by Janet Dailey
“Yes. That’s unfortunately the only way it will get done.” His smile was pleasant, yet Shari detected an air of reserve about him. “Enjoy yourself.”
“We will.” Quick, gliding strides carried her to the door.
Her smile was artificially bright to hide her inner uncertainty. As she left the study, Rory, Beth and Doré were coming down the stairs, dressed for sailing. She started up the steps, meeting them at a point short of halfway.
“What was going on down here?” Doré demanded, sweeping Shari with an accusing look. “You certainly were making enough noise in there with Whit. We could hear you laughing all the way upstairs.”
While Shari hesitated over an answer, Rory supplied the explanation. “That’s not unusual. Those two have always carried on like that.”
Shari didn’t elaborate on the response. “It shouldn’t take me more than a couple of minutes to change, then I’ll be right down.” Beth moved to the side so Shari could pass and continue up the stairs to her room.
In all, it took Shari a little less than ten minutes to change out of her dress into a pair of navy blue twill slacks, a pale blue turtleneck and white sneakers. On top of the outfit, she added a dark blue wind-breaker and tied a scarf of blue-green silk around her black hair.
She half-ran down the stairs to join the sailing party waiting for her. It wasn’t until she was nearly to the bottom that Shari noticed they didn’t seem to be in any hurry—at least Doré wasn’t.
Whit was in the living room with them, acting the polite host by keeping them company in her absence. Doré had sidled close to him to subtly and aggressively flirt with him, and Whit didn’t seem to object.
A hot knife of jealousy stabbed Shari. She walked forward, determined to break up the scene. “Why is everybody standing around?” she challenged, deliberately ignoring the fact that they had been waiting for her. “Let’s go.”
Rory and Beth were quite willing to be hurried along but Doré lingered next to Whit. “Change your mind and come with us, Whit,” she coaxed with a sexy smile. “You’ll miss out on a lot of fun.”
The lazily indulgent way he was regarding her blonde sorority sister made Shari feel raw. When he didn’t immediately turn down the invitation, she stepped in to do it for him.
“Whit can’t come. He has work to do,” she stated in a very emphatic voice.
There was a glint of mocking humor in his eyes when he swung his glance to her, amused that she had found it necessary to remind him of it. She was immediately irritated with herself for speaking out.
Whit turned back to Doré. “I’m afraid Shari is right. I have a lot of paper work I need to finish.”
“Well, if I can’t persuade you—” Doré sighed her disappointment and didn’t bother to finish the sentence, lifting her shoulders in a little shrug to indicate her reluctant acceptance of his decision.
Then Whit was directing his glance at Shari and Rory, once again assuming the role of older brother. “Be careful.”
“We will,” Rory promised and turned to the others. “Shall we go?”
There was a general exodus toward the door.
Chapter Four
It was a perfect night for sailing. The moon was fat and full, gilding the waters of Loch Dornie with its silvery light. A stiff breeze filled the canvas to send the sailboat gliding silently through the water while the shadowed darkness of Grandfather Mountain watched over them.
But Shari wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it. There were too many disquieting thoughts going around in her head. They left little room to consider the serenity of the moonlight sail. After an hour’s ride, Rory maneuvered the boat into its slip to tie it up Shari was glad it was over so she no longer had to maintain the pretense that she was having a good time.
On the way back to the condominium, Doré, Beth and Rory talked so much that her silence went unnoticed. It was much too early to consider sleep, plus the night sail had invigorated all of them, including Shari, although the others were more boisterous.
“Let’s fix some hot toddies,” Doré suggested as they entered the condo.
“Sorry,” Rory tipped his head to the side in a gesture of regret. “Granddad never leaves any liquor here. He brings his private stock with him whenever we come.”
“Hot chocolate is about the best we can do.” Shari backed up his assertion. “I saw some cocoa in the cupboard.”
“Didn’t I see some peppermint canes in a candy jar?” Beth frowned as she tried to recall. “We can use them as swizzle sticks. They add a delicious minty flavor to hot cocoa.”
“It sounds a little more exotic than plain cocoa,” Doré commented and indicated how tame she considered the innocuous drink to be.
“Shall we fix some?” Beth directed her question to Shari.
But it was Doré who responded. “Yes, why don’t you,” she urged the two of them. “And I’ll see if Whit would like a cup.”
Shari was closer to the closed door of the study than Doré. She took advantage of the fact. “I’ll ask him.” She moved quickly toward the study, that possessive streak rearing its head again. “Rory can show you where everything is in the kitchen.”
Unable to reach the door ahead of Shari, Doré was forced to accept the situation or get into a demeaning battle over Whit. It was not her nature to openly do battle over a man so the disgruntled blonde followed Beth and Rory to the kitchen.
Shari lightly rapped twice on the door but there was no response. She hesitated, then turned the knob, opening the door a crack to peer inside. A lamp burned at the desk where Whit was hunched over some papers. The artificial light caught the sheen of sun-streaks in his dark hair.
