thought of having Spencer standing nearby watching her every move. She found his presence and proximity more than a little unnerving, and knew Indigo would readily pick up on her reaction.

She caught the look of indecision that flitted across his tanned face.