Volcano

by Patricia Rice

  “It’s been a long time, Charles.” Emile nodded graciously in Charlie’s direction, then immediately turned all his masculine attention to Penelope.

  As Emile appraised Penelope, Charlie fought the primitive urge to shove his stepfather’s eyes back in their sockets. Instead, he draped his arm possessively over Penelope’s shoulders.

  “Penelope, my stepfather, Emile St. Philippe.” To Charlie’s relief, he heard Tamara’s cane tapping down the hallway. Deliberately ignoring the startled look in Penelope’s eyes, Charlie pushed her in his sister’s direction. “I need a word with Emile. Why don’t you ask Tamara to show you her seashell collection.”

  Her spine stiffened, and he could almost hear the protests grinding through that transparent mind of hers. Then she gave him a swift look, softened, and with a wicked gleam, patted his cheek.

  “I do so love seashells, darling. You just go have your old boring man talk. Tamara and I will have a lovely time without you.”

  Spiked, tackled, and brought low, Charlie grinned in appreciation of her sarcasm. Unable to resist the final play, he patted her on the rear as she passed by.

  Unseen from Emile’s direction, she shot him a glare that should have pierced and wounded, and warned of retaliation in the immediate future. Lord, but he loved a good fight. His blood was pumping in anticipation already. As Penelope reached Tammy and led her from the room, Charlie turned his attention back to his stepfather.

  “Lovely woman. Do you know her family?” Emile was still following Penelope’s path as she glided out the door. He swirled his martini as he watched.

  Charlie had considered punching Emile out the day he’d discovered his stepfather’s love nest. Out of respect for his mother, he’d resisted. But so help him God, if the man laid a single finger on Penelope, any semblance of respect flew out the window. He’d bury the creep.

  “No one you would know, I’m certain,” he responded coldly. “And that’s not why I’m here. How much do you know about the new construction in Soufriere?”

  With the women out of sight, Emile reluctantly returned his attention to his stepson. “That piece of swamp on the south side? I thought the project abandoned.”

  The man would have to live with his head in the sand not to know more than that. The island was a tiny place. Everyone knew everything that went on, without need of a daily newspaper. The pro-rain forest, antidevelopment people had staged protests for months. The local government had fought over who would handle the water/sewer arrangements. Townspeople had demanded low-cost housing. Real estate people had demanded modern construction suitable for sale to rich tourists. Everyone had an opinion.

  “Emile, I am no longer twelve years old. You don’t own this property without income to maintain it. I made it a point to know the basis of that income. You may never have worked a day in your life, but you own large percentages of every major construction firm on this island. You damned well know what’s going on in your own backyard.”

  Emile shrugged the shoulders of his elegant silk coat and sipped from his martini before responding. “I invest my money where it receives the best return. My financial advisers handle that sort of thing. Should you have need of advice, I’d be happy to give you their names. They’re quite good. Beyond that, I know nothing more than there’s a mud hole where there used to be forest.”

  Why the hell had he thought he could talk to the man? Just because he could talk to Miami bankers, international acquisition managers, temperamental architects, and rough construction crews didn’t mean he could talk to Emile. But Charlie knew instinctively that no man pretended ignorance without reason.

  “You remember Raul Joseph, don’t you? We used to play soccer together in high school.”

  Emile wrinkled his smooth brow in thought. “One of those natives you insisted on befriending? I don’t know why you wouldn’t attend the private school I arranged for you. You would have made much more valuable acquaintances.”

  Hell, this was going nowhere. Here less than an hour and he was already regressing into the same arguments they’d had when he was thirteen. He knew better than to come here. Where the hell would he turn now? He’d counted on Jacques putting him in touch with the right people. He hadn’t counted on Jacques being married and protecting his family by disappearing.

