Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's Son\The Brother's Wife\The Long-Lost Heir (25 page)

Her mother was always organizing something. She worked at the local library part-
time, was heavily involved in church activities and with her garden club and women’s groups. She made Hope tired just listening to her.

“What a nice surprise,” she told Hope as she hung up the phone. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Pouring them both a glass of orange juice from the fridge, she came over to the table and sat down across from Hope. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Hope shrugged. “I just wanted to see you, but it sounds like you’re busy.”

Her mother brushed off her concern with a wave of her hand. “Oh, that. Tilly McIntyre broke her ankle yesterday, poor old thing. Tripped over a loose board on her porch steps. She’s been meaning to get it fixed for ages, but you know how that goes. You remember her, don’t you, dear? She’s been the cleaning lady at Saint Anthony’s for years.”

Ever since her meeting with Jake, memories had been churning inside Hope, and now at the mention of Saint Anthony’s, yet another one swept over her. She and Jake had planned to get married in Saint Anthony’s, just as Hope’s mother and father had. Instead, Hope had exchanged vows with Andrew at Saint Mary’s, a huge cathedral downtown, in a ceremony carefully orchestrated by Iris.

Hope had even worn Iris’s wedding gown, a Chanel original that had been a showstopper in a 1930s Paris fashion show. The gown was exquisite, trimmed with real diamonds and pearls and lace so delicate it looked as if it would melt to the touch. But Hope remembered thinking, as she fingered the silky folds on the day of her wedding, that she would have much preferred the wedding dress Mrs. Jamison, a seamstress who lived three doors down from her mother, had planned to make for Hope.

“Anyway, she’s going to be out of commission for several weeks, and I want to make sure the church is spic-
and-
span for Brant’s wedding on Saturday. You are coming, aren’t you?”

“Actually, the wedding kind of slipped my mind,” Hope said. “A lot’s been going on lately.”

Her mother’s gaze filled with mild reproach. “The Colters are very old friends of ours, dear. I know it would mean a lot to Brant if you were there. And, I’m sure, to Valerie, too,” she added, referring to Brant Colter’s fianc;aaee.

“What’s she like?” Hope asked.

“Oh, she’s very nice,” Joanna said. “A little on the reserved side, but that’s understandable, considering. Hard to imagine the two of them finally getting together with all the obstacles they had to overcome. Her, the daughter of a convicted kidnapper and murderer, and him, the son of the detective who put her father in prison. And then to find out thirty-
one years later that her father was innocent, framed by Brant’s uncle…” Her mother trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief. “It just goes to show you, that true love always wins out.” She took a sip of her orange juice and eyed Hope over the rim. “By the way, you’ll never guess who I saw the other day.”

Her mother’s innocent tone immediately raised Hope’s suspicions. “Who?”

“Jake McClain.”

Although she had been half expecting to hear his name, Hope’s heart did a strange little flip inside her chest. “Oh? Where did you see him?”

“Right outside. I was working in the yard and a truck drove by. Went right past the house at first, then backed up. Jake got out and came over to say hello. Said he just happened to be in the neighborhood, but I think he was checking on his house, making sure the new owners were taking care of it. He loved that place.” Her mother shook her head sadly, but her eyes never left Hope’s face. “It was such a shame, what the department did to him.”

Hope remained silent, although she knew her mother was waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, Joanna continued, “There was talk that Iris Kingsley got him fired, you know.”

Hope sighed but still said nothing. What was the point?

But her mother wouldn’t let it rest. “You surely don’t condone what she did.”

“I don’t know that she did anything,” Hope said. “I know you don’t care for Iris. Few people do. But she’s always been very good to me.”

“And I’m grateful for that. But Iris Kingsley doesn’t do anything without asking for something in return.”

“She’s never asked anything of me.”

Her mother’s gaze narrowed on her. “Then why are you still living in that house?”

“We’ve been over this before,” Hope said wearily, tired of having to justify her actions to everyone, including herself.

“You may not see her manipulations,” her mother warned. “But I certainly do.”

Frustration erupted inside Hope. “It’s not like she’s holding me prisoner, for God’s sake. I’m a grown woman, Mother. Capable of making my own decisions. I’ll move out when I think the time is right.”

