The front door opened, and she paused on the stairs, momentarily blinded by the dazzling sunlight reflected on the polished tiles. She blinked at the dark figure whose wide shoulders and wide-brimmed hat filled most of the doorway. Then he stepped inside and closed the door, letting aleather satchel drop to the floor, and her heart nearly stopped as realization dawned.
it had been ten days since he'd sent her home, and he hadn't sent advance word of his arrival. She had begun to fear that he wouldn't come after all, though Webb had always kept his word before. Maybe he'd decided the Davenports weren't worth the trouble; she wouldn't have blamed him if he had.
But he was here, taking off his hat and looking around with narrowed eyes as if assessing the changes made during the gap of ten years. They were few, but she had the feeling he noted every one. His gaze even lingered momentarily on the carpet that covered the stairs. When he'd left, it had been beige; now it was oatmeal, with a thicker and tighter weave.
The physical impact of his presence nearly staggered her. To see him standing there with the same natural assumption of authority, as if he'd never left, gave her an eerie sense of time having stood still.
But the differences in him were sharp. It wasn't just that he was older or that he was dressed in jeans and boots instead of linen slacks and loafers. Before, he had tempered the force of his personality with southern good-old-boy geniality, the way business was done down here. Now, however, he tempered it with nothing. It was there, sharp and hard, and he didn't give a damn if anyone didn't like it.
Her chest felt oddly restricted, and she struggled to breathe. She had seen him naked, had lain naked in his arms. He'd sucked her nipples, penetrated her. The sense of unreality made her dizzy again. In the week and a half since she had seen him, their lovemaking had begun to seem like a dream, but at the sight of him, her body began throbbing anew as if he had just withdrawn from her and her flesh still tingled from the contact.
She found her voice.
"Why didn't you call? Someone would have met you at the airport. You did fly in, didn't you?"
"Yesterday. I rented a car at the airport. Mother and I spent the night in Huntsville with Aunt Sandra, then drove back this morning."
The intense green gaze was on her now, taking inventory of the suit and pearls, perhaps comparing the sleek stylishness of her clothes with the fashion failure she'd been as a teenager. Or perhaps he was comparing her now to the naked woman who had writhed beneath him, screaming as he brought her to climax. He'd rejected her fast enough, so the vision couldn't have been an enticing one.
She flushed hotly, then felt the color fade as fast as it had come.
She couldn't continue to stand there like an idiot. Carefully regulating her breathing, Roanna came down the last few steps to pause at his side.
"Lucinda's in the study. We were going to go over some papers, but I'm sure she'll want to talk to you instead."
"I came back to take care of business," he said briefly, already striding down the hall to the study.
"Bring me up to speed. The homecoming party can wait."
Somehow she kept her unruffled facade in place as she followed him. She didn't throw her arms around him, brokenly crying, "You're home, you're home," though that had been her first impulse. She didn't shriek with joy or cry. She merely said to his back, "I'm glad you came. Welcome home."
Lucinda seldom sat at the huge desk that had been her husband's, finding the overstuffed sofa more comfortable to her old bones. She was there now, leafing through several printouts of recent stock performances. She looked up when Webb entered, and Roanna, right behind him, saw the bewilderment in the faded blue eyes as she stared at this big, rough stranger who had invaded her domain. Then she blinked, and recognition dawned as brilliantly as the sunrise, bringing with it a flush of excitement that chased away the grayness of ill health. She struggled to her feet, printouts scattering across the thick Aubusson rug.
"Webb! Webb!"
This was the enthusiastic, tearfully gleeful welcome Roanna had been longing to give him and couldn't. Lucinda rushed toward him with her hands out held either not seeing or ignoring his shuttered expression. He didn't open his arms to her, but that didn't stop her from throwing her own arms around him and hugging him tightly, her eyes swimming with tears.
