by J. M. Madden
Sarah realized then how very familiar the action had been. Wifely.
Stepping back herself, she slanted him a beguiling smile. “Sorry.”
“No harm done.”
He offered her his arm, and down the hallway they went. Secretly though, Sarah was impressed he had put himself forward to be touched again. She was also very impressed with the shape of the biceps she could feel under the suit jacket. Obviously, Mr. Gallagher did not spend all of his time at the office.
As they wound their way through the corridors and down the long curving staircase, Sarah tried to prepare herself to meet Mrs. Gallagher again. Secretly, she hoped his niece was not as spoiled as her grandmother. Sarah felt bad about the mean thought and decided to give Victoria the benefit of the doubt. Or enough rope to hang herself.
Several crystal chandeliers lit the huge dining room softly and there was a young girl sitting on the near side in one of the many ornately worked chairs. She turned as they entered the room and Sarah found herself looking at a beautiful young girl who would mature into an even more stunning woman. Sleekly styled honey blond hair was her most striking feature, simply because there was so much of it. It was pulled back in a long, elegant ponytail that reached almost to her waist. Sarah had expected another brunette, like Mr. Gallagher, and was pleasantly surprised at the difference. The girl also had wonderful, twinkling, bright amber colored eyes, which Sarah already imagined herself painting. At the moment, however, they were hidden behind a rather sophisticated pair of squarish black framed eyeglasses.
The girl smiled widely, then rather self-consciously closed her mouth to cover a set of transparent braces, but still continued to smile at Mr. Gallagher. Sarah could tell the girl adored her uncle.
On the opposite side of the table, a contemptuous woman glared at the girl.
“Straighten up, Victoria. It’s not as if you’ve never seen your uncle before.”
Sarah frowned at the woman; another beautiful, hateful woman. Sarah had always been secure in her femininity, but the Gallagher women made her feel dowdy, and a very down home, country mouse in this big, fancy house. She looked at the woman’s perfectly made up face, upswept blond hair and long diamond earrings, and her excellently maintained body in a shimmering blue silk sheath. The woman could be a model, she was so perfect. The only thing that spoiled the effect was that her lip curled as she talked to her daughter and the frown line between her carefully shaped, penciled brows.
Mrs. Gallagher presided at one end of the huge mahogany table. Her hard brown eyes were glacial as she met Sarah’s smile. “I see you are still here. When you go into the kitchen for your dinner, let Faust know we are ready.”
Mr. Gallagher steered Sarah to a chair at the opposite end of the table. After seating her solicitously, he settled himself into the chair beside her, at the head of the table.
“Ms. Tyler is eating here, Mother. I have already informed Faust.” His deep baritone would normally signal there was to be no argument, but Sarah had already seen Mrs. Gallagher’s disregard for her son’s wishes. And she was not disappointed.
“Servants eat in the kitchen, Clayton.” Mrs. Gallagher folded her hands primly, angrily in her lap. Sarah could see the fury in the tightening of her mouth.
“Sarah is an invited guest, Mother. And she is not a servant.” His pale gray eyes met hers briefly. “She is an artist here doing me a personal favor.”
Mrs. Gallagher’s mouth twisted cynically.
“Ah, I see. She’s that kind of guest. You’ve never brought your women home before, Clayton.”
Sarah’s eyes widened as the meaning sunk in, and her mouth dropped open in disbelief. Speechless, she turned to Clayton and saw his expression was thunderous. The normal, icy cool reserve was nowhere to be seen. “You have just overstepped your bounds, Mother. I suggest you apologize to Ms. Tyler quickly and sincerely.”
Mrs. Gallagher tossed her linen napkin on the table and stood.
“I will do no such thing. Andrea.” Calling her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Gallagher left the table. Andrea followed quickly behind, without a backward glance at her daughter or anyone else in the room, for that matter.
Victoria sat quiet and big-eyed in the chair, with her hands folded in her lap.
“Wow,” she whispered as she stared at her uncle, awestruck.
