Afterward, a few of her friends spoke, saying they would miss her at parties and that she left very big shoes to fill. There was not much to say after that. Natalie was painfully aware that her father said nothing. At one point, he looked as if he was about to stand up, but Rebecca Lynn had linked her arm through his, even while they were seated, and she restrained him from rising. With a shrug, he remained where he was.
As the participants filed by the minister on their way out of the small church, Natalie realized that her father had brought his housekeeper with him. It was she who was in charge of Candace’s two children. With a boy tethered to each hand, the woman managed to keep the boys in check. Mick and David looked oddly subdued, as if they understood what was happening.
In her heart, she sincerely hoped not. Funerals and memorial services were no place for children. Natalie noticed that her half brother was mercifully missing from the service.
Bending down, Natalie looked from one boy to the other. She smiled at them. “You guys okay?” she asked, doing her best to sound upbeat.
Two mop-heads bobbed up and down as they mumbled, “Uh-huh.”
What was going to become of them? she wondered. She doubted that her father was going to allow the boys to move in with him and that would mainly be the fault of the empty-headed witch of the west. Rebecca Lynn would not welcome children who were not her own.
She was tempted to claim the boys herself, but she was realistic. Because of the nature of her work, she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to take them in or adopt them. The job called her away at odd times of the night and day. It was certainly not the most stable environment for two little boys.
But there was time enough to worry about that later, she told herself. Rising to her feet again, she slanted a glance toward Matt. For now, she had more than enough on her plate.
“May I see you for a moment, Natalie?” her father requested, his voice taking on that formal tone that, as a child, used to tell her that she was in trouble.
She turned to Matt. “I’ll only be a minute,” she promised. He nodded and stepped back, after saying, “Sorry for your loss, Mr. Rothchild.”
Harold made no acknowledgment that he even heard him speak. “What were you thinking?” her father demanded the moment Matt stepped away.
She was still angry at him for not getting up to say something, however small, in tribute to Candace. For God’s sake, his daughter was dead. Didn’t he care?
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Dad.”
“You know perfectly well what I’m referring to,” Harold insisted peevishly. He looked at Matt. “How could you bring Schaffer here with you?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “My arrangements, my choice,” but that would put her in the same low class as Rebecca Lynn, so she focused only on addressing his question. “Because he said he wanted to pay his respects to Candace.”
“Respects, huh.” Harold blew out an angry breath. “The bastard just wants to keep tabs on me.”
“I’m sure if that’s what he has in mind, Dad, he would see a reason to have to do it at a memorial service,” she mocked. Turning serious, she added, “Come on, now. I really doubt that this would be the place he’d plan on a confrontation. Besides,” she reminded her father, “you said you owe money to his family, not to him.”
A harsh laugh escaped his lips. “Same thing.”
“No,” she said firmly, thinking of how she related to her own family and their actions; they might share the same last name, but they were not one and the same. “They’re not.”
Chapter 12
When the memorial service was finally over and Candace’s ashes had been placed inside the family mausoleum at the cemetery, Natalie was more than ready to put the whole ordeal behind her. Being around her family for any length of time always managed to exhaust her emotionally if not physically.
Not to mention the fact that the sadness had finally really hit her.
Candace was dead.
All of her life, she had always been accustomed to being one half of a whole. That was just the way things were. She and Candace hadn’t been identical, but there was no denying that there was still an indelible bond. Even when she didn’t see Candace for months at a stretch—other than the usual tabloid in-your-face stories that periodically featured her twin—she knew Candace was out there somewhere. Breathing. Doing. Being her other half.
Now that was gone, and she was no longer part of a set. She had to rethink her existence. Become accustomed to thinking of herself in the singular.
It was an odd, odd feeling. She sincerely doubted that anyone who had never lost a twin would understand, but there was this acute feeling of being lost, of something missing.
Almost, she thought ruefully, slanting a covert look toward Matt, like the feeling she’d had when she’d woken up that fateful morning and realized that he had left her for good.
She supposed that maybe that was her fate in life. To be left behind. Granted that Candace, as self-centered as her twin could sometimes be, hadn’t any control over severing their tie.
But Matt had.
As for now, there was no doubt in Natalie’s mind that, as fantastic as the lovemaking was, Matt was only here temporarily. He’d told her about being based in Los Angeles, and she knew that whenever whatever it was he was attending to for Montgomery was over, Matt would be on the next plane bound for L.A. and out of her life.
Again.
She couldn’t dwell on that now, Natalie told herself, couldn’t fixate on what was to be. She could only live in the moment.
That, and find Candace’s killer, no matter what it took.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Matt commented as he escorted her out of the mausoleum. Outside, the sun seemed particularly bright and the weather oppressively hot for that time of year.
Natalie stripped off her suit jacket. The sleeveless black-and-white silk blouse felt as if it was sticking to her spine. “Just thinking.”
It wasn’t a stretch to guess who she was thinking about. He couldn’t remember Natalie ever looking this sad before.
“About Candace?”
