The High Price of Secrets

by Yvonne Lindsay

  Tamsyn slammed the album shut and staggered to her feet, unsure of what to do next. The sound of a car coming up the driveway gave her her answer. It could only be one person.

  She turned to the door and easily unlocked the deadlock from inside—it was, after all, designed to keep people out of the room, not in it. She left the door ajar as she strode down the hallway toward the front door. Finn stood there in all his God-given glory, fresh and handsome in a pale gray suit, white shirt and tie.

  “I heard about the storm, are you all right? You look—”

  She jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger, taking him completely by surprise. “You knew!” she shouted, unable to contain her anger a second longer. “You knew all along and you lied to me! Why?”

  For a second he almost looked as if he was about to deny her accusation, but then a cold, calm expression settled over his face, his eyes turning arctic.

  “I never lied to you.”

  “You did,” she insisted, fighting back the burning sensation that began to sting her eyes. Be damned if she was going to cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve her tears after the way he’d taken her trust, her fragile heart and stomped them under his feet as if she was nothing. “You deliberately withheld the truth from me when you could have told me from day one where I could find my mother. Worse, you let me trust you.”

  “Look, I told you that Ellen didn’t live at my house. That’s the truth.”

  “But you never thought to tell me that she lived here.” Tamsyn uttered a bitter laugh. “Oh, I bet you had a good old chuckle about that when I took on the lease. What a freaking joke. Tamsyn Masters living in her mother’s house and not even knowing it. I suppose the whole town has been having a roaring time at my expense. Tell me, does everyone know?”

  His silence told her everything.

  “How could you do that to me?” she asked brokenly, the anger suddenly leaving her in a rush, leaving behind an awful hollowness.

  “How did you find out?”

  “Is that all you can say?”

  Tamsyn stood and waited for his response, but he simply continued to stare her down. The generous lover who’d left her bed yesterday morning was a far cry from the man standing before her now.

  “The storm did some damage, broke a window in the room with the locked door. I was trying to clear it up a bit from outside when I saw a picture on the wall.”

  “Show me.”

  She turned and went back up the hall, standing outside the now-open door and gesturing inside. Finn stood next to her as he surveyed the damage, the twisted blinds, the remnant of tree branch still dangling from the window frame.

  “You broke into the boxes? Into their personal effects?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t you?” Tamsyn defended herself and pushed past him to pick up the album that had held the damning evidence that showed his complicity. “Who is this?” she demanded, stabbing at a photo of the blonde girl.

  “That’s Alexis.”

  The name was familiar. Yes, the designer. “Alexis Fabrini?”

  “She’s your half sister.”

  Tamsyn wobbled on her feet, her legs suddenly as weak as if she’d emptied a flagon of wine straight down her throat. It was only the solid presence of the doorjamb that kept her upright. She had a sister? She looked at the photo again, this time noticing the similarities between them, the things they’d both inherited from Ellen.

  “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?” Her voice was weak, thready with shock. She let out a bitter laugh. “Why am I even bothering to ask? I’ve got no reason to believe anything you tell me anymore—or ever again.”

  * * *

  Finn tried to ignore the clawing pain in his chest. He had known this would come to pass, that he’d hurt Tamsyn immeasurably. He’d just hoped to stave it off for longer, for Ellen’s health to rally and for Lorenzo to perhaps agree to let Tamsyn visit her mother in the hospital. Then he could have told her the truth himself—broken it to her gently. He’d never wanted her to find out like this.

  “Look,” he said, shoving a hand through his hair, “Ellen is a much loved member of this community. If people didn’t talk about her it’s because they wanted the best for her—to protect her.”

  Pain streaked across Tamsyn’s face, leaving it even paler and more drawn than it had been seconds ago.

  “Protect her from me? Her own daughter? Why, Finn? Why wouldn’t I be considered to be the best for my mother?”

  His arms ached to reach out and comfort her. Finn closed his eyes and wished fiercely that he could turn back time, could avoid the trip that had taken him away from Tamsyn and left her alone when she was exposed to the truth.

  “I guess most people feel that you took your time trying to find her.” The words sounded lame, even to his ears.

  “But you know I only found out this year that she was even still alive. She walked away from us, Finn. She left her two children in the hospital—injured in an accident she caused—and never looked back. Abandoned us, for what? So she could be with her lover?” Tamsyn stabbed her finger now at a picture of Lorenzo. “I didn’t know where she was, Finn, you know that and I know that. Ellen, however, knew exactly where Ethan and I were and she never tried to contact us. I want to know why. Don’t I deserve to know why she left us and why she never came back? Why was she happy to be dead to us?”

  Finn put out a hand to touch her but she flinched away from him. It cut him to his core to know he’d irreparably damaged the relationship they’d begun to develop. Damaged? Hell, he’d destroyed it, crushed it like a bug, pure and simple. He’d done it for Lorenzo, for Ellen—people he’d do anything for. But, God, how he wished he’d never had to do this.

  “I can’t tell you that, but I’ll do what I can to see you find out.”

