by Penny Jordan
‘Oh, and thanks for the invitation to dinner next week, we’d love to come.’
The invitation to dinner…? Next week? Silas opened his mouth and then closed it again. His daughter, he decided grimly, was going to have some serious explaining to do.
It was five o’clock when Verity finally pulled into Silas’ drive, empty thankfully of his car, but she knew she couldn’t escape until he returned home to care for his daughter. Besides, Honor was not feeling very well.
‘My stomach hurts,’ she told Verity.
‘I’m not surprised. You did have two milk shakes,’ Verity reminded her.
‘It’s not that kind of pain,’ Honor came back quickly. ‘It’s the kind you get when you feel sad and…and lonely.’
Once they were inside the house, though, Honor suddenly remembered something she had to do outside.
‘You stay here,’ she told Verity, pushing open the kitchen door. ‘I won’t be long.’
The kitchen was generously proportioned and comfortable. In the adjoining laundry room Verity could see a basket perched on top of the tumbledryer, a pile of clean laundry next to it as though someone had pulled it from the machine and not had time to fold it.
Automatically she walked through and started to smooth out the crumpled garments. Honor’s underwear and school clothes and…
Her fingers tensed as she picked up a pair of soft male briefs, white and well styled. Her hands were trembling so much she almost dropped them. Quickly she put them down as though they had scalded her. She could hear Honor coming back.
‘I bought Dad those for Christmas,’ she told Verity, picking up the briefs.
‘I’m learning to cook at school. You should have dinner parties and invite people round.’
Verity looked at her.
‘Dinner parties?’ she questioned warily.
‘Mmm…Catherine’s mother has them all the time. Dad was saying last week how embarrassed he felt because he wants to invite them round here but he doesn’t have anyone to help him. I mean, he’s okay really with the food, but it’s the other things, isn’t it?’ Honor asked her earnestly. ‘The flowers and the…the placements. Myra says that those are very important.’
The placements. Verity bit her inner lip to keep her mouth straight. It would never do to laugh and hurt Honor’s feelings. The last time she had heard someone referring to the importance of their placements had been at a stuffy Washington diplomatic dinner.
‘Er…yes,’ she agreed. ‘Well, I’m sure that Myra would be only too pleased to act as hostess for your father.’
‘She can’t,’ Honor told her quickly, ‘It’s…Catherine’s mother doesn’t like her…Perhaps you could do it?’ Honor suggested.
Verity’s eyes widened.
‘Me? But…’
‘I don’t know how well you can cook, but I could help.’
Verity automatically continued to fold the laundry. Now she stopped and turned to Honor.
‘Honor,’ she began gently, ‘I don’t think—’
‘Dad’s back, I just heard the car,’ Honor interrupted her, adding quickly, ‘Don’t say anything to him about the dinner party…He doesn’t like people thinking that he can’t do things.’
Outside the kitchen door Silas hesitated. Just the sight of Verity’s BMW had raised his heartbeat. What the hell was the matter with him? Hadn’t he learned his lesson the first time around? Eleven years ago Verity had rejected him in favour of her uncle’s business and he was a fool if he allowed himself to forget that fact.
Even so, the sight that met his eyes when he finally pushed open the kitchen door was one that made him check and curl his hand into a hard warning fist. Verity and Honor were standing in the laundry room deep in conversation, Honor holding the end of the sheet that Verity was busily folding.
‘Dad always says that it’s a waste of time to iron them because no one but us ever sees them.’
No one! Verity’s heart gave a quick thud. Did that mean that Myra and he…? Or was it simply that he discreetly chose not to share a bed with his lover in the same house where his daughter slept?
‘Dad!’ Honor cried, releasing the sheet as she saw her father and bounding across the kitchen to hug him with such very evident love that Verity’s heart gave another and even more painful lurch.
It was so obvious, watching the two of them together, not just that Honor was Silas’ daughter but also how much they loved one another. There was nothing false or artificial about the way Silas held his daughter.