And you. But there was no point in mentioning that, so she merely nodded. “Yes.”
Compassion filled him. “I know what it’s like to lose somebody.” He didn’t seem aware of the quiet sigh he uttered before continuing. “It’s the kind of grief that sticks with you. Eventually, you make peace with it and go on, but it’s always there, somewhere in the shadows, no matter how small and manageable you think it’s ultimately become.”
Natalie stopped walking and looked at him. He sounded as if he was talking about someone he’d loved. Had Matt found someone else after he’d left her after all?
Of course he had, you idiot, she mocked herself. Eight years was a long time for a virile man like Matt to do without female companionship. He hadn’t been that self-contained monk she’d imagined.
A tiny sprig of jealousy sprang up inside her chest. With concentrated effort, she yanked it out by the roots. What was the matter with her? She was an independent woman. Her own person, not some moonstruck young girl—the way she had once been.
Her voice gave none of her feelings away as she asked, “Who did you lose?”
To be honest, she half expected Matt to shrug off her question, or at the very least, to change the subject. But instead he answered her.
“The only one I was ever close to in my family, my mother, Amy. The most selfless woman to ever walk the face of the earth. Even on her deathbed, she wasn’t thinking about herself, but of the family.” He sighed heavily. “She asked me to watch out for my older brother. Scott always had a tendency to get himself into situations that he couldn’t get out of.”
She heard the sadness in his voice. He was serious. “Your mother?” she repeated.
“Yes.” He noted the surprised look on her face. “What did you think I was going to say?”
She lifted her shoulders in a half shrug. “
Some unforgettable love of your life.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “There’s only been one.” His tone of voice left no room for doubt. “There’s only one chance at the brass ring in this life,” he told her solemnly, taking her arm and continuing to walk. “If you’re lucky, you get it. If you’re not…” His voice trailed off, leaving it to her to fill in the blank.
They had almost left the cemetery grounds and Rothchild mausoleum, where her paternal grandparents and her mother were said to be buried, when she noticed him. Had he been there all the time? At the chapel and then at the cemetery? How had she missed him?
“Conner?”
When Matt looked over toward the person she had called out to, Natalie felt him stiffening at her side. “If you want to have a word with him, I’ll wait for you by the car,” Matt offered, his tone almost formal.
The suggestion caught her off guard. “You don’t have to go, Matt,” she told him even as Conner was approaching them.
Matt shook his head. “Better this way,” was all he said as he retreated, then turned on his heel and walked away.
There was obviously no love lost between the two men, she thought. A lot of that going around, she mused.
Her cousin, Conner Rothchild, was a defense attorney for the family’s large, prestigious legal firm: Rothchild, Rothchild & Bennigan. Tall, with hazel eyes and dark brown hair, the thirty-three-year-old lawyer was the older son of her father’s younger brother, Michael. Though Michael Rothchild was a brilliant attorney in his own right, it was obvious to the family that he resented Harold and felt as if he could never crawl out from beneath his older brother’s shadow.
Lots of discord in this family, she thought sadly just as Conner reached her side.
“Hello, Conner,” she greeted him politely, deliberately dispensing with the obligatory air kiss that was so popular among the rich and famous. “I didn’t see you in the church,” she confessed.
“You had a lot to deal with,” he countered. “And I was in the back. I came late. I wasn’t really sure how Uncle Harold would react to my attending the service. You either,” he added with a smile that always had her guessing as to its genuineness.
But that was mainly because they had grown up as adversaries, thanks to the efforts of both their fathers. Until Ricky’s birth five years ago, Uncle Michael enjoyed rubbing her father’s nose in the fact that he had only females in his family while he, Michael, had fathered two strong, strapping sons: Conner and Michael Jr. The implication was not lost on her. To Uncle Michael, women were second-class citizens.
She remembered always feeling as if the family gatherings they had were merely excuses for some sort of competitive comparison. Birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, it didn’t matter. The agenda was always the same. Each brother tried to top the other, and neither was above using their offspring and pitting them against one another like some human form of cockfighting.
Time and again, she could remember being played against Conner and his brother. The competition turned more serious as they grew up. Then it was accomplishment against accomplishment, career against career. More than once, the criminals she had arrested wound up being put back on the street, thanks to the efforts of Conner and her uncle.
“You’re welcome here,” she replied tersely. “It’s a memorial service, not one of those family competitions we were all forced to endure.”
He made no comment about that, or the use of the word forced. He’d been born competitive and loved nothing better than winning. Competitions, to his way of thinking, kept you sharp and on your toes. And the world belonged to the winners, not the losers.
He put on his best somber face. Was he acting? Natalie wondered. “I was sorry to hear about Candace. Do the police know who did it?”
He was pumping her, wasn’t he? She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of sharing any information. “It’s too soon to tell.”
“How about Schaffer?” Conner nodded toward Matt in the distance. The latter stood waiting beside his car at the curb. “Anyone look into where he was the night in question?” he asked. Then, before she could respond, he commented, “Pretty brazen of Schaffer coming here like this.”