  She looked at him from eyes bruised with disappointment and grief. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to do? You’re not going to tell me where she is?”

  “I can’t promise any more than that, Tamsyn. I’m sorry, but they’re not my secrets to tell.”

  “So, at least you admit that you’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

  “I have, and I regret it. If I could—ah, what’s the point?” He cursed under his breath. “I’ll do what I can, and I’ll get someone on to that window, too.”

  He turned and walked down the hall, painfully aware of her gaze drilling steadily into his back as he left.

  * * *

  Tamsyn watched him go—a stranger to her now. She’d thought Trent’s betrayal had cut her deep, but this was something else. She stalked down the hall and slammed the front door shut, then slid down the wall into a heap on the floor. Shock and anger had rendered her numb for the time being, but even through the numbness she could feel waves of pain building.

  She daren’t open her mouth for fear of the scream she knew would come out. Instead, she clenched her teeth, wrapped her arms around her body and rocked in silent agony.

  Her mother left her. Check. Her mother didn’t try to stay in touch. Check. She’d been let down by her mother. Check. She’d been lied to and let down by—oh, let’s see—her father, her extended family, her ex-fiancé, her personal assistant, Finn. Check, check, check, check and double check.

  At the last she began to feel her tentative control break. What did it matter to her that Finn had added his name to the illustrious list? It wasn’t as if they’d known each other long or as if they’d promised undying love for one another. It wasn’t as if she even should have thought she could trust him. Hadn’t there been that tiny niggle in the back of her mind for some time that he was hiding something?

  Instead of listening to her instincts, she’d allowed him to play her for a fool. She’d been so pathetically desperate to be spontaneous, to be carefree, to be happy that she’d let herself be bli
nded to the truth. A man like Finn, he was no better than the rest. Worse, even, for having used her pathetic need for acceptance against her like that. For having inveigled his way into her day-to-day existence so that she’d come to rely upon him, need him. Love him.

  No! Not that, never that. Tamsyn squashed down so hard on the thought that her head began to throb with pain. It had been attraction. Pure and physical. Okay, very physical, she amended as she burrowed her face into her hands. She didn’t love Finn, she couldn’t. Her senses had been seduced by his attention, that was all it was. She’d have to have been both blind and stupid not to find his attentiveness appealing. It had been a salve to her wounded pride like nothing else could be. And look where that had left her, she thought bitterly.

  Tamsyn pushed off the wall and went to the door to the previously locked room. She ought to pick up the broken glass, set the boxes back to rights, but she couldn’t summon the care or the interest required to do so. Instead, she went back to her bedroom, kicked off her shoes and pulled the covers up over her. She felt as if she’d been hit by a freight train—physically and mentally. She craved oblivion, even if only for a couple of hours. Then she’d be able to cope, to figure out what she had to do next, because right now it all seemed far too hard.

  The sun was low in the sky when the constant chirp of her mobile phone woke her. Tamsyn groggily reached out to the bedside table for the device.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Masters? It’s Jill from the letting agency.”

  “Ah, yes, about the damage—”

  “I’ve talked with the property owner, Mr. Fabrini, today and he’s asked that you move out.”

  Move out? While a pane of glass was being replaced?

  “I beg your pardon? That seems extreme.” Tamsyn forced her sluggish brain to function. “It’s only a pane of glass that needs to be replaced. Surely I can remain while that’s done?”

  “I don’t think you understand me, Ms. Masters. Mr. Fabrini has requested you vacate the property permanently.”

  The words slowly sank in. “What? Vacate the property? But the lease—”

  “Is a week-by-week agreement that can be terminated at any time by any party without notice. You will be refunded for any overpayment.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m aware of that.” Tamsyn had thought the rental conditions to be very unusual at the time, but they’d suited her so she hadn’t questioned it. Of course, she’d assumed she’d have at least a week’s notice of the owners’ intention to return before being asked to vacate.

  “Then you’ll make other arrangements?”

  “Of course. I don’t suppose you have any other properties on the books at the moment that might be suitable?”

  “I’m sorry, no. There’s a festival in the area and all our casual rentals are completely booked out. Have been for some time.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, if you could just give me a few days until I find something—”

  “Ms. Masters, I’m sorry. Obviously I didn’t make my client’s wishes clear. Mr. Fabrini wants you out of the cottage today.”

  Seventeen

  “Today?”

  “He was most insistent.”

  She just bet he was. What was it Finn had said before he left? That he’d do what he could? Well, it appeared he’d done it, all right. He’d obviously spoken with this Mr. Fabrini and her eviction was the result. Anger slowly began to replace the hollow pain that had consumed her this morning.

  “Fine, I’ll be a couple of hours.”

  “That will have to do, I suppose.”

  Too damn right it would, Tamsyn thought, severing the connection without saying goodbye. She pushed up off the bed and methodically stripped the sheets, taking them through to the laundry and throwing them in the machine together with the towels from the bathroom. She had half a mind to leave them in there, wet, but her own standards wouldn’t let her slide that low no matter how badly she was being treated. Or by whom.