  Shit. Charlie glared in frustration at his imperturbable stepfather. “This isn’t productive. I’m looking for an old friend. If I don’t find him, I’m likely to become extremely angry. I’m not a pimply teenage boy any longer. I have money, influence, and a means of wielding both. If you want to duke it out over power tables, so be it. It would be a damned sight easier if you’d just tell me what you know.”

  Looking thoughtful, Emile drifted toward the wet bar. “You still haven’t learned finesse, have you? I could have taught you that, but you insisted on breaking your mother’s heart by returning to your father and the trailer park you grew up in. There really isn’t much we have to say to each other after all these years, is there?”

  “For my mother’s sake, I’d hoped so. If you loved her at all, you would make some effort to cooperate, but you never loved her, did you? Why the hell did you marry her in the first place? She scarcely came from one of the ‘best’ families.”

  Tamara chose that moment to return to the room, with Penelope in tow. His lovely half sister lit the room with her golden smile. Slender, blithe, as sweet as she was beautiful, Tamara had always been the dove of peace in this nest of wolves. She had his mother’s startling blue eyes but her father’s silken blond hair.

  In that instant, Charlie answered his own question. In her greed and ambition for the good life, his mother had spent every penny his father had paid her in support and used her position as interior decorator to the wealthy to work her way into what passed for Miami society.

  She must have used the oldest trick in the book to nail Emile’s hide to the wall. He could remember Tamara being born within a year of his mother’s remarriage. Less than a year. As an eleven-year-old, he’d been more disgruntled by the nuisance of the infant than interested in counting months. He didn’t need to count them now. Emile had married his mother because she was pregnant. And he’d probably been furious that she hadn’t borne him a son. Tamara’s deformed leg must have quadrupled his fury.

  Charlie couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it earlier. Damn, but teenagers were blind, selfish idiots.

  Fighting other nasty thoughts, Charlie turned and took both beautiful women on his arms. “Ladies, a stroll on the terrace before dinner?”

  He’d never pry anything out of Emile. Maybe he should start looking for Emile’s lovers. On an island this small, they shouldn’t be difficult to find. The stories they could tell might be useful.

  TEN

  “Father looks angry,” Tammy whispered to Charlie as they stepped into the garden. “What did you say to him?”

  “How the h... How can you tell that?”

  Tammy smiled at her brother’s attempt at polite language. Charlie had always pretended to despise her in front of his friends when he was a kid, but he’d always stood up for her. He’d pounded one of his schoolmates into the ground the day he’d found the creep making fun of her leg. She’d always thought of her half brother as a hero. She needed a hero right now.

  “The muscle beside his eye twitches when he’s angry. I always leave when that happens. What did you say to him?” Tammy liked Penelope, but she wished the other woman would disappear so she could talk to Charlie alone.

  “We just don’t get along,” Charlie said dismissively. “Now tell me why you aren’t in school. I thought you always wanted to be a nurse.”

  A nurse—like her father would allow that. She’d outgrown childish daydreams years ago. “They think I’m too delicate,” she answered defensively. “That’s why you have to help me.”

  She was afraid she sounded desperate. If she’d learned nothing else about men, it was that they retreated quickly around anyone who sounded desperate. She tried s
miling reassuringly, but Charlie was staring at her as if she’d grown three heads.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Charlie. I’m twenty years old, old enough to be on my own. Do you want me to marry one of those insufferable jerks Father brings home for my inspection? Can you imagine how much money he must be offering to make them even consider someone like me?”

  “What a lovely waterfall!” Penelope exclaimed from Charlie’s other side. “I’ll just wander over and look at it while you and your sister catch up on old times.”

  Tammy knew she liked Penelope for a reason. She beamed approvingly at this suggestion.

  Charlie grabbed Penelope’s arm and held on tight. “No, you don’t. You’re damned well staying here and translating for me. I don’t talk womanspeak so well. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?”

  Tammy wanted to punch the lout. Why in the world had she thought the fatheaded jerk would understand? He never had. He’d just bullied people who made her cry, and in her silly hero worship, she’d thought that meant he understood her pain.

