Spring Bride

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Spring Bride Page 14

by Sandra Marton


  Her banker was surprisingly silent while she told him her plans. Her attorney was, too, when she called to say that she wanted him to use the auction’s proceeds to fund a charity.

  “A charity?” he choked.

  “Yes. I’m not sure what kind yet—we’ll just put the money into a trust or something for the time being. Can we do that?”

  “Well, yes, Miss Landon, but—”

  “Good,” Kyra said briskly, and hung up.

  Late that afternoon, head bent against yet another snowstorm, she was fighting her way uphill from the stables when she stumbled into a broad-shouldered male figure.

  Her heart did a swift, double-step beat.

  “Antonio?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Landon.”

  Kyra swallowed hard and silently cursed herself for being a fool. It was her attorney, Carl Higgins—and standing just behind him, like a Gordon setter honoring a point, was Regis Emory, her banker.

  “Mr. Higgins. And Mr. Emory. What a pleasant surprise.” She stomped past them toward the door of the house. “Won’t you come in?”

  After a few minutes of polite chitchat, Higgins got to the point.

  “Miss Landon,” he said with a bright smile, “Mr. Emory and I have been talking.”

  “Indeed,” Kyra said with an equally bright smile. “About me?”

  “Well, yes. We have some concerns, you see. About your plans.”

  Kyra didn’t say anything. Higgins looked at Emory, then at her.

  “We cannot imagine your father would approve.”

  Kyra’s smile hardened. “Neither can I But I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

  “Miss Landon—” Emory, the banker, gave her a paternal smile “—isn’t it foolish, such formality? Why don’t we simply call you ‘Kyra’?”

  Kyra sat down in a wing chair and crossed her legs. “That’s fine with me, Regis.”

  The banker’s false smile quivered at the edges. “Ah—ah, where was I?”

  “I’m not sure, Regis. I think you were about to tell me that I was making a terrible mistake, planning alterations for this house and selling off my father’s things.”

  “Ah, well…”

  “And you, Carl,” Kyra said, turning to the attorney, “were going to say that my father would never approve of my using the money from the sale to fund a charity. Isn’t that right?”

  Emory and Higgins exchanged a swift look, and then Higgins cleared his throat.

  “Kyra, my dear,” he said, “we know the past months have been a strain for you. You are not yourself, and-”

  “On the contrary. I am very much myself, Carl.”

  “What we suggest is that you put yourself in our hands.” His smile was patronizing enough to make Kyra’s teeth ache. “We can understand your wish to make some changes in your life. Perhaps what you need is a vacation.”

  “Thank you for your advice, but I’ve already had one.”

  “Is that what you were doing in Venezuela?” Emory said. “You never did explain why I had to wire you money a few months ago.”

  “No I never did. And I’m not going to.” Kyra rose and regarded them both coolly. “Now, if that’s all…?”

  “Kyra, surely you can see our only concern is for your best interests.”

  “What I can see is that your concern is for what Charles Landon would want.”

  “Dearest Kyra—”

  “On second thought, I would much prefer it if you’d call me Miss Landon.”

  “Kyra—Miss Landon—as your father’s representatives, we must advise you against destroying his home and selling off his property!”

  “It isn’t his home,” Kyra said. “Nor is it his property. It’s mine. And if you two can’t understand that and see yourselves as my representatives instead of his, I’ll replace you.” Head high, she marched to the library door. “Good day, gentlemen. I’m sure you can find your own way out.”

  It didn’t really surprise her when the nhone rang a couple of hours later. It was a conference call from Zach and Grant, who stumbled through some inconsequential small talk before getting to the point.

  Was it true that she was tearing down the mansion, selling off everything in it, and giving all her money away?

  Kyra sighed. “I’m not tearing the house down,” she said, “but I am planning renovations. And I’m not going to sell everything—whatever stuff you want, you’re more than welcome to. And no, I’m not giving all my money away. I’m only designating the profits from the sale of the furnishings to a charity.”

  “What charity?” Grant said.