“The time will never be more right that it is now,” her mother insisted. Her eyes filled with worry. “I don’t trust her, Hope.”

“I know you don’t. You didn’t trust Andrew, either.”

“With good reason.”

“Maybe so,” Hope conceded. “But you never gave him a chance because you never forgave me for not marrying Jake.”

Her mother lifted her chin stubbornly, an action that reminded Hope of herself.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,
her father used to say fondly. “Well, since you brought it up, I’ll just come right out and say it. Jake is a good man, Hope. He didn’t deserve the way you treated him.”

Hope put a hand to her forehead. “We’ve been all through this, too, Mother.”

“Yes, we have,” she agreed. “And in all these months since Andrew died, I haven’t once said `I told you so.’”

“Thank you,” Hope said dryly.

“But I can’t hold back any longer. You broke off with Jake because you didn’t want to be widowed like I was. I told you then, there are no guarantees in life. I told you it was better to have the years, no matter how few, that God gave you with the man you loved than to live with a lifetime of regrets.”

“Mother—”

“It’s been five months since Andrew’s death, Hope. You need to get away from the Kingsleys and start a new life for yourself. You’re still young. You can still get married again and have that family you always wanted.”

Hope didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed in. “I don’t intend to ever marry again,” she said firmly. “And, Mother, understand this. I won’t put up with any of your matchmaking tactics. Is that clear?”

A guilty blush tinged Joanna’s tanned cheeks. “I never said a word—”

“You didn’t have to,” Hope said. “I can read you like a book. And I know that’s where all this talk about Jake is leading. But it’s not going to happen.”

Her mother opened her mouth to protest, then clamped it shut again.

“Are we clear on that?” Hope said.

Her mother’s eyes filled with sudden tears. She reached across the table for Hope’s hand. “All I want is your happiness. You know that, don’t you?”

Hope gave an inward sigh. Iris Kingsley wasn’t the only expert at manipulation, she thought. Somehow her mother always knew how to diffuse Hope’s anger. “I know that,” she said softly. “But I meant what I said. No matchmaking. And don’t start working on Jake behind my back,” she warned.

Her mother sniffed. “I wouldn’t do that. But I wish you would consider what I said about moving out of that house. It’s time you got away from the Kingsleys, no matter what you decide to do with the rest of your life. Mrs. Forsythe’s house just went on the market, you know. She’s moving to Arizona to be with her daughter. It’s a little dollhouse of a place. It’d be perfect for you, Hope.”

“I’m sure it’s very nice, but I’ve already told you, I can’t move out right now. Not until—”

“Until what?”

“Until things are settled,” Hope replied.

“And just when do you think that will be?”

Hope shrugged. “I don’t know.” Soon, she hoped. She glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”

“But you just got here.” Her mother’s face fell. “I wanted to show you the dress I got for the wedding. Of course, it doesn’t compare to anything in your wardrobe,” she said, almost accusingly, as she glanced at Hope’s white suit. “But I did get it at Goldsmith’s, in the better dresses. It was half off but it still cost an arm and a leg. I’ve been wondering which shoes to wear with it—”

“Sorry, Mom,” Hope interrupted. “I’d love to help, but I really do have to be going.”

“You’re not upset with me, are you?” her mother asked anxiously as she walked Hope to the front door. “I know I can sometimes be a little blunt, but I just had to get those things off my chest. I’ve been so worried about you.”

Hope gave her mother an affectionate hug. “I’m not upset, as long as you remember our agreement.”

“I have an idea. Let’s ride to the wedding together on Saturday. It’ll give us a chance to talk some more.”

“Sure,” Hope said absently. “What time shall I pick you up?”

“The wedding’s at seven. It’s a candlelight service, so you’d better be here by six at least. Only, we’ll take my car. That fancy rig of yours makes me nervous.”

Hope just shook her head. “Whatever you say, Mom.”

* * *

H
ER MOTHER WAS RIGHT
, Hope thought. Mrs. Forsythe’s house, two blocks over from the house Hope had grown up in, was absolutely perfect. It was gray brick with darker gray shutters and a concrete porch that was sheltered from the street by a trellis of wisteria.