‘Thank you for helping out,’ he told Verity formally. ‘I—’
‘Dad, Verity took me shopping. Just wait until you see what we bought. I told her you’d pay her,’ Honor hurried on, ‘but she still wouldn’t let me have some of the things I wanted. There was this top and these leggings…’ She began enthusiastically explaining the eye-popping ensemble to Silas before adding, ‘But Verity didn’t think they were my colours.’
Over her head Silas’ eyes met Verity’s.
Thank you, he mouthed silently before turning his attention back to Honor and telling her gravely, ‘I’m sure she was right.’
‘Well, that’s what I thought because her own clothes are so beautiful,’ Honor agreed. ‘Don’t you think she looks luscious in that suit, Dad?’
Luscious…
Verity could feel her face starting to grow warm as two identical pairs of eyes studied her Donna-Karan-clad body.
‘She certainly looks very…elegant…and successful,’ Silas agreed quietly. But somehow, instead of sounding like a compliment, the words sounded much more like condemnation, Verity recognised grimly.
‘I was just telling Verity how much you want to have a dinner party,’ Honor chattered on, apparently oblivious to the tension growing between the two silent adults. ‘She said she’d love to come and help you and it will help her to get to know people as well, won’t it?’
‘Honor…’
As they both spoke at once, Verity and Silas looked at one another.
‘Now you’re both cross with me…’
Bright tears shimmered in Honor’s hurt eyes as her bottom lip wobbled and she turned her head away.
Verity was immediately filled with guilt and contrition. Out of her own embarrassment and reluctance to have Silas think that she was deliberately inveigling her way back into his life, she had inadvertently hurt Honor.
Silas looked less concerned but he was still frowning.
‘This dinner party,’ he began, ignoring his daughter’s tear-filled eyes. ‘It wouldn’t be the same one that Catherine’s mother informed me she would be delighted to attend, when I bumped into her in the supermarket earlier, would it, Honor?’
Honor gave him a sunny smile.
‘Oh, can they come? Good…Catherine’s mother is a brilliant cook,’ she informed Verity, ‘and—’
‘Honor!’ Silas began warningly.
Quickly Verity picked up her handbag.
‘I think I’d better go,’ she announced quietly.
‘Go? Oh, no, not yet. I wanted you to stay for supper,’ Honor pleaded.
‘I’m afraid I can’t…I…I have another appointment,’ Verity fibbed.
Honor’s eyes widened.
‘But this afternoon you said that you were staying in tonight by yourself,’ she reminded Verity in a confused little voice.
‘I’ll see you out,’ Silas told her, shooting Honor a quelling look.
‘Thank you once again for looking after Honor,’ he told Verity formally as he accompanied her politely to her car.
Verity daredn’t allow herself to look at him but suddenly he was striding past her, examining the front wheel of her car.
‘You’ve got a flat tyre,’ he told her sharply.
Disbelievingly Verity looked at her car.
‘I…I’ve got a spare,’ she told him, but he was shaking his head,
‘That won’t do much good,’ he said curtly. ‘The back one’s flat as well. They’ve both got nails in the
m,’ he informed her. ‘You must have driven over them.’
‘Yes, I must,’ Verity agreed, shaking her head. ‘But I don’t know where. If I could use your phone to ring a garage…’
‘You can, but I doubt you’ll be able to get it fixed until the morning,’ he told her dryly. ‘It’s more likely the garages round here will all be shut now.’
Helplessly Verity studied her now immobile car. How on earth had she managed to run over two nails—and where? She certainly hadn’t been aware of doing so, nor of driving anywhere where she might have expected loose nails to be lying on the ground.
‘Let’s go back inside. I know the local dealer, I’ll give him a ring,’ Silas suggested.
Silently Verity followed Silas back into the house.
Watching them from the sitting-room window, Honor surreptitiously crossed her fingers. So far, so good—the plan to get them together was working beautifully. It had been hard work driving those nails into the tyres, though—much harder than she had expected.