  A scholarship fund for underprivileged Native American children, Kyra almost said. Instead, she frowned. Where had that idea come from?

  “I’m—I’m not sure yet. Besides, what does it matter?”

  Zach cleared his throat. What mattered, he said, was her. Had she really thought this through?

  Yes, Grant added. Was she sure this was what she wanted to do?

  Kyra sighed. “I’m absolutely certain.” Her brothers began talking at the same time. “Look,” she said, “it’s almost Christmas. Why don’t you guys fly out here for a couple of days? I know you’re busy, but this way I can meet your wives. And I’ll answer all your questions.”

  “Good,” Grant said briskly. “And then we’ll decide what’s the best course of action.”

  “No,” Kyra said gently but very firmly. “No, Grant, we won’t decide anything. I’ve already reached a decision. But I’m more than willing to try to make you understand it.”

  After Kyra hung up, Grant and Zach stayed on the line.

  “Something’s wrong,” Zach said.

  Grant agreed. “She’s confused. She misses Father.”

  “Yeah.” Zach sighed. “Well, we knew she would. She loved the old man a lot. Look, I’ve got a number somewhere for Cade. I’ll call him.”

  “Fine. Tell him to meet us in Denver next week. Hell, we can’t let our baby sister screw up her life.”

  Zach and Eve, Grant and Crista, all flew into Denver on the same day. It was snowing—there was nothing unusual in that. What was unusual was that it was Kyra who met them at the gate, not the Landon chauffeur.

  After lots of hugs and kisses, Grant looked around.

  “Where’s Jeffers?” he said.

  Kyra, who was busy getting to know her new sistersin-law, gave him a distracted smile.

  “He retired. Didn’t I mention it?”

  “No. No, you didn’t. Who’d you hire in his place?”

  “No one,” Kyra said. She leaned toward Crista and touched her index finger to one of Cnsta’s delicate silver earrings. “Did you make these? I just adore them!”

  “Well,” Zach said, “never mind. We’ll hire a new chauffeur while we’re here. In the meanwhile, where’s the limousine driver?”

  “No,” Kyra said, “you won’t hire a chauffeur. And you’re looking at the limousine driver.”

  Zach and Grant stared at each other in horror. “You mean, you—you’ve been doing your own driving?” Grant sputtered.

  “Why on earth not? I’ve had a license for years.”

  “Well, during the summer I suppose it’s okay. But in snow, on these roads…”

  “The Land Rover has four-wheel drive.”

  “Yes, but-”

  “Oh, Grant.” Crista looped her arm through her husband’s. “Stop sounding so stuffy! Kyra’s not a baby.”

  “Of course she isn’t,” Zach said in a conciliatory tone. “It’s just that you girls don’t know what it’s like driving on these roads in winter.”

  “Kyra grew up here,” Eve said as she took her husband’s arm. “Just like you guys. As for us ‘girls’…” Her delicate brows lifted. “Personally, I don’t see a girl in sight, darling. I see three perfectly capable grown women.”

  Kyra laughed. She was, she could see, going to adore her sisters-in-law.

  But Grant and Zach exchanged glances
that said maybe they should have left their wives at home.

  Cade and Angelica flew in the next day, grubby and exhausted from a seemingly endless flight from Europe that had involved half a dozen layovers.

  “We got married during the last one,” Cade said with a boyish grin. “Heck, there was nothing else to keep us occupied ”

  Angelica gave him a gentle punch in the arm. “I’ve no idea why I love this man,” she said to her new family.

  “Probably because I’m the only guy who’d ever put up with you,” Cade said, grinning even harder. “And because I love you so much you took pity on me.”

  Everyone laughed, including Kyra. But her laugh caught in her throat. She had loved like this once, so deeply that everything else was unimportant.

  No. No, it wasn’t true. Your own self-respect was always important. Besides, she hadn’t loved Antonio. She’d only thought she did.

  Suddenly, horribly, her eyes filled with tears. Kyra pulled a tissue from her pocket and jammed it to her eyes.