Mr. Gallagher sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair. Sarah looked at him guiltily. “I’m sorry your mother doesn’t like me here. I’ll pack up my stuff and leave. I don’t want to cause problems between you.”
He held up a long fingered hand in a halting motion, shaking his head at the same time.
“Mother and I always have problems. After a some time spent being upset, I’ll have to finance a recuperative shopping trip for her, or a party for some worthy cause, and she will be fine.”
Faust came out of the kitchen then and began serving the dinner. Mr. Gallagher informed her that his mother and sister-in-law would be eating in their rooms. The rest of the meal was very enjoyable. Victoria moved her place setting down the table to sit opposite Sarah, and they had a very good time. Sarah found the girl sweet and articulate, and very unlike her mother and grandmother, personality wise. Mr. Gallagher obviously enjoyed the girl, but seemed unsure what to talk to her about. Sarah had no such qualms and found herself comparing the girl to her niece Amy back in Ohio.
Sarah was surprised at how quickly they finished dinner. The time had flown, and she did not want the evening to end. There was a new soft and gentle side to Mr. Gallagher she had not seen before. He adored his brother’s daughter and Victoria flourished under the attention. It was excruciatingly obvious her mother had very little active participation in the girl’s life, and most of the day-to-day care taking was left to Faust. Sarah had a feeling that the niece and uncle were each other’s favorite family member. It was curious though, that although they talked quietly and gently, they didn’t really tease each other, there was nothing playful about the conversation. Mr. Gallagher seemed as if he did not quite know what to do with Victoria. Sarah realized that both had never had the attention they yearned for, and now they were unsure how to reach out to each other. She wondered how young Mr. Gallagher had been when he’d been sent off to boarding school. She knew he had been, because he had talked about a few of his experiences there. Waiting for a break in the conversation, she asked him.
“How old were you when you went to boarding school?”
Mr. Gallagher regarded her for several long moments. “I was enrolled in boarding school in England when I was eight.”
Sarah could not believe her ears. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open inelegantly but she couldn’t help herself. He had been just a baby! What had he thought when he had been shipped off at eight years old? Her nephews didn’t even walk to school alone at eight! Against her will, her eyes filled with tears. Quickly, she tried to blot them away with her napkin, but she could tell both of the Gallaghers had seen.
“I’m sorry,” she told them, gasping. “I just can’t imagine being away from my family like that. Moving to New York a couple years ago was hard enough, and I’m a grown woman. I can’t imagine doing that as a child, or a young woman.”
Sarah was surprised to see that Victoria’s eyes had also teared up, but she did not say anything. Mr. Gallagher had a shuttered look on his face, and avoided her eyes. Sarah understood he probably did not want her to feel sorry for him, because he had a bad childhood. Reaching her right hand out, she clasped his left tightly.
“I think you have done wonderfully with your life, and I’m sure Victoria will do just as well.”
Victoria beamed and Mr. Gallagher gave her a small, polite smile. Soon after, Victoria retired to bed, agreeing to meet Sarah in the solarium early the next morning. Faust brought after-dinner coffee to the sitting room, and she and Mr. Gallagher settled into the seats they had occupied just a couple of days ago. Mr. Gallagher did not seem eager to talk, so Sarah told him how she planned to paint Victoria’s p
ortrait. He wanted a size significantly smaller than what she’d expected, but she was more than happy to do it however he wanted it done. Sarah found during a quiet moment of thought that there was probably not much she would not do for this reserved, obviously wounded, man.
Sitting this close to him, her palms itched to touch him. And rumple him. Clayton Gallagher was a hunk. Albeit a very reserved, quiet, kind of straight-laced hunk. Looking around the cold, formal sitting room, she understood completely why he had turned out the way he did. Who would dare muss this mausoleum up? Certainly his mother helped with the shaping of his personality, and Sarah felt a guilty pang at the problems her presence was causing.
Mr. Gallagher was regarding her quietly over his coffee cup. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry my being here is causing you problems. With your mother, I mean.” She smoothed the skirt of her dress nervously.