‘You can’t do that,’ Catherine had protested, her eyes widening in a mixture of shock and excitement when Honor had told her what she had planned to do.
‘Watch me,’ Honor had challenged her, bravado covering her brief twinge of guilt at what she had to do.
Verity waited in the kitchen with Honor whilst Silas went into his study to ring the garage. When he came back his expression was grave.
‘The garage can’t come out until tomorrow, I’m afraid, which means that you’re going to have to spend the night here.’
Verity opened her mouth to protest and say that if he couldn’t run her home she could get a taxi, and then, for some inadmissible and dangerous reason, she found that she was closing it again.
‘Oh, good, now we can play Scrabble and you can share my bedroom,’ Honor was saying excitedly.
‘Verity can sleep in the guest bedroom,’ Silas reproved crisply, ‘and as for Scrabble—’
Verity smiled. Honor had told her earlier in the day how much she enjoyed the game.
‘I’d love to play with her,’ she interrupted Silas pacifically, adding truthfully, ‘It’s always been one of my favourite games.’
‘Yes. I… I enjoy it as well,’ Silas agreed.
Her heart hammering too fast for comfort, Verity wondered if that slight hesitation in his voice had been her imagination. Had he, as she had momentarily felt, been about to say that he remembered how much she had enjoyed Scrabble?
Ridiculous to feel such a warm, fuzzy, sentimental, inappropriate surge of happiness at the thought.
‘I still can’t understand where I managed to pick up those nails,’ Verity commented, shaking her head.
They had just cleared away after supper and Honor had gone upstairs to get the Scrabble.
‘Where they came from is immaterial now,’ Silas pointed out. ‘The damage is done…’
‘Mmm…’
‘More wine?’ Silas offered her, picking up the still half-full bottle from the kitchen table.
On the point of refusing, Verity changed her mind. What harm could it do, after all, and since she wasn’t driving…? The meal they had eaten had been a simple one of chicken and vegetables, prepared by Silas with Honor’s rather erratic assistance.
It had touched Verity, though, when Honor had insisted on dragging her out to the garden with her so that they could find some flowers to put on the table.
‘Dad, when you have the dinner party, you’ll have to use the dining room,’ she told her father whilst they were eating. ‘I’ll show you the dining room afterwards, Verity,’ she informed Verity with a woman-to-woman look. ‘You’ll need to know where everything is.’
‘Honor,’ Silas began, ‘I don’t think—’
But Honor refused to listen to him, turning instead to Verity and demanding passionately, ‘You will do it, won’t you, Verity? Please,’ before telling her father, ‘You don’t understand…I hate it at school when the others talk about the parties their mothers give. I can tell that they’re all feeling sorry for me. I know that Verity may not be able to cook, but we can have just as good a dinner party here as they have.’
After such a passionate outburst, what else could Verity do other than swallow her own feelings and give in? Silas, she suspected, must be swallowing equally hard—harder, perhaps, if the frowning look on his face was anything to go by.
‘You had no business inviting Catherine’s mother and father round, though, no matter the circumstances…’ Pausing, Silas shook his head before adding sternly, ‘No business at all. But since you have, I agree that we can hardly tell Catherine’s mother the truth. Please don’t feel that you have to get involved, though—’ he told Verity.
‘I’d be happy to help,’ Verity cut him off, looking him straight in the eye as she told him quietly, ‘I know how Honor feels, but, of course, if there’s someone else you would prefer to act as your hostess…?’
She waited. Would he tell her that, by rights, Myra ought to be the one hostessing his dinner party? And what if he did? Why should that concern her?
‘No. There’s no one,’ he denied before adding, ‘Besides, this will be Honor’s dinner party, I suspect, not mine…’
‘You can choose the wine, Dad,’ Honor informed him in a kind voice. ‘That’s the man’s job. What will we do about food?’ she asked Verity excitedly.
‘We’ll sort something out,’ Verity promised her whilst she mentally reviewed which of her favourite dishes she should serve.
In London she had had little time for giving dinner parties, but when she had they had been occasions she had thoroughly enjoyed.