  “Coming down with a cold, Squirt?” Cade asked.

  “Yes,” she sniffed, and he smiled.

  But she hadn’t fooled her sisters-in-law.

  “Kyra’s unhappy,” Eve whispered to Zach late that night.

  “She’s depressed,” Crista murmured to Grant at almost the same moment.

  “She’s terribly sad,” Angelica told Cade, “and I’d bet it has something to do with a man.”

  The next morning, after unwrapping the presents under the tree in the library, Eve, Crista and Angelica made seemingly casual exits. Zach, Grant and Cade sat down and faced Kyra.

  “Well,” Grant said.

  “Well,” Zach said.

  Cade cleared his throat.

  Kyra sighed. “Okay,” she said, “here it is in a nutshell.” She took a breath. “I hate this house.”

  Her brothers looked as if she’d told them she was running off to join a circus.

  “Hate it?” Grant shook his head. “Don’t be silly. You love it!”

  “I hate it,” she said patiently. “I always have.”

  “But—but you never said—”

  “Of course I didn’t! I was stuck here. And then, after Father died, I knew you guys had this happy image of me waiting on the hearth like a cocker spaniel.”

  Cade frowned. “Okay. Okay, so you don’t like the house, But don’t you think you’re being a little hasty, selling off all the old ma…all Father’s stuff?”

  Kyra looked at him. “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why? Because—because you’ll regret it, that’s why. Because he loved these things and they’re yours now. Don’t you want them around you for remembrance?”

  Kyra walked to the fireplace and poked at the logs blazing on the grate.

  “Actually, I’ve got enough bad memories of Father to last a lifetime. I’m hoping that changing this house will make some of them go away so I can begin to remember some of the good ones.”

  Her brothers stared at her in silence. “What bad memories?” Zach finally said.

  Kyra tossed the poker onto the hearth. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, are you all still so blind? I know how miserably our father treated you guys!”

  “But he adored you,” Grant said.

  “Yes. He adored me—at the expense of all the rest of you! And he wouldn’t have adored me half so much if I’d ever stood up to him and told him what I really thought.”

  “Kyra,” Cade said, moving toward her, “baby—”

  “I am not a baby, any more than I was Father’s angel! I just pretended I was his oh-so-sweet girl because it helped keep the peace.” She glared at all three of her brothers. “Well, he’s gone now. I loved him in spite of himself, I suppose. But there’s no need for me to keep pretending anymore, is there?” She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t mind hanging on to the house—every family needs a place to think of as home. But I’m going to bring some light and warmth and happiness into this horrible place and if you guys have a problem with that, to heck with all of you!”

  Silence fell across the room. Then, one by one, Kyra’s brothers began to grin.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Cade finally said, and in a second the four Landons were in each other’s arms. When they broke apart, Kyra smiled.

  “You know what? I almost feel like a full member of the Deadeye Defenders.”

  Zach looked at her. “You remember all that?”

  Kyra held up her hand in the secret Deadeye sign. “Deadeye Defenders never lose,” she said, grinning.

  The brothers smiled. “Membership it is,” Cade said.

  Kyra smiled. “With full voting rights? This country’s into sexual equality, in case you hadn’t heard.”

  Her brothers laughed. “Okay,” Grant said, “hold out your right hand.”

  Kyra did and the Landons clasped hands in what had once been the brothers’ childhood ritual.

  “Cross my heart and hope to die, join the ghosts up in the sky, it’s the truth and not a lie, Deadeye Defenders never cry,” they intoned.

  “We hereby declare you a Deadeye,” Zach said solemnly.

  “Thank you,” Kyra said just as solemnly.

  They all smiled and stepped apart again. Cade cleared his throat.

  “Being a full member of the Deadeyes gives you certain obligations,” he said briskly. “For instance, you’ll have to resolve a difference of opinion between my gorgeous wife and me.”

  Kyra looked at him. “About what?”

  He smiled as if what he was about to say was too ridiculous for words.

  “You’ll laugh.”

  “Try me.”