Preoccupied with his work, he obviously hadn’t heard her knock. Shari slipped inside the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. The combination of a carpeted floor and the rubber soles of her sneakers negated any sound of her footsteps as she crossed the room to stand behind him.
With the ease of long familiarity, she rested her hands on the corded shoulder muscles at the base of his neck, feeling their knotted tension. Whit stiffened at her initial touch, then it eased away when she began to gently knead the taut muscles. He leaned against the chair back, laying down his pen.
His right hand reached up to cover hers and press it firmly with affection before his fingers glided up to circle her wrist and draw her around to the side of his chair where he could see her. The suggestion of tiredness seemed to leave his features when a small curve lifted the corners of his mouth in a faint smile.
“I see you made it back from your moonlight sail.” The pressure of his grip pulled her down to sit on the wooden armrest of the chair. “Nobody fell overboard? Nobody was hurt?”
Shari smiled at his teasing questions. “We had a marvelous time, completely without mishap,” she assured him.
“That must be a record.” Dryness rustled his voice.
His hand continued to hold her forearm at the wrist. Its light touch was making her pulse act up and Shari wondered if he could feel its erratic beat. She wasn’t comfortable with this new sensual awareness of his male attraction.
“We’re fixing some hot chocolate and wondered if you would like to take a break and have a cup with us,” she explained her reason for coming to see him.
“You’re actually inviting me to join you?” Despite his mocking tone, the slight drawl in his voice was infinitely pleasing to her ear. “Earlier I had the impression you wanted to keep my nose to the grindstone.”
It was a direct reference to her insistence that he couldn’t come sailing with them because he had work to do. Shari was well aware of her reasons for saying that then, but she had no intention of telling him what they were. She changed the subject instead.
“I don’t know how you find time to do all that you do,” she said because she was only beginning to realize the vital role he played in all their lives. “Our family would fall apart if it wasn’t for you. You hold all of us together. Mother would worry herself sick if you weren’t the
re to reassure her. You keep Granddad pacified. You’re so patient with Rory. And any time I’ve ever needed you, you’ve been there. On top of that, you run the farm and take care of all the business. Why do you do it, Whit?” Shari wouldn’t have blamed him if he had told them all to take a running jump into some lake.
“Because you matter to me,” he answered without hesitation, regarding her steadily. A quiver of disturbance ran through her at his statement. Shari caught the flash of impatience in his gaze before it swung away from her and he let go of her arm. “Family is important, Shari.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed, but she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that she hadn’t understood what he meant. She slipped off the armrest to stand beside the chair. “Will you have a cup of hot chocolate with us?” Shari repeated her earlier question.
Whit sliced her a look that was hard. “When have I ever told you ‘no’? You’ve always had your own way.” She was puzzled by his attitude and his challenge. In the next second, he made a complete reversal, a smile wiping out the austere lines to charm her. “Let’s go have that hot chocolate.”
As they left the study to join the others in the kitchen, Shari was plagued by a bewildering array of questions. Were his remarks double-edged or was she imagining it? Had he always looked at her like that or was she reading something into his looks that didn’t exist? Had his attitude toward her changed or was she just now noticing it? And was it natural to feel so possessive toward him in the face of Doré’s pursuit?
It was the latter Shari had to struggle to subdue when they entered the kitchen and Doré went to work on him. Whit was friendly and polite to her, neither encouraging nor discouraging her interest. Shari was barely able to taste the peppermint flavored hot chocolate, too conscious of the way her beautiful sorority sister was monopolizing Whit.
Within minutes after he’d finished his cocoa, Whit made his apologies and returned to the study to finish his paper work. The minute the four of them were alone, Doré turned on her.
“What is the matter with you, Shari?” she demanded.
“With me?” She looked at her friend in surprise. “There’s nothing wrong with me. What makes you think there is?”
“I wish you could see the way you’ve been acting and you wouldn’t ask the question,” Doré retorted in a huff.
“The way I’ve been acting?” Shari flared at the implication that her behavior had been questionable. “You’re the one who’s been drooling all over Whit, making an absolute fool of yourself.”
“I didn’t notice that he objected,” she countered with an airy toss of her head.
“Whit has been raised to have better manners than that,” Shari informed her snappishly.
“Obviously you weren’t,” Doré accused. “You’ve been throwing daggers at me since you came into the kitchen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shari scoffed in an attempted denial of the charge.
“I’m not,” she insisted. “If you have a prior claim on Whit, I wish you’d say so instead of pretending you only regard him as your older brother. “
“That’s what he is.” Her assertion came quickly, perhaps too quickly. She was pricked by a feeling of unease with her answer and sought to defend her behavior. “I don’t want Whit getting the wrong impression about my friends. That’s all.”
“I can tell he thinks a lot of you,” Beth assured her, seeking to mend the rift between Shari and Doré. “I wouldn’t worry about him thinking badly of you because of the actions of a friend.”
“I suppose you’re against me, too,” Doré accused Beth.