There was that protective feeling again, she thought. “And why is that?”
Hazel eyes shifted to her face. “Don’t play dumb, Natalie. It doesn’t become you. Everyone knows your father and Schaffer’s people are connected, but it wasn’t a match made in heaven. More like something that the devil had a hand in orchestrating.” He laughed shortly. “I figure that Matt’s just like the rest of them.” He grew more sober as he added, “Don’t turn your back on him, Natalie.”
Since when did Conner care what she or any of her side of the family did or didn’t do? “Your concern is touching.”
If he was aware of the sarcasm, he didn’t show it. “You are my cousin,” Conner pointed out. “Little amusing rivalries aside, I wouldn’t want to see anything happening to you.” And then he shrugged, as if he knew that his words were being deflected and that she didn’t believe him. “But you’ll do what you want. You were always headstrong that way.” He paused, as if debating adding anything. And then he did. “Just be careful,” he warned again.
“I’m a cop,” she told him. “I’m always careful. I have to be,” she added. “Especially since you managed to put so many of the people with grudges against me back on the street.”
“The cases were weak,” he pointed out. “And remember, innocent until proven guilty.”
Others might buy into her cousin’s charm, but she didn’t. She was immune to it. “Or their money runs out, whichever happens first.”
Conner didn’t bother contradicting her. He actually looked as if he was amused by her rejoinder. And then he took his leave. “Hope the next time I see you, it’ll be under happier circumstances.”
She nodded, then, just as he was turning to go, she decided to ask Conner one question.
“Where’s Uncle Michael?” She knew her other cousin, Michael Jr., was out of town on business, but Candace had been her uncle’s niece. She would have thought that he would have put aside any differences, petty or otherwise, that he had with her father and attend the service. Natalie knew she’d sent him an invitation.
“Home,” Conner confessed, and she saw that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with what he was telling her. “Funerals depress him. He likes to avoid them whenever he can.”
“Obviously, he thought he could,” she concluded with a sigh. Maybe it was better this way after all. Maybe the sight of his younger brother would only further upset her father. “I’d like to say it’s nice seeing you again, Conner, but, well, you know…”
For a moment, they were on the same wavelength and her cousin seemed compassionate. She knew better than to think it might continue.
“Yeah, I know,” he answered. “Well, take care of yourself, Nat.” And with that, Conner turned away and walked off in the opposite direction, where he’d parked his car.
Matt came to attention and dropped his arms to his sides as he saw Natalie part ways with Conner and begin to head toward him. He waited until she was only a few feet away before he asked, “So what did your cousin have to say?”
She couldn’t help wondering if Conner had come out of a sense of obligation, because no one else from his side of the family had attended—or if there was another reason for his presence. Her suspicious mind was due in part to her job description and in part because of her family background. Hardly anyone did something for no reason at all.
“Why?” she asked, stopping at the curb. “Were your ears burning?”
Matt looked mildly surprised. “Your cousin didn’t have anything better to do than talk about me?” He held the passenger-side door open for her.
Independent or not, she had to admit she liked encountering touches of chivalry. And if nothing else, Matt knew how to treat a woman like a lady. Surrendering a smile, Natalie got into the car.
“Not talk about you so m
uch as warn me about you,” she corrected.
He’d just rounded the hood and was getting in himself. He stopped mid-motion, then slid in behind the wheel. “Warn you?” What the hell was Rothchild warning her about?
“Uh-huh.” Pulling on the shoulder strap, she fastened her seat belt securely. “Seems that he thinks you might have an ulterior motive for being here. Or at least that you have some kind of an agenda.”
His first comment was drowned out by the sound of the engine turning over. She had a hunch that maybe it was better that way.
“We all have agendas,” Matt told her as he pulled away from the curb and wove his way into the flow of traffic. “Mine is keeping you safe.”
It had been a very long time since anyone had even pretended to take care of her. “Excuse me?”
“Just in case this does involve some kind of a vendetta.” He couldn’t tell if his answer offended her sense of independence. To be honest, he didn’t much care. What he did care about was making sure nothing happened to her. But, to keep the peace, he explained himself. “You’ll have to forgive me, but that’s the kind of culture that I grew up in. Vendettas and paybacks. If that is the case, you’re going to need someone watching your back.”
“I’m a police detective,” she once again reminded him. “I can watch my own back. Besides,” she reasoned, “I’m practically estranged from my family and I am so not like a Rothchild. Why in heaven’s name would I be in any kind of ‘danger’—assuming there’s a shred of truth in this theory of yours?”
He didn’t bother telling her that he had a gut feeling about this. That there was more to this ring business than Harold was telling her and that, for some reason, it had cost Candace her life. What he did was try to spell it out in neutral terms.
“Because, if it does involve revenge, whoever is responsible most likely is not your garden-variety rocket scientist who has carefully thought this all out. Most people who seek revenge are driven by emotions, not logic.” And that Matt knew for a fact. If growing up a Schaffer had taught him nothing else, it had taught him that.
The Heiress’s 2-Week Affair Page 13