Good food, good wine and good friends—most of all good friends; they were a recipe for the very best kind of entertaining. But she didn’t know Silas’ friends and the situation was bound to be both uncomfortable and awkward. He was being polite about it now, just as he had been good-mannered about the accident to her tyres and the fact that he had been forced to offer her a bed for the night. But they both knew how he really felt about her.
Quickly now, Verity reached for her wine and took a deep gulp, grimacing a little as the wine’s sharpness hit her palate.
‘You never did have much of a head for alcohol,’ Silas commented, watching her.
Silently their glances met and held.
‘That was over ten years ago,’ Verity finally managed to tell him huskily. ‘My…tastes have changed since then.’
‘Here it is…’
Both of them looked round as Honor came bounding into the room carrying the Scrabble.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘RIGHT, time for bed…’
‘Oh, Dad, just one more game,’ Honor protested, but Silas was already shaking his head.
‘You said that last time,’ he reminded her sternly.
Diplomatically Verity busied herself tidying up the letters and putting everything away. Honor had needed no allowances made for her and she had thoroughly trounced them, not once, but twice—perhaps because in Verity’s own case, at least, her concentration had been more on the words that Honor had formed than matching them, she admitted, quickly glancing away from Honor to the board.
Love…Tiff…Quarrel…Mama…Surely she was being over-sensitive in her reaction to seeing those words? After all, Honor knew nothing about the past, their shared past.
Quickly Verity broke up the words and folded the board.
‘You will come up and say goodnight to me, won’t you?’ Honor begged Verity, adding determinedly, ‘I want you both to come up…together…’
Verity couldn’t bring herself to look at Silas. Instead she went to wash the empty coffee mugs whilst Silas took Honor upstairs.
She was just about to remove their wineglasses when he came back down.
‘No, leave those,’ he told her. ‘We might as well finish off the bottle.’
‘I’ll just go up and say goodnight to Honor,’ Verity told him huskily.
Standing in the kitchen on her own whilst he�
�d been upstairs with Honor had given her too much time to think, to remember…to regret…
If things had been different Honor could have been her child…If things had been different…If Silas had not rejected her…If…If…But what use were ‘ifs’? No use whatsoever to an aching, lonely, yearning heart. A heart that still beat ridiculously fast for a man who had hurt it so badly.
Honor was lying flat beneath the bedclothes, her hair a dark mass on the pillow. Automatically as she bent to kiss her Verity smoothed it back off her face.
‘I do like you, Verity,’ Honor told her softly. ‘I wish you could be here with us for always…’
Sharp tears pricked Verity’s eyes. She wasn’t totally gullible, and she was perfectly well aware that Honor wasn’t averse to using soft soap and flattery to get her own way, but for once there was no mistaking the very real emotion in the little girl’s voice. The real emotion and the real need, Verity recognised.
Honor was looking, if not for a mother, then certainly for a mentor, a role model, a woman with whom she could bond. None knew better than she herself just how it felt to be on the verge of young womanhood without any guiding female influence in one’s life, Verity acknowledged. It was one of the loneliest and most isolated places on earth—almost as lonely and heartache inducing as being without the man you had given your heart to.
Her uncle, although providing for her material welfare, had been oblivious to the emotional needs of a young girl, and Verity remembered with painful clarity how she as a young adolescent had tried desperately to attach herself to the mother of a school friend, and then, when that had been gently discouraged by the woman in question, she had turned instead to one of her schoolteachers. But both women, although kind and caring, had had their own families and their own lives, and their distancing of themselves from her had left Verity feeling even more bereft than before—and not just bereft, but sensitively aware of being gently held at a distance.
Honor, she suspected, although on the surface a very different girl from the one she had been, was going through a similar stage. There was no doubting Silas’ love for his daughter, nor his caring paternal concern for her. He was, Verity could see, a father who was very actively involved in his daughter’s life, but Honor was making it plain that she wanted a woman’s influence in her life as well as her father’s.