by Diana Palmer
She turned on her heel and walked off, pressing numbers into her cell phone.
Gracie came out into the hall with her suitcase, and she and Mrs. Harcourt exchanged miserable glances. “Maybe if I asked, she’d let you stay, at least until Jason gets back,” she said hopefully.
The older woman was terrified. She’d known no other home for thirty-five years. But she didn’t dare stay. “No,” she replied, without explaining. “I’m going to Jacobsville with you. Barbara always needs a good cook. I’ll apply there. We’ll take Dilly and John, too. We’ll find something for them, as well. And you,” she added firmly, “are going to show Jason that you’re more competent than he gives you credit for. It won’t hurt that young man to have his beliefs challenged. Especially now that he’s destroyed his life by linking up with that redheaded shark downstairs.”
Gracie actually smiled. She’d never heard the easygoing housekeeper talk like that about Jason. She’d always been his champion, never accepting any criticism of him from anyone. Perhaps they’d both grow into better people with the challenges ahead. She didn’t let herself think about what life without Jason was going to be like. She didn’t dare.
“Don’t you worry about your past, Miss Gracie,” Mrs. Harcourt said gently. “She won’t tell him. He’d throw her out.”
Gracie grimaced. “Do you think so? I don’t. Come on. Let’s talk to the others.”
They talked to Dilly, but John had already packed his things and gone. He hadn’t told Dilly where he meant to go. He’d looked frightened