Letters to Caroline (The Talmadge Sisters Book 1)

by Barbara McMahon

  She wondered who the interior decorator had been. Either totally into the modern scene, or thinking because Brandon was a guy this is what he'd like.

  Stretching slowly, Caroline sat up, the lacy confection of her gown wasted, she thought ruefully.

  Brandon hadn't swept her away after the discussion last night. Now it seemed as if they were further from resolving their situation than ever. He wanted children. She couldn't risk it without a built-in guarantee, which she knew life didn't give.

  Sighing softly, she worried she'd made a mistake in coming, in considering Brandon's tantalizing suggestion.

  She pushed away the sheets and rose. The sky was clear blue, the sun peeping over the horizon. She had lots of time before meeting her sisters. Taking a quick shower, she donned one of the lightweight dresses she'd brought. Sandals on her feet would suffice. She didn't plan on a long walking tour today. And she was anxious to see Brandon. To spend time together and see what resulted.

  When she entered the kitchen, Brandon sat at the breakfast nook reading a paper, a half full cup of coffee before him on the table. It looked so ordinary.

  But the rapid increase in her heart rate wasn't ordinary—except around Brandon.

  For a moment, Caroline wanted to lean over and kiss him to start the day.

  Instead she smiled, and said, "Good morning."

  He looked up, his eyes gleaming at the sight of her.

  "Sleep well?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "Not particularly, but not because of the bed."

  "Because you really wanted to be in with me, right?" he teased, rising to fetch another cup and pour her coffee.

  She wondered how long she could avoid answering that loaded question.

  He tilted her face up to his on the way back to the table and brushed his lips across hers. "Well?" he asked, his eyes dancing in amusement.

  "Maybe," she admitted grudgingly. She wanted to be honest if they were to make changes.

  He almost laughed. "No maybe about it. But we have time. In the interim, what would you like for breakfast?"

  "You're going to fix it?" she asked.

  "I will if you want, but I was rather hoping you'd insist on doing the honors. It's been years since I enjoyed your cooking."

  "I could make an omelet," she offered.

  She remembered exactly how he liked his. In fact, Caroline realized, she remembered everything about Brandon—the Brandon she used to know and love.

  That same love that seemed to grow with each passing day.

  Startled to admit to herself she still loved him, she moved away, lest she blurt it out.

  He'd made no mention of love even when suggesting they restart their marriage—more like offered a renewed partnership.

  Was a half loaf better than none? If they resumed their relationship, would he come to fall in love with her again or had her desertion put an end to that forever?

  She wasn't sure she wanted a one-sided arrangement. She wanted to be loved. She realized that since her mother died and her marriage ended, she'd felt lost and alone. She knew her sisters loved her, but it wasn't the same.

  "If I cook today, are you cooking tomorrow?" she asked, opening cupboard doors hunting for bowls and pans.

  "Nope, I thought tomorrow morning we'd get the Sunday paper and head for Café du Monde where we can sip café au lait with beignets and while away the morning reading the paper."

  She smiled. That'd been a tradition for them each Sunday. She thought their brief stop there yesterday afternoon had been for old time's sake. Now she was touched he remembered, and seemed to be doing his best to recapture the delightful aspects of their life together.

  Only on the question of children were they at different ends of the spectrum.

  "When and where are you meeting Abby and Michelle?" Brandon asked as they ate.

  "Court of the Two Sisters at twelve-thirty."

  She'd chosen that restaurant because of the wide spacing of tables. They'd be assured a certain amount of privacy while talking. They could have met at Michelle's apartment, but Caroline wanted to treat her sisters to lunch. As a kind of celebration of her possible return to New Orleans. Not that she was ready to share that with them yet.

  "I'll drop you off on my way to the office. I can pick you up later, if you like," he said easily.

  "Not necessary. One of my sisters can drop me back here. Or I'll get a cab. Or even walk if it isn't too hot."