  “Tamara, let me apologize for your brother,” Penelope said stiffly, halting their progress around the terrace. “I’ve known him only a couple of days, so if there’s any hint of sensitivity in his nature, I haven’t had time to discover it. I don’t want to intrude on a family quarrel, but I’d be happy to help if you need someone to talk to.”

  Tammy fought the tears burning her eyes. She was a weakling. She’d always known that. She cried over TV commercials, for heaven’s sake. And now she was crying because Charlie hadn’t found a true love at last. Stupid of her to think he had. He’d certainly never had any example to follow.

  Or maybe she was crying in frustration. It didn’t matter. She could see through the patio doors that her mother had finally arrived. It was time for dinner. And then Charlie would run as fast as his feet could carry him.

  “Thank you, Penelope. I appreciate the offer. If you could persuade Charlie to linger longer than dinner, I might take you up on that. Otherwise, I’m sorry you won’t be my new sister-in-law. I didn’t know Charlie had really resorted to kidnapping these days.”

  Releasing her brother’s arm, Tammy walked toward the house, trying not to drag her leg too badly. She wasn’t too tired, so she thought she carried it off pretty well.

  Behind her, she could hear Charlie and Penelope arguing. She almost smiled. At least Charlie had found a woman who would stand up to him. She could remember the airheads he used to bring home. They’d practically licked his feet. The relationship would probably never last, but she’d like to admire it for the time being. Maybe she could learn a thing or two about standing up for herself.

  The conversation over dinner was inevitably stilted. Her mother tried desperately to persuade Charlie to stay, stooping as low as outright bribery. Charlie ignored her. He had his mind focused on Raul’s construction project in the village. Tammy didn’t understand his subtle digs at Emile, but they were getting under her father’s skin. Emile had a terrible temper, a cold one that simmered until he wreaked revenge on whoever had thwarted him. Charlie was playing with fire.

  She wasn’t entirely certain of Penelope’s part in this drama. She admired the way Charlie’s friend politely displayed the manners that reflected her upbringing, but Tammy sensed an undercurrent that she couldn’t tap. Penelope hid anger beneath her pleasant demeanor, but Tammy didn’t think it was a destructive anger.

  A boom in the distance rattled the dinnerware. Charlie started out of his seat, but Emile merely waved his fork in dismissal. “They’re repairing that rock slide on the highway. It’s nothing.”

  Tammy wondered why Charlie didn’t look as if he believed him. She appreciated Penelope’s attempts to make peace between Charlie and their mother. Eventually, even Charlie fell victim to her soft insistence on diverting the topic to more neutral grounds.

  “I’m not an engineer, but I think studies have been done proving the heat of the volcano could provide sufficient energy for this half of the island,” Charlie responded to Penelope’s questioning. “But you have to understand the island mentality. The water company alone employs more people than they can use. If they didn’t hire the people politicians pushed down their throats, management would lose their jobs. If you think politics are bad in Miami, you ought to hang around here for a while.”

  “It’s not just the politicians at fault,” Tammy reminded him. “There are power brokers behind them who pull the strings. But unlike the States, there is less money and less distance between the puppets and the puppeteers, so the results are more noticeable.” Tammy basked in Charlie’s startled but approving look. At least somebody noticed she was not only an adult, but one with brains.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Tamara,” Emile intruded. “You would do better to concentrate on where you and your mother would like to go shopping next week. Paris? New York? Or is that too cold?”

  Tammy thought Penelope’s jaw would drop to her chest at this response. Heartened by the possibility that the attitude in the States might actually be as enlightened as she hoped, she smiled at her father. “Miami, Papa, I would like to shop in Miami.”

  “Nonsense. Italy is warm this time of year. What do you think, dear? Rome for the spring fashions?”

