by Nora Roberts
her stepdaughter’s cheeks. Kelsey caught the subtle scent of L’Air du Temps that mixed with the tea and her grandmother’s signature Chanel.
Drawing-room scents, Kelsey thought; she’d gotten entirely too used to barnyard ones. She embraced Candace with more enthusiasm, almost in apology.
“You look wonderful. New hairdo?”
Instinctively Candace patted her short sable locks. “You don’t think it’s too ingenue, do you? I swear Princeton can talk me into anything.”
“It’s perfect,” Kelsey assured her, remembering suddenly that she hadn’t visited Princeton, or any other hairdresser, for that matter, in weeks. “Hello, Grandmother.” The greeting, like the kiss on the cheek, was stiff and dutiful. “You’re looking well too.”
“You’ve gained back some weight, I see.” Milicent sipped her tea, appraising Kelsey over the rim. “It’s flattering. Be careful you don’t let it go too far, though. Small bones don’t carry weight well.”
“Most of it’s muscle.” Kelsey flexed her biceps just to irritate. “It comes from shoveling manure and hauling hay.” Smiling, she turned to a dubious Candace. “I’d love some tea. Don’t worry, I washed up after the morning workout.”
“Of course, of course. Sit down, dear. Philip, you’re not carrying that garden with you?”
“Not a speck.” He accepted the tea and a tiny sandwich without complaint. When Channing returned home that evening, Philip knew he’d have company on a refrigerator raid. “The azaleas are early this year. I don’t think they’ve ever looked better.”
“You say that every spring.” Affectionately, Candace patted his hand. “You know, we’re the only house on this block without a gardener, and there isn’t a yard that can compete with ours. Not when Philip gets done working his magic.”
“A nice hobby,” Milicent agreed. “I’ve always preferred tending my own roses.”
She turned her attention to Kelsey. At least, she thought, the girl had had enough sense to dress suitably. She’d been nearly certain Kelsey would flaunt her prickly stubbornness by driving out in muddy boots. But the apricot-toned jacket and slacks were flattering, and tasteful.
“As it happens,” she began, “Candace and I were just discussing the floral arrangements for the spring ball. We’re on the committee. You have a good eye for such things, Kelsey. We’ll delegate you to work with the florist.”
“I appreciate the confidence, but I’ll have to pass. I’m afraid I won’t be here.”
“For the ball?” Candace laughed again, poured more tea. “Of course you will, dear. It’s expected. I realize you might feel a little awkward, with the divorce finalized, and Wade attending with his fiancée, but you mustn’t let it bother you. In fact, Milicent and I were just working on a solution to that problem.”
Kelsey started to explain, then stopped. “Oh, were you?”
“Yes, indeed.” All enthusiasm, Candace added a lump of sugar to her tea. “It was certainly sweet of Channing to escort you last year, but we hardly want that to become a tradition. In any case, people will talk less if you have a more conventional date.” The perfect hostess, she offered around the tray of cucumber sandwiches. “As it happens, June and Roger Miller’s son has just moved back to the area. You must remember Parker, Kelsey. He’s been practicing oral surgery in New York for the last few years, and has just taken a position with a prestigious practice in D.C.” She added with a sly smile, “Parker’s never married.”
“Yes, I remember him.” Excellent family, social status. The right schools, the right profession, the right everything. It wasn’t his fault, Kelsey supposed, that she saw him as a Wade Monroe clone.
“I’ve already spoken with the Millers.” Pleased with the maneuver, Milicent sipped the delicately fragrant tea. “Parker will escort you. It’s all arranged.”
Typical, Kelsey thought, fighting a rising anger. It was all so typical. “I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Miller are delighted to have Parker back in the area, and you’ll have to give him my best. But I won’t be here. I’m leaving for Kentucky this week, and won’t be back until after the first weekend in May.”
“Kentucky?” Milicent snapped her cup down in its saucer. “Why on earth are you going to Kentucky?”
“The Derby. Even in your circles, Grandmother, it’s an acceptable event. I imagine it’ll be a very hot topic of conversation at the ball after Three Willows’ colt wins it.” She looked at her father, hoping he would understand. “I’m going to be there when he does.”
“This is inexcusable,” Milicent shot back. “The Bydens are founding members of that club, back to your great-grandfather. We have always attended the ball.”
“Things change.” Kelsey fought to keep her tone reasonable rather than hard. “I have a job, a responsibility, and a need. I’m not willing to overlook any of them for a dance at the country club. And, Candace, as much as I appreciate your concern, I don’t want an arranged escort. I’m involved with someone.”
“Oh.” Candace blinked and struggled to look pleased. “Well, of course, dear, that’s delightful. You must bring him.”
“I don’t think so.” In sympathy, she squeezed Candace’s hand. “I don’t think he’s the country club type.”
“One of your stable hands, I suppose,” Milicent said bitterly.
“No.” Unable to help herself, Kelsey didn’t leave it at that. “He’s a gambler.”