  Methodically she went through the motions of setting the house back to exactly how she’d found it—pushing the vacuum cleaner through, remaking the bed, laying fresh towels in the bathroom and clearing the perishables from the fridge. By the time she’d finished, and her case was packed, she felt completely empty inside. Not surprising, she realized, as she’d eaten nothing all day. Still, the thought of food was the furthest thing from her mind. More pressing was the need to find somewhere to stay tonight. And the next. Mr. Fabrini probably wanted her to leave New Zealand, too, but that wasn’t happening. Not today. Not until she found her mother—no matter who stood in her way.

  After feeding Lucy, and shooing her outside and locking up the house, she drove into town to leave the key with the letting agency. Then she stopped in a local café. Christmas decorations hung in a jaunty display of festivity in the window, and the sound of carols greeted her as she went inside. Feeling more like a modern-day Scrooge than anything approaching Christmas cheer, she ordered coffee and a slice of quiche to eat while she searched on her smartphone for local accommodations.

  Starting with Penny’s place, she began calling around. Half an hour later she was no nearer to finding a roof to put over her head. Everything in town, and beyond—even the local motor camp—was booked solid. At this rate she’d be sleeping in her car.

  At least the rental car company hadn’t canceled her contract on that, she thought cynically, using her fork to push the now-cold quiche around her plate. She knew she should eat, but her appetite had deserted her.

  “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

  Finn towered over her table, forcing her to crick her neck to look up at him.

  “What, not finished lying to me yet?” she replied, determined not to show any sign of weakness to this man who’d proven as two-faced as all the rest of them.

  “I heard what Lorenzo did. I want you to know I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “You really expect me to believe you? Goodness, and when you’ve been so honest and forthcoming with me already.” The sarcasm fairly dripped from her tongue. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve had my full quota of unpleasantness today.”

  She picked up her bag, grabbed her car keys and rose to her feet, determined to head back out to her car and put a decent amount of distance between her and Finn. She’d no sooner gotten out of her chair when a wave of dizziness hit her, sending her straight back down again. She rested her head in one hand, her elbow on the table, as she waited for the world to right itself again. Finn’s hand descended on her shoulder.

  “Are you all right?”

  She gave a strangled laugh. “Of course, I’m fine. I have a mother who is determined to hide from me, a friend who betrayed my trust, a landlord who’s evicted me and a dearth of places to stay tonight. Things couldn’t be better, thank you.”

  “Come with me. Stay at my house.”

  She lifted her head and stared at him incredulously. “You have to be kidding me, right?”

  His eyes bored straight back into her. “Why not? I have plenty of room. I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Of course she wasn’t worried about that. There was no way she was letting Finn Gallagher touch her ever again.

  “I’d rather sleep in my car.”

  She got up to leave again, but that same dizziness sent her reeling, making her drop her keys. Finn’s hand shot out to steady her.

  “You’re in no condition to drive anywhere. What were you thinking of doing? Settling down for the night here on the main street?”

  She shot him a malignant glare. “If I must.”

  “Not happening. You’re coming with me. We can pick your car up tomorrow.”

  He swiped her keys from where they’d fallen on the table and called out to the man behind the café counter. “Hey, B
ill, could you park the blue hatchback around the back for me for tonight? We’ll be back tomorrow for it.”

  “Sure, Finn, no problem.”

  Finn tossed the keys to Bill then wrapped his arm around the back of Tamsyn’s shoulders and pulled her into his side. She resisted for as long as she could, but then found herself sagging into him. The rough stormy night combined with the morning’s revelations and the eviction had completely done her in. For now, it was easier to simply let him take charge. Tomorrow, however, would be another story altogether.

  * * *

  Tamsyn woke the next morning to the sound of someone coming into her room. She jolted upright in bed, clutching the covers to her.

  “What do you want?” she demanded as Finn settled a cloth-covered tray on the bed beside her.

  “I thought you might like breakfast.” He whipped the cloth off the tray. “And we need to talk.”

  “Unless you’re going to tell me where my mother is, I have nothing to say to you,” she said.

  Her mouth watered as she looked at the freshly buttered toast and preserves he’d laid out on the tray, and her nostrils twitched at the enticing coffee-scented aroma borne on gentle wafts of steam coming from a white porcelain mug.

  “Then maybe you can listen.” He sat down on the bed and repositioned the tray across her thighs. “Eat,” he commanded.

  Figuring that if her mouth was full she wouldn’t have to talk to him, Tamsyn spread some orange marmalade on a slice of toast.

  “I talked to Lorenzo last night.”

  “That was good of you,” she conceded mockingly around a mouthful of toast. “And what did the illustrious Mr. Fabrini have to say? Did he rescind his eviction order?”

  Finn’s mouth twisted. “No, he was adamant he didn’t want you staying at the house any longer.”

  “Tell me, what did I ever do to him to make him hate me so much?”

  “It’s not you, it’s—look, I can’t say. I gave my word I wouldn’t tell you and I’m honor-bound to hold to that. I owe Lorenzo a lot.”