  Brandon rose and left, returning in only a moment. "Here. If you get back before I do." He held out a key. By its shiny condition, it looked new.

  Caroline stared at it for a long moment. Should she accept?

  He took her hand, dropped the key in her palm and closed her fingers over it. His warm hand engulfed hers. She looked up, a question in her eyes.

  "No strings," he said.

  Did he read minds now? she wondered. When they lived together, he'd seemed completely baffled by her behavior many times. That came from both of them being so young, she thought, so young and untried.

  Now he seemed to understand her better. Or was that wishful thinking?

  Nodding, she slipped the key into her pocket. "I won't lose it."

  "Have you thought about redecorating this place?" he asked as he resumed his seat.

  Hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, Caroline told him her ideas for the different rooms she'd seen. By primarily using accessories in bold colors and a few additional pieces of wooden furniture, she could make the apartment into a warm and beautiful home.

  Brandon rocked back on the rear legs of his chair. He watched her enthusiasm, nodding from time to time. "Sounds like a plan. Run with it," he said at last.

  "I haven't seen the entire apartment."

  "Then come on. I'll show you every nook and cranny."

  Leaving the dishes on the table, Caroline rose and followed Brandon. She'd seen the guest room and the main bath—it was only his bedroom and attached bath she hadn't seen. He walked into the spacious room then turned and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  "My bedroom." He lowered his head and kissed her lightly. "Our room?" he asked softly.

  She swallowed and stepped away to study the room. The unmade bed had a dark spread and navy sheets, It looked functional and masculine. She had flower sheets and a comforter with lots of ruffles on her bed. The contrast was interesting to say the least. Somehow she couldn't envision Brandon sleeping on ruffly, flowered, pastel sheets.

  "What do you think?" he asked.

  "This room really reflects you," she said. "It's got your stamp on it. The rest of the place looks like no one's at home."

  Books were stacked on the bedside table. Change and keys littered the dresser. A large framed photograph of his parents stood in a prominent place.

  She looked quickly away.

  What had she expected? That he'd have a picture of her in his room?

  As far as he'd known, she'd deserted him, relaying the message that she never wanted to see him again. Only an idiot would have kept a picture of someone who'd deserted him.

  Anger at her grandmother boiled anew. Caroline wished she'd known. So much time wasted.

  "Well?" he prodded.

  "Off the top of my head, you don't need much of anything in here," she said. "This room fits you. Maybe some curtains to soften the window. An antique dresser instead of that totally modern one. I think the room would look cozy and inviting."

  "Would you be comfortable sleeping in here?"

  Heat washed through her. Slowly she envisioned staying with Brandon. Sleeping and waking up with him every day. She almost trembled with sudden longing. She'd missed him so much. It was so unfair what Eugenia had done.

  Yet some of the blame fell on her. She shouldn't have left five years ago. She shouldn't have stayed away once the worst of her pain had faded. She'd failed their marriage, not Brandon.

  Slowly, as if reading her mind again, Brandon turned her around and locked her in his arms.

  "Wa
nt to test the bed?" he asked in a husky voice.

  Before she could respond, he lowered his head and kissed her. All thoughts of redecorating fled.

  Caroline was late arriving at the Court of the Two Sisters. Both Abby and Michelle were waiting at a table in the courtyard when she arrived. She hurried to join them.

  "Sorry. Have you been here long?" she asked, slipping into the empty chair.

  "No." Abby said, looking critically at her older sister. She exchanged glances with Michelle. "What have you been up to?" she asked suspiciously.

  Caroline blushed and both her sisters grinned.

  "As if we didn't know," Michelle said.

  "Staying with Brandon, right?" Abby asked.

  Caroline picked up her menu and opened it, nodding once in response, trying to hide from their knowing eyes.

  Michelle reached out and pushed the menu down. "So what is up? Are the two of you going to become an item again? Or is this just a weekend fling?"

  "You don't have flings with your husband," Caroline said primly, wishing she knew how to answer. There was so much to decide. And it all seemed to rest with her.