Roanna turned toward the door, intending to give them some privacy; if she and Webb had had a special relationship when she was younger, at least in her own mind, he had definitely had a strong, special relationship with Lucinda that rivaled his feelings for his mother. Even though Webb had come back for Lucinda's sake, there were hard feelings between them that needed to be settled.
"No, stay," Webb said when he noticed Roanna's movement. He put gentle hands on Lucinda's fragile old arms and eased her away but continued to hold her as he looked down at her.
"We'll talk later," he promised.
"For now, I have a lot of catching up to do. We can start with those." He nodded to the papers on the carpet.
If there was anything Lucinda understood, it was the concept of taking care of business. She wiped her eyes and nodded briskly.
"Of course. Our broker will be here at nine for a meeting. Roanna and I have made it a practice of going over our stock performances beforehand, so we are in agreement on any actions before he arrives."
He nodded and bent down to pick up the papers.
"Are we still using Lipscomb?"
"No, dear, he died, about ... oh, three years ago, wasn't it, Roanna? Heart trouble ran in his family, you know. Our broker now is Sage Whitten, of the Birmingham Whittens. We've been pleased with him, for the most part, but he does tend to be conservative."
Roanna saw the wry expression cross Webb's face as he readjusted to the nuances of southern business, where everything was tinged with personal information and family relationships. Probably he had become accustomed to a much more straightforward method of doing things.
He was already studying the papers in his hand as he strolled over to the desk and started to drop into the massive leather chair. He halted and gave Roanna an inquiring glance, as if checking her reaction to this abrupt takeover of both territory and authority.
She didn't know whether to cry or shout. She had never really enjoyed business but had nevertheless staked out her own territory. Because this was the only thing in her life for which she had ever been needed, by Lucinda or anyone else, she had worked doggedly to understand and master the concepts and applications. With Webb's return she was losing that territory, and her usefulness. On the other hand, it would be a relief not to have to sit through any more interminable meetings or deal with businessmen and politicians who questioned her decisions with barely veiled condescension. She was glad to be rid of the duty but had no idea how she was going to replace it.
She allowed none of her ambivalence to show in her expression, however, maintaining the blank wall of indifference she presented to the world. Lucinda resumed her seat on the sofa and Roanna walked over to one of the file cabinets to extract a thick folder.
The fax machine beeped and began to whir as a document printed. Webb glanced at it, then at the rest of the electronic equipment that had been installed since he'd left.
"Looks like we're on the information highway."
"It was either that or spend most of my time traveling," Roanna replied. She indicated the computer on the desk.
"We have two discrete systems. This computer and printer are for our private records. The other one"-she pointed to the electronic setup in the corner, arranged on a custom built oak computer desk--is for communication." The second computer was hooked up to a modern.
"We have the dedicated fax line, e-mail, and two laser printers. I'll show you the programs any time you want. There's also a laptop for traveling."
"Even Loyal is on computer now," Lucinda said, smiling.
"The bloodlines are thoroughly cross-referenced, and his files include breeding times, results, medical history, and identification tattoos. He'd as proud of the system as he would be if it had four legs and neighed."
He glanced at
Roanna.
"Do you still ride as much as before?"
"There isn't time."
"You'll have more time now."
She hadn't thought of this benefit to Webb's return, and her heart gave an excited leap. She missed the horses with painful intensity, but her statement had been the flat truth: there simply hadn't been time. She rode when she could, which was enough to keep her muscles accustomed to the exercise, but not nearly enough to satisfy her. For now she had to devote herself to the intricacies of handing over the reins to Webb, but soon-soon!-she would be able to begin helping Loyal again.
"If I know you," Webb said lazily, "you're already planning to spend your days in the stable. Don't think you're going to dump everything in my lap and play hooky. I'll have my hands full with all this and my Arizona properties too, so you're still going to have to handle some of the work."
Work with Webb? She hadn't considered that he'd want her around, or that she would still be of any use. Her heart gave that little leap again at the prospect of being with him every day.