His heavy brows furrowed. “If it wasn’t you, it would be something else. I’m always doing, or not doing, something to aggravate her.”
Sarah eyed him doubtfully. “Well, perhaps I should take my meals in the kitchen just to keep things quiet.”
He put his fragile cup down on the end table with a clank. “Absolutely not.”
Sarah held up a hand to forestall him. “I think I would be more comfortable. I know your family would.”
His handsome face darkened even more. “I disagree. You would definitely make Victoria more at ease. I can tell she already likes you.”
Sarah allowed herself a moment to enjoy his observation but she frowned. “But if I’m not there to cause arguments, she won’t be subjected to them.”
Again he shook his dark head, refusing to see her side. “I believe arguing about you at the table is minor compared to some of the things she’s already overheard. My mother is never shy about expressing her opinion, vociferously. My brother was the same way when he was alive.”
Sarah nodded her head in agreement. “Exactly. She doesn’t need to hear any more than she already does … or has.”
Mr. Gallagher eyed her thoughtfully. “I understand your rationale; and I appreciate your concern for my niece, although I think it is excessive. Perhaps you will concede to occasional dinners with the family?”
Sarah was very happy he understood her reasoning, and smiled, appreciating the compromise. “That would be fine, Mr. Gallagher.”
Looking away, he reached for his coffee, and told her gruffly, “You can call me Clayton.”
Smiling happily, she corrected herself. “Thank you. Clayton.”
Finishing her coffee quickly, Sarah made her excuses and got out while she was ahead. She never imagined Mr. Galla…uh, Clayton, would concede to her on anything. Everybody at Clarion said he was a very difficult man to sway once he had his mind set on something, and Sarah had seen that herself when she had submitted several options for the artwork in his office area. His executive assistant had called her the next day and told her which portfolio Mr. Gallagher had wanted, and that had been that. No calling a week after the painting had been placed to say that the colors didn’t match their furniture, or that he didn’t like the expression on one of the subject’s faces. Those had both been actual calls she had received from heads of other department and she’d had to alter the artwork accordingly.
Although, now that she thought about it, why would he care what was hanging in his offices? As long as it didn’t chase away potential clients, he probably couldn’t care less what she did. And that pricked at Sarah’s ego as nothing ever had, she could admit to herself now. The fact that she probably could have hung paint-by-numbers and he wouldn’t have cared. Heck, Meredith was probably the one that had picked out the scheme anyway.
She put that out of her head as soon as she thought it. If he didn’t like her pieces she wouldn’t be here now.
Sarah gave a sigh and flopped onto the huge bed. She could admit to herself that she was just frustrated that he hadn’t ever sought her out before now for any reason, work or personal. It smarted incredibly that for over a year she had been so….into him, and that whole time, he obviously was not.
Sitting up, she began unbuttoning her dress and let down her hair, literally and figuratively. Kicking her shoes to a corner, she headed to the beautifully appointed marble bathroom to soak away her worries in the huge Jacuzzi tub. It was too early for bed, but perhaps she could make herself a little tired. Grabbing a romance out of her bag, she slipped into the steaming waters with a sigh.
A few minutes later, she threw the book on the bathroom floor in disgust. The nauseatingly “feminine” heroine was simply too girly to keep her interest. Climbing out of the tub, Sarah toweled down and walked into the bedroom, retrieving her plain cotton nightgown from the closet. Her sketchpad was on the chair next to the door, so she grabbed it as she walked past and flopped down on the bed. For several long minutes, Sarah tried to sketch layout ideas. But they just were not coming forth. She had a vague idea about setting the portrait around the fountain downstairs in the solarium, but she wasn’t sure about the dimensions.
Sarah looked at the alarm clock on the end table. Eleven forty-five. Just a few more hours and she could start with Victoria. Placing her sketchbook firmly on the nightstand, Sarah crawled into bed and turned off the light. She was not going traipsing around in an unknown house in her nightgown just to get a layout. At least, not on the first night.