  "It could be when you haven't seen him in five years. What's the scoop?" Abby asked.

  She hesitated, then shrugged. They'd find out soon enough.

  "Actually, after spending a few days together at Talmadge Hall, we've sort of discussed seeing if we can pick up the threads of our marriage."

  "Is this why we're here? To celebrate some momentous change in your life-style?" Abby asked with a big grin.

  Caroline shook her head. "Nothing's been decided. Actually, when Brandon came to see me a few weeks ago, it was to ask for a divorce."

  "Divorce!" Michelle said.

  "Yes."

  "Why? After all these years?"

  "He can't have found someone new if you are discussing your marriage," Abby said shrewdly.

  "No, it was just—closure, I guess you'd say. To do something to change the status quo after so many years."

  "How are you doing now that you're here?" Michelle asked.

  Both her sisters knew how she equated New Orleans with the saddest time of her life. She hadn't returned since she lost the baby.

  "It is easier than you thought, isn't it?" Abby asked.

  Caroline nodded. "I guess. That old saying that time heals all wounds is true. I'm still sad, but not like I thought I'd be."

  She smiled at her sisters, trying to reassure them.

  The old ache would always be with her, but it was getting easier to go on.

  "If you do get back with Brandon, you should have another baby right away," Abby said, opening her menu.

  "No." Caroline said sharply. "I don't want to go through that again."

  Both women stared at her in surprise.

  "Just because you had one miscarriage, doesn't mean you'll have another one. I bet you and Brandon would produce some beautiful babies. I remember how excited you were when you discovered you were pregnant before. I can't imagine you not wanting a baby. Or two."

  "I don't want to take the risk. Not ever," she said slowly.

  She could tell from the look on their faces they didn't understand. Maybe only another woman who had lived through such heartache would understand. She knew she didn't have it in her to try again. Yes, she might carry a baby to term, but she could also lose it and that she couldn't bear.

  "However, all this is not why I wanted to see you for lunch. Brandon and I'll have to decide what we want to do. When we do, you two will be the first to know. But in the meantime, I have bad news about Eugenia's estate."

  The waitress chose that moment to appear to take their orders. Once she was gone, Michelle turned to Caroline. "Okay, give. What's wrong?"

  "There's no money," Caroline said bluntly.

  "What?" Abby asked in disbelief. "How can there be no money? Grandmother lived lavishly. She belonged to the country club, had that huge old home with servants, always dressed to the nines. A new outfit every time she had a special event to attend. Donations to charities."

  Caroline nodded. "All on borrowed money. It turns out she made some bad investments a number of years ago. She mortgaged Talmadge Hall, then made some more bad investments. Did you ever wonder why she fired the live-in servants? Let the gardener go and made do with someone once every couple of weeks? Because she couldn't afford them."

  "How did she afford the country club fees, then?" Michelle asked.

  "For the last three years Judge Sutherland paid them for her. He died last spring, but there was mention of his gifts in the correspondence grandmother kept—a favor to an old friend, he termed it."

  "Nothing?" Abby repeated.

  Caroline pulled the thick envelope from her tote and pulled out the pages the attorney had given her. She laid them on the table for the others to read if they wanted.

  "If we can sell the house for what we're asking, we'll be able to pay off the mortgage, with hopefully enough left over for taxes. If we sell the furnishings, that'll help pay her last bills. But we'll have to sell everything right away, no holding back any pieces in hopes to find a better price down the road. Selling her jewelry will get us a bit of ready cash, but the two necklaces we thought were diamonds are paste—very nice copies, but she apparently sold the originals years ago."

  "Was that why she was so adamant we marry money?" Abby said slowly.

  "No, she always wanted that," Michelle said. "I remember even as a little girl her admonishing me to mind my manners so I could fit in with a certain family."

  Caroline took a deep breath. "There's more."

  Michelle looked at her. "Can't be worse, this has been enough of a shock."

  "It doesn't have to do with money. It's about our father."