He concentrated then on studying the diagrams and analysis of stock performances and considering the projections. By the time Sage Whitten arrived, Webb knew exactly where they stood in the stock market.
Mr. Whitten had never met Webb before, but by his startled expression when he was introduced, he'd heard the gossip. If he was dismayed by Lucinda's explanation that Webb would henceforth be handling 0 the Davenport concerns, he hid it well. But no matter what people suspected, Webb Tallant had never been charged with the murder of his wife, and business was business.
The meeting was concluded faster than usual. Scarcely
had Mr. Whitten left than Lanette breezed into the study.
"Aunt Lucinda, there's a bag of some sort in the foyer. Did Mr. Whitten-?" She stopped dead, staring at Webb seated behind the desk.
"The bag belongs to me." He scarcely glanced up from the computer, where he was reviewing the history of a stock's dividends.
"I'll take it up later."
Lanette's cheeks were blanched, but she rallied with a forced laugh.
"Webb! I didn't know you'd arrived. No one told us you were expected today."
"I wasn't."
"Oh. Well, welcome home." Her tone was as false as her laugh.
"I'll tell Mama and Daddy. They've just finished breakfast, and I know they'll want to welcome you themselves."
Webb's eyebrows lifted sardonically.
"Is that so?"
"I'll get them," she said, and fled.
"About the bag." Webb leaned back in the chair and swiveled so he was facing Lucinda, who was still on the sofa.
"Where do I put it?"
"Wherever you want," Lucinda firmly replied.
"Your old suite has been completely redecorated. Corliss has taken it over, but if you want it she can move into another room."
He rejected the offer with a slight shake of his head.
"I suppose Gloria and Harlan have one of the other suites, and Lanette and Greg the fourth one." He slanted an unreadable look at Roanna.
"You, of course, are still in your old room on the back."
He seemed to disapprove of that, but
Roanna couldn't imagine why. Left uncertain of what to say, she said nothing.
"And Brock has one of the regular bedrooms on the left side," Lucinda said, confirming his supposition.
"It isn't a problem, though. I've been considering what can be done, and it would be a simple matter to connect two of the remaining bedrooms by opening a door between them, and converting one of the rooms into a sitting room. The remodeling could be done within a week."
"That isn't necessary. I'll take one of the bedrooms on the back. The one next to Roanna will do fine. It still has a king size bed, doesn't it?"
"All of the rooms have king beds now, except Roanna's." He gave her a hooded look.
"Don't you like big beds?" The motel bed where they'd made love had been a double. It should have been too small for the two of them, but when one person was lying on top of the other it reduced the need for space. Roanna barely controlled a blush.
"I don't need anything bigger." She glanced at her watch and gratefully got to her feet when she saw the time.
"I have to go to the county commissioner's meeting, then I'm having lunch with the hospital administrator in Florence. I'll be back by three."
She leaned over to kiss the wrinkled cheek Lucinda presented to her.
"Drive carefully," Lucinda said, as she always did.
"I will." There was an element of escape in her departure, and from the way Webb was looking at her, she was sure he'd noticed it as well.
After lunch, Webb and Lucinda returned to the study. He had endured Gloria and Harlan's effusive, embarrassingly false welcomes, ignored Corliss's sulky bad manners, and been fussed over by Tansy and Bessie. It was plain as hell that only Roanna and Lucinda had wanted him back; the rest of his family obviously wished he'd stayed in Arizona. The reason for that was pretty plain, too: they'd been mooching off Lucinda for years and were afraid he'd boot them out on their asses. It was a thought. Oh, not Gloria and Harlan. As much as he knew he'd dislike having them around, they were in their seventies, and the reasons he'd given Roanna ten years ago for their moving in were even more valid now. But as for the others ... He didn't plan to do anything right away. He didn't know the details of their individual situations, and it was a lot easier to get his facts straight before he acted than it would be to repair the damage done by a wrong decision.