She tried to imagine Mr. Gall… Clayton, in the next suite. It was kind of surprising that as big as this house appeared to be, she was right next door to him. Not that she was complaining, not at all. The house was too well-built to hear anything in the adjoining suite, not even a TV. Was he having as much problem as she falling asleep, or was he one of those kinds that dropped off like a switch being thrown? Did he read to relax? Smiling in the dark, she wondered if he was a boxers or briefs kind of guy. Oooh, or maybe nothing? Nah, he was way too straitlaced to go commando. She would bet her commission on it.
Clayton. Sarah was glad he had finally told her to call him by his given name. It was getting a bit awkward doing the ‘Mr.’ bit all the time.
Maybe, in time, he would unbend enough to be friendly with her. He was still scowling a lot of the time when she was around. It’s early days yet, she told herself bracingly. There will be time to get to know him. She would win him over.
With that final, determined thought, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Five
‡
Of course, there was no sleeping in, even in the most comfortable bed Sarah had ever slept in. Six o’clock and she was up. Old habits were hard to break; work on the farm always started early when she’d been growing up, and moving to the city had not changed her routine. Slipping on a pair of worn jeans and a ‘decent enough’ polo shirt, she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail and brushed her teeth. Was it too early to go down to the kitchen? Peeking out the door, the house appeared to be silent as a tomb, but she slipped into the hall anyway. Maybe she could just go down and find a tea bag with her name on it.
Wandering through the corridors, Sarah eventually found the main staircase and skipped lightly down the steps. The summer sun was climbing and she was anxious to get started, but she had told Victoria she didn’t need to come down until seven thirty-ish. Peering out the sidelights of the massive front door, she saw it was going to be a beautiful day, and her fingers itched to get started. Food first, she told herself firmly, because she had a tendency to forget to eat when she was working, sometimes going all day and into the night before the hunger pangs became so bad she had to stop and refuel. There was always a burst of enthusiasm at the beginning of a project that overshadowed everything else.
Turning from the door, she made her way back through the huge house in search of the kitchen. It had been easy to follow Clayton yesterday, but now she had to find it for herself. She wandered through the rooms until she found herself in the dining room. Well, I know I’m getting closer. She couldn’t imagine living in a house th
is big. The apartment she had in the city was just about the size of the dining room. It had been all she could afford when she first moved to the city, and now that she had more money, she just didn’t want to concern herself with a move in the city. Besides, the landlord let her keep Gracie, as long as she didn’t tear anything up and bother the other neighbors. Mr. Freidman was a sweetheart of a landlord, and had a fondness for Sarah because he was a country boy at heart himself.
Sarah slipped back into the Italian tiled hallway and turned left. She eventually came to a swinging oak door and pushed through quietly.
Faust sat at a breakfast table in a small alcove just off the kitchen. She jumped up in surprise when she saw Sarah and quickly made her way forward. Faust was already dressed for the day and her steel gray hair was in a tight, torturous looking bun.
“Ms. Tyler. Breakfast will be in the chafing dishes on the buffet at seven a.m. Can I get you something now? I didn’t expect you to be up this early.”
Sarah held up a hand and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I’m an early riser. May I join you for a cup of tea?”
The cook look flustered, then a bit ill at ease, but she slowly nodded her head. “Of course. I have a pot at the table. I’ll just get you a cup.”
Sarah smiled as the woman retrieved a cup from one of the overhead cabinets and placed several fresh croissants on a plate in the center of the table. Sarah could not help but reach for one as Faust settled herself at the opposite side of the table.
“Oh, my. These look scrumptious,” she told the anxious housekeeper. “I was going to wait for breakfast, really I was.”
Sarah poured herself a cup of tea and added her boost of sugar, then bit into the croissant. The flaky pastry melted in her mouth, and she groaned in pleasure. “Where did you get these? I may have to put in a permanent order.”
Faust gave a small smile and admitted that she had made them herself this morning. Sarah stared at her incredulously.