“It’s your nature to be forward.” Beth was the stabilizing influence on the volatile personalities of her two friends. “I don’t condemn you for it, and I’m positive Shari doesn’t either. It’s only natural for a person to want their family to like their choice of friends.”
“I don’t know what you’re squabbling among yourselves about,” Rory inserted. “Whit is going to make up his own mind regardless of what anybody else thinks about someone. He always does.” The topic no longer interested him. “Is there any more hot chocolate left?”
“About half a cup, I think,” Beth replied.
“I might as well drink it,” he decided. “There’s no sense pouring it down the drain.”
Although the disagreement was shelved, they weren’t able to regain the sociable mood. When the cups and pan were washed, they gravitated toward the upstairs bedrooms. A light shone through the crack at the base of the study door as the four climbed the stairs.
Sleep eluded Shari for a long time after she crawled into bed. She tossed and turned, trying to sort through the confusion of her changing attitude toward Whit. It was late when she finally dozed off.
The strident ring of the doorbell interrupted her sleep, its penetrating summons prodding her into a semiwakefulness. She dragged herself out of bed and grabbed for the robe lying at the foot, pulling it around her as she hurried to the stairs.
At the same instant that she flipped on the switch to light the stairs, a light went on in the living room. The sudden brightness hurt her eyes and Shari had to pause and turn her head away, partially closing her eyes until they could adjust to the influx of light.
The doorbell rang loudly again and she descended one more step to answer it when she saw Whit crossing the living room from the study. He was clad only in the slacks he’d been wearing earlier that night; the upper half of his body was naked.
She couldn’t help noticing how well-muscled he was, compact and firm, covered by tanned flesh. In her present state, just awakening from sleep, Shari had no immunity from such a blatant example of his maleness.
Some small sound must have betrayed her presence, because he glanced over his shoulder and saw her poised on the staircase. His recognition prompted her into action, overriding the desire to stare at him.
“What time is it?” Her voice still held some of sleep’s thickness as she continued down the steps.
“A little before three,” he answered with similar huskiness. “Go back to your room. I’ll see who’s at the door.”
Shari didn’t listen to his suggestion. “But who could it be at this hour?”
“It’s probably someone in the wrong building.” Whit walked to the door.
The security chain was in place as he unlocked the dead bolt to open the door part way. Shari hovered in the middle of the living room. She had no intention of going to her room until she found out who it was. Whit’s tall frame blocked the small opening, preventing her from seeing the person or persons standing outside.
“May I help you?” Something in the sharpness of Whit’s tone alerted Shari that his initial guess had been wrong.
“Are you Whit Lancaster?” A clipped, male voice inquired.
“Yes, I am,” he admitted.
“We’re State Patrol officers. May we speak to you a minute?” came the request.
There was a slight pause and Shari guessed that they were showing Whit their identification. Little fingers of alarm were shooting through her as she tried to guess the portent of their presence. When Whit opened the door and the two uniformed officers stepped inside, she moved forward, searching their expressions.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s happened?”
“We’ve been asked to notify you of a family emergency,” the first officer explained to Whit and glanced uncertainly at Shari. “The young lady—”
“—is my stepsister, Shari Sutherland,” Whit identified her as she came to stand beside him.
“A family emergency?” She repeated the phrase in a frozen voice. “Is it Granddad?”
“Your brother is here as well?” the second officer asked Whit.
“Yes,” Whit nodded. “What is the nature of the emergency?”
“It’s a medical emergency. Mr. Frederick Lancaster asked us to contact you since he couldn’t reach you by phone,” the first officer explained.
“But it’s working,” Shari insisted.
“We used it earlier tonight to call home.”
“I’m sorry, Miss, but the telephone company informed us that an automobile accident has temporarily put this area out of service. They expect the lines to be repaired by morning.” The first officer, and the older of the two, didn’t dispute her claim, and turned back to Whit. “Mr. Lancaster asked you to come home as quickly as you could.”
“But—what’s happened?” Shari asked with a growing sense of panic. She clutched at Whit’s arm, needing the steadiness of his strength to support her. “Who—”
“I don’t wish to be the one to bring bad news.” Despite the phrases indicating apology, there was a certain bluntness to his speech. “Your mother has suffered a stroke and has been rushed to the hospital. Her condition is serious.”
Her knees buckled in shock as she reeled from the announcement that hit her like a physical blow. Whit quickly gathered her shaky body into his arms, holding her close. Her head moved from side to side in numbed disbelief.
“No,” she murmured. “It can’t be.”
“Would you get word to my grandfather that we’ll be leaving directly?” Whit asked the patrolmen over the top of her bent head.
“Of course.”
She was too stunned by the news to hear the men leave and the door close. Her blood was running cold. Not even the heat generated by Whit’s body could warm her, although his strong arms held her so close she was practically enveloped in them. There were tears in her eyes when Shari lifted her head to look at him.
“It can’t be true.” She didn’t want to believe it, but his grim expression convinced her. “Not Mother.”
“Yes. At her last checkup, the doctor discovered she had high blood pressure. She’s been on medication to control it for several months now,” Whit explained.