Clay pots of impatiens and begonias, bright splashes of color against the somber background, trailed up the wide, concrete steps, and on either side of the arched opening to the porch, huge baskets of Boston fern swayed gently in the afternoon breeze.

A real-
estate agent was hammering a For Sale sign into the front yard, and Hope was tempted to get out and ask the woman to show her the house.

But something held her back. Something told her the time was not yet right. Until she found out the truth about Michael Eldridge, until she set her mind at ease about Andrew, Hope knew she would never be completely free.

The next morning, Jake went by Victor Northrup’s plush downtown office, housed in a renovated cotton warehouse with a riverfront view, to tell Victor he would not be taking him on as a client.

Jeremy Willows, a partner at Northrup, Simmons and Fitzgerald, was in the office with Victor when Jake arrived, and Northrup quickly dismissed him. Jeremy glanced curiously at Jake before he exited the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Northrup glared at Jake with his piercing gray eyes. “I thought you understood this was to be kept confidential.”

“You wanted my answer first thing this morning,” Jake said. “That’s why I’m here.”

Northrup waved an impatient hand, as if he couldn’t be bothered with petty details. “Never mind,” he said. “I’ll think of something to tell Jeremy. Let’s get down to business. I’ve put a file together that I think you might find useful. People I think you should contact—”

“Wait a minute,” Jake said. “I came here to tell you that I’ve decided against taking you on as a client.”

Northrup gazed at him in amazement. “You what?”

“I have another case,” Jake said, not bothering to tell him it was the same case, different client. “I have a feeling it’ll be taking most of my time.”

Northrup’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “Now see here, we had an agreement.”

“No, we didn’t,” Jake said. “I told you I’d let you know my decision this morning, and I’ve done that.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” Northrup warned as Jake stood to leave. “I could open a lot of doors for you, young man.”

True enough, Jake thought. But the longer he was around Northrup, the more certain he became that he’d made the right decision. Northrup had a hidden agenda. A man like him always did. Jake just wasn’t sure at the moment what it was, but he would find out. In due time, he would find out what Victor Northrup was up to.

“I think I’d rather open my own doors,” Jake said, reaching for the knob. “But thanks anyway.”

As Jake was leaving the building, Jeremy Willows caught up with him. Willows was tall and lanky, a well-
groomed, unattractive man with thinning brown hair and a perpetual scowl that made him look older than his forty years.

Growing up on the Kingsley estate, Jake had often seen Willows walking around the grounds alone, never with any friends and never with Andrew. Willows had been an odd sort, even back then. The chasm between the stepbrothers had been much greater than their five-
year age gap. Andrew had been outgoing and adventurous, foolhardy at times, whereas Jeremy had always been quiet and studious and prone to bouts of pouting when he didn’t get his way. Which he usually did, if his mother, Pamela, had anything to say about it. According to Andrew, she doted on Jeremy while completely ignoring her stepson, except when Edward and Iris were around.

After a while, she didn’t even bother to keep up the pretense. She couldn’t stand Andrew, and he knew it. He’d told Jake once, when they were still friends and Andrew had still been allowed to play with Jake, that Pamela had hated Adam even more than she hated Andrew because even at the tender age of three, Adam had never been taken in by her beauty. He’d screamed bloody murder every time she came near him.

As Jake stood looking at Jeremy Willows now, the thought occurred to him that if Andrew’s car crash hadn’t been an accident, Jeremy and Pamela probably had the strongest motive of all for doing him in.

“What were you doing in Victor’s office just now?” Jeremy asked.

“I think you’d better ask him that,” Jake said.

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “Did it have something to do with Michael Eldridge?”

Jake shrugged. “Like I said, you’d better ask Mr. Northrup that question.”

“You know, of course, that my grandmother has forbidden anyone to investigate Mr. Eldridge.”

Jake said nothing. He wondered if Jeremy would run tattling to Iris, and how Northrup would handle the situation if he did. But that was none of Jake’s concern. He turned and started walking toward the door that would lead him to the street.

Willows fell into step beside him. “I can’t think of any other business someone like you would have with Victor Northrup.”