  Emile addressed the inquiry to his wife, but Tammy saw the smoldering fury in the look he sent Charlie. She hadn’t intended to target Charlie with her request. She’d just been following the path she’d tentatively constructed to freedom. She threw Charlie a helpless look of apology, but he appeared oblivious to the nuances of the conversation.

  “You ought to let her visit me in Miami. They have some nice shops, and I can show her around. Or Mom could. She knows the place as well as I do, although it’s changed some since she was there.”

  Bless Charlie’s blind little heart. He was offering everything she wanted to hear, and everything her father wouldn’t allow. Tammy didn’t understand the whole of it, but she understood her father’s need to control. Her mother had given up trying to return to her old home years ago. Emile wouldn’t consider it.

  “I’d love to show you the newest places,” Penelope offered quietly. “And my sister would love to meet you. We’re twins, but she’s always been a homebody. One would think that sharing identical genes and environment, we would think alike, but nothing could be further from the truth.”

  Wow! That was a great diversion. It had even thrown Charlie for a loop. Tammy bit back her laughter as he looked at Penelope with astonishment. She’d love to throw these two together, but she still had her own plans in mind, dangerous ones.

  Raul had told her that Charlie was behind the development, but she hadn’t believed he’d ever return to the island. She’d been counting on Raul to help her out, but Charlie was better yet.

  “We’re taking the yacht into Castries for drinks with a few friends later this evening,” her mother announced as the last dessert plate was cleared. “We’d be delighted to have you accompany us. Have you seen much of Castries, Penelope?”

  “No, and I would love to some other time. I’m afraid I have a job here, however, and I really need to get back to work in the morning.”

  Tammy thought Penelope might skewer Charlie with the pointedness of her look, but Charlie deliberately ignored her. She would kick her brother under the table but she needed his help too much to antagonize him. Rising, she deflected the conversation to her own purposes.

  “I have some supplies I want to take down to the church. It would be lovely if you could take me, Charlie. I hate bothering Alphonso.”

  “Alphonso will take you,” Emile declared, also rising. “Charles has already made it clear he has business elsewhere.” He directed his next shot at Charlie. “I suggest you return to Miami, where you know what’s good for you and what’s not. You’re out of your league here.”

  He strode off without looking back.

  “We really must be going, Mom. Maybe I’ll have time to look in on you before
I leave again.” Charlie hugged his mother and kissed her cheek.

  Tammy hadn’t realized how much her mother had shrunk over the years. She’d always thought of Vivian St. Philippe as an elegant, statuesque beauty who drifted through society with ease. She could see now that she was merely a woman torn by her family and battered by circumstance, no matter how comfortable her surroundings.

  “If you’ll send Alphonso for their bags, Mother,” Tammy said lightly, hoping no one could hear her desperation, “I’ll walk Penelope and Charlie to their car. Have you seen their jeep? It’s just like a little toy. Maybe Papa could get one like it for me. I’d love to have my own car.”

  That would raise enough arguments to divert any suspicion. She could drive with her left foot. She didn’t need the right. But her parents wouldn’t hear of it. Hiding impatience, she smiled through her mother’s weak protest, caught Charlie’s arm, and tugged him toward the terrace.

  “All right, baby sister,” Charlie hissed as they reached the corner of the house, out of hearing of anyone but Penelope. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “I’m practically a prisoner,” she bleated, hating the sound of her own voice but unable to control it now that freedom could be minutes away. “They’re smothering me. They won’t let me go off to school, they won’t let me drive, they won’t let me go anywhere without them or one of the servants. How can I have my own life if my mother’s tied to me by an umbilical cord?”

  “And what do you want me to do about it?” Charlie asked. “Penny was only kidding about the kidnapping. I’m not any good at underhandedness.”

  Penelope snorted but didn’t speak.

  “Take me with you. Put me on a plane out of here. I don’t even have my own money. You’re my only chance. Raul promised to help, but he’s disappeared. I don’t know what else to do.”