  “Well, Angelica somehow got it into her head that you’d taken a tumble for some guy and ended up getting your heart broken.”

  Kyra gave a snort of indignation. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I told her.”

  “I haven’t taken a tumble for anybody.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And if I had—if I had, I certainly wouldn’t have let him break my heart!”

  Cade nodded. “That’s what I told Angelica. I said, hey, my sister’s no jerk. She’d never let some guy do that to her.”

  “You’re damned right I wouldn’t. Why—why…”

  Kyra’s gaze flew over her brothers’ smiling faces. It was so good to have them here. But no one, not even her wonderful brothers, could fill the hole in her heart that had been there since she’d lost Antonio.

  Without warning, a sob burst from her throat.

  “Hey,” Zach said, “hey, Sis ..”

  She swung away, but not in time. She was weeping, and she couldn’t seem to stop.

  Behind her, the Landon brothers threw stunned looks at each other All three of them took a step toward Kyra, then drew back.

  After what seemed a long, long while, she took a deep breath and turned to face them.

  “Sorry,” she said as she saw their stricken expressions. “I—I didn’t mean that to happen.”

  Grant pulled a white linen handkerchief from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She nodded, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, sank down on the edge of the stone hearth, and gave Cade a smile so wistful it made his throat tighten.

  “Angelica was right,” she said. “I did fall in love. It just—it didn’t work out.”

  The questions came hard and fast. Who was the man? Where had she met him? What had gone wrong?

  Kyra held up her hand. “I won’t go into details. What happened, happened. The bottom line is that I—I fell for a man who—who didn’t really love me.”

  Grant’s face grew dark. “What do you mean, he didn’t love you?”

  “Just that. He—he was attracted to me, but we—we just couldn’t agree on what we expected from each other.”

  “What did he want? Money? Property?” Zach’s hands balled into fists. “Who is this bastard, Kyra?”

  “I won’t discuss it, Zach. I appreciate your concern, but this is
my life. I messed it up and I’ll do whatever needs doing to get over it.”

  “Yeah.” Cade’s voice was grim. “You really look like you’re getting over it, dammit. No wonder you’ve gotten so skinny.”

  Kyra laughed and blew her nose again. “Now you sound like Stella. I haven’t gotten skinny. Really. I’ve just been busy. I’m taking classes, I agreed to run the Art Exhibit—”

  “Did this guy take advantage of you?” Grant demanded. When Kyra flushed, he cursed under his breath. “Dammit, tell me who he is, Kyra. I’ll take him apart!”

  “I slept with him,” she said, her eyes daring him to object. “But it was my idea as much as his. It was because I loved him. Because I thought I loved him. Because…”

  Oh God! She started crying again. Helplessly, Zach and Cade whipped out their handkerchiefs and handed them to her. Kyra nodded, buried her face in them, and waited until she could speak without weeping.

  She looked up and gave her brothers a wobbly smile.

  “I love you guys,” she said. “And you needn’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine.”

  “Yeah,” Cade said.

  “Right,” Zach agreed.

  “Sure,” Grant added.

  Everyone in the room knew it was a lie.

  In April, the first signs of spring began to appear. Crocuses poked their heads through patches of snow; the cold wind changed to a soft breeze that bore the faintest scent of green, growing things.

  Grant phoned his brothers with news. Landon Enterprises had a buyer.

  “How much?” Cade asked. “Not that I really care—from what I’ve seen lately, the Landon balance sheet looks no better than when we took over.”

  “Yeah,” Zach said, “how much? We cleaned up the Triad mess and the Gordon oil stuff but now everything else is going bad.”

  Grant cleared his throat. “Actually, he hasn’t made an offer yet.”

  “What you mean,” Zach said, “is that we have a buyer but we haven’t negotiated a price.”

  Grant glanced at the tall, broad-shouldered man standing at his office window, looking out at the street below.

  “Well, he says he won’t make an offer unless it’s to all three of us in person. Look, how about if we meet at the Landon offices in Denver 10:00 a.m. next Friday? Can you guys manage that?”

 

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