  Abby and Michelle looked blank.

  "Let me guess, he wasn't really married to our mother," Michelle said wryly.

  "Actually, he was. Sam Williams."

  "Huh?" Abby asked.

  "Didn't you ever wonder why our name was Talmadge, same as grandmother's?"

  "Yes, but I'm with Michelle, I thought maybe when he cut out Mother she found the marriage was bigamous or something and took back her maiden name. Or kept it all along."

  "I don't think women did that as much back then. No, I think grandmother insisted. Just like she did when I left Brandon. She very much wanted me to get a divorce, you know. To marry a man fitting the Talmadge name. She was obsessed with the Talmadge name."

  "So Sam Williams is dear old daddy," Michelle said scathingly.

  "I don't think he left voluntarily," Caroline said slowly.

  The waitress set their plates on the table, asking if they needed anything else. When she departed, both Abby and Michelle ignored their meal.

  "More," Abby said.

  "I should have told you earlier, but I wanted to make sure. Eugenia rambled those last few days before she died. Said all sorts of things. The worst of which was that she had sent Sam packing."

  "Delusional," Abby said. "I've seen it all the time in the hospital. Doesn't mean anything."

  "Maybe not, but added to what else I found, I think it does."

  Caroline related how Eugenia had kept Brandon and her apart. Then she showed them the letter from Edith. Finally she repeated as best she could remember her grandmother's exact words.

  Stunned, the sisters looked at each other.

  "Wow," Michelle said.

  "Amen!" said Abby.

  "She was a witch!" Michelle said. "It's unconscionable what she did to you and Brandon. I remember how you were hurting when you lost the baby and how devastated you felt when Brandon never called. So now it turns out he did try. Many times. I'd like to wring her neck!"

  Caroline nodded. "You can't imagine the rage I felt when I learned about it. And about our father, too."

  She looked down at her salad, pushing it around the plate with her fork. "I always thought I'd done something to make him leave."

  "That's dumb—and you know it!" Michelle sai
d. "You were a little girl. He was a grown man."

  Caroline shrugged. "I'm telling you what I thought. I think it made it easier for Eugenia to drive a wedge between Brandon and me. I guess I sort of expected him to desert me like our father had done earlier."

  "Now what? Is he alive?"

  Caroline shrugged. "I have no idea."

  "I'd like to know. If he's alive, I'd want to ask him why he left," Michelle said slowly. "And why he never came back for us. Do you suppose he didn't hear about Mama's death? Maybe he thinks we're all living happy lives with her. How could he stay away from his own children? Surely over the years he'd have found some way to contact us."

  "It had to be something grandmother did. Once I discover the full story, I guess I'd want to see if we can find him. To get answers. Maybe learn what he's been doing all this time. Find out if he ever missed us," Caroline said. "But right now, I'd settle for learning the full story."

  The sisters were silent for a long time. Abby nibbled on her lunch. Michelle drew patterns on the condensation of her glass of iced tea as she leafed through the packet the attorney had provided.

  "What next?" she asked after a long moment.

  Caroline shook her head. "I don't know. That's why I wanted to get together. We have to decide how to handle the estate."

  "According to the expenses the lawyer totaled, the estate owes a lot of money."

  Abby looked at her shrewdly. "I bet Brandon would help."

  "I'm not asking," Caroline said firmly.

  "Why not?" Michelle asked. "He's loaded, if what I hear about him is anything to go by. And I bet he wouldn't mind—especially if you two are getting back together."

  "Oh, right—and have him think that I want to be together for what he can do monetarily?"

  "He's not going to think that. The man was crazy about you. He must still be to want you back after all this time." Michelle said. "Ask him."

  "No. And I don't need you to tell me what happened five years ago. Do you think I've stopped thinking about it for a single day?"

  "Then sell the stuff and get as much as you can for everything right away and we'll see if it'll cover the bills," Abby interjected.

  "We could have an estate sale, I suppose," Caroline said, thinking aloud.