“You’re just like your mother.” Spine ramrod stiff, Milicent rose. “I warned you,” she said to Philip. “You wouldn’t listen to me about Naomi, and you wouldn’t listen to me about her daughter. Now we all pay the price.”
“Milicent.” Standing quickly, Candace hurried out of the room after her mother-in-law.
Kelsey set her tea aside. She’d been sorry almost before the words were out. Not because of Milicent’s feelings, but her father’s.
“That wasn’t very tactful of me,” she began.
“Honesty was always more your forte than tact.”
His voice was weary and stirred up more guilt.
“You’re disappointed. I wish there was a way I could do what I need to do and not disappoint you.”
“It’s a situation that can’t please everyone.” He rose, turning his back to her as he walked to the windows. He could see his azaleas, the tight buds just freeing up the inner blossoms. The blossoms wouldn’t stay trapped, but would burst through the well-meaning protection and spring defiantly to life.
“You’ve connected with her,” he said softly. “I can’t say I didn’t expect it. So much about you is the same, so much more than your looks. A part of me, a part I’m ashamed of, wants to tell you that you’re making a mistake. That you don’t belong there. That part of me doesn’t want to see how happy it makes you that you do belong there.”
“I feel as though I’ve found what I’m supposed to do. That I don’t need to race around the next corner to see if there’s something there more interesting, more important. That’s all I was doing with my life. We both know it.”
“You were searching, Kelsey. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed of it. But I’m tired of it. I’m good with the horses, with the work, with the people. I can’t go back to my apartment, to busywork jobs, to weekends at the club. I feel as if I’m . . .”
“Opening up?” Because it hurt him to look at them now, he turned away from the flowers. “Breaking free?”
“Yes. I didn’t know how dissatisfied I was—especially with myself.”
“That may be.” Candace swept back in. Her jaw was set, her eyes angry. “But you had no reason to be rude. Your father and I, and your grandmother, are only trying to help you through a difficult time.”
“I think,” Kelsey said slowly, “the problem is that this isn’t as difficult for me as you think.”
“Then you might think of others. About how Philip feels. About how all of this looks to outsiders.”
“Candace,” Philip said, “this isn’t necessa
ry.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Maybe you’re right, Candace. I’m very much concerned how Dad feels. I’m sorry, but I don’t have your sensibility about what outsiders think. I don’t want to embarrass you,” she continued, “or cause problems between the two of you.”
“Yet you encouraged Channing to deceive me and stay at that place.”
Boggy ground, Kelsey thought, and cursed Channing for leading her onto it. “I encouraged him to stay, yes.”
“Now he has some notion about going back there, working there this summer.” Flushed with emotion, Candace gripped the back of a chair. “She might have lured you away, Kelsey, but I won’t have her corrupting Channing.”
“Good God.” At wits’ end, Kelsey dragged her hands through her hair. “Where does this come from? You haven’t even met the woman, but you’ve cast her as some B-movie siren who seduces young boys and destroys all she touches. She didn’t open her home to Channing to corrupt him or to spite any of you. She did it for me. And she offered him the job because he showed an interest in the farm.”
“Well, I won’t have it.” Candace detested sounding shrewish, resented the fact that Kelsey’s stubbornness made her so. “I won’t have my son loitering around racetracks and associating with gamblers and a convicted murderer.”
Kelsey dropped her hands. “That’s certainly between you and Channing.”
“Yes, it is. It’s quite true I have no right to tell you what to do.” Her lips quivered. She’d done her best by Kelsey, her very best to be a friend, a guiding force instead of the textbook stepmother. And now, it seemed, she’d failed. “Even if I did, you’d continue to do as you choose. As you’ve always done.”
Philip stepped forward, as perplexed as he was hurt by the outburst. “Candace, we’re losing the perspective here. It’s only a club dance.”
“I’m sorry, Philip.” Her angry embarrassment over the scene with Milicent pushed her forward. Milicent was more than her mother-in-law. She was her friend, and her ally. “I feel I must have my say in this. It’s much more than a dance. It’s a matter of loyalty, and proper behavior. This situation cannot go on. You’ve hurt your father enough by choosing Naomi over him.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” She whirled on her father. “Is that what you think? Can’t you believe that I’m capable of caring for both of you? Of learning to accept, and forgive?”
“You’ve nothing to forgive Philip for,” Candace put in staunchly. “He did everything that was right.”
“I did what I thought best,” he murmured. “This is difficult for me, Kelsey. I can’t tell you it isn’t. But I still want what’s best for you.”
“I’m trying to find out what that is. Or, if not what’s best, at least what’s right. I don’t want to hurt you in the process.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” Candace said wearily. She’d never really understood her stepdaughter. Why should that change now? “The problem here, Kelsey, is the same as it’s always been. You look straight ahead toward a goal and don’t notice the consequences of achieving it. And when you have it, you don’t always want it.”
The thumbnail analysis stung more than any whip of anger. “Which makes me cold and shallow.” Her voice trembled no matter how she fought to control it. “It’s not the first time that’s been pointed out to me, so it’s hard to argue.”
“That’s not true.” Philip took her by the shoulders. “And certainly not what Candace meant. You’re strong-minded, Kelsey, and you can be stubborn. Those are virtues as well as flaws.”
Candace took a mental step in retreat. She knew from experience her preferences would never hold against a united front. “We’re concerned about you, Kelsey. If I criticized too harshly, it’s only because of that concern, and the fact that the situation is becoming difficult for everyone. The recent publicity has stirred up old memories. People are beginning to talk, and that puts your father in a delicate position.”
“Two men were killed.” Steadier, Kelsey stepped back. “I had no control over that, nor do I have any over the gossip it generates.”
“Two men were killed,” Philip repeated. “Can you expect us not to worry?”
“No. I can only tell you it had nothing to do with me, or Three Willows. Violence happens everywhere. The racing world isn’t a hive of vice and debauchery. There’s no time or energy for either when you’re up at dawn every morning. It’s work. Hard work. Some of it tedious, some of it exciting, and all of it, to me, rewarding. There’s no partying every night with champagne and mobsters. Hell, most nights we’re sound asleep before ten. I’ve watched foals being born and seen grown men sing a sick horse to sleep at night. It’s not a Disney movie, but it’s no orgy of sin, either.”
Philip said nothing. He knew he’d lost. It might have been Naomi standing there, defending a world he had never understood, and could never belong to.
“I’m sure it has its merits.” Candace tried for calm. “I’ve watched the Kentucky Derby myself on television, and there’s no denying the horses are magnificent, the entire event exciting. Why, the Hanahans had an interest in a racehorse a few years ago. You remember, Philip. We’re not condemning the entire . . . profession”—she supposed it was called—“we’re concerned about your associations. You did say you were involved with a gambler.”
Kelsey let out a huff of breath. “I said that to needle Grandmother. What I should have said was that I’m interested in a man who owns a neighboring farm. I’m sorry I caused trouble. Now I’ll apologize in advance because I’m about to cause more. I’m not renewing the lease on my apartment. I’m going to stay on at Three Willows, at least for the time being. I may look for a house later in the year, but I’m going to keep working at the farm.”
Candace put a hand on Philip’s arm, a gesture of support and unity. “No matter what the consequences?”
“I’ll do my best to minimize them. I realize you won’t want to visit me there, so I’ll come to you as often as I can. I’ll be out of town for a while, but I’ll call.” She picked up her purse and twisted the strap in her hands. “I don’t want to lose you, either of you.”
“You can’t. This will always be your home.” As Philip gathered his daughter close, Candace said nothing.
It seemed to take longer to drive back. A sobering interlude where Kelsey wavered between tears and anger. Most of the anger died by the time she pulled up at Three Willows. It left too much room for hurt.
She turned from the front door. She didn’t want to go inside just yet and face Naomi. Certainly it would be poor form to discuss with her what had been said about her and the world she lived in. Better, Kelsey decided, to get over it first. To just sit with the fading daffodils and blooming dogwoods until the inner storm passed.
She lost her chance for solitude when Gabe stepped onto the patio.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh. I thought you’d gone.”
He joined her on the narrow stone bench that looked out over early pinks and columbine. “I’m not leaving until tonight.” He’d wanted to see her again. A simple-enough reason to juggle his plans. Taking her chin in his hand, he had a good look. She’d been crying. Both that and the fact that it unnerved him came as a surprise.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, shifted away. “Do you spend much time on self-reflection?”
“Not if I can avoid it.”
“It’s hard to do that when your faults are held up in front of you like a mirror. You look at them, and you see yourself.”
He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and kept his voice light. “Who’s been mean to you, baby? I’ll go beat him up.”
With a half laugh she nuzzled against him, then drew away. “I’m not a nice person, Gabe. And I hardly ever think about trying to be. It used to surprise me when someone would tell me I was spoiled or stubborn or single-minded. And I could say to myself, that’s not true. I’m just doing what seems right to me.”
She spun back, ready to dare him to disagree. “There’s right and there’s wrong. There’s truth and there are lies. There’s law and there’s crime. Take seat belts.”
Cautious, he nodded. “All right. Take seat belts.”
“Maybe before it was passed into law I’d forget to use mine. You’re busy, you’re in a hurry, you’re just going down the block. Why bother? But the minute the law was passed, Kelsey straps herself in. Every time, no question.”
“And you figure that makes you rigid.”
“Before they passed the law it was just as stupid not to use them. The law didn’t change the basic common sense. But I could ignore common sense, never the law. Well, speed limits,” she admitted. “But whenever I overlooked them, I rationalized it. If I went to Atlanta to try to fix my marriage, if I knew something was wrong with it and I was willing to make the effort to work on it, why wasn’t I willing to forgive what I found there? Because he’d made a promise. He’d taken a vow, and he’d broken it. That was enough for me.”
Gabe rubbed a hand over his chin. “Do you want me to tell you that you were wrong to dump the bastard, Kelsey? I can’t, for two reasons. One, I agree with you, and two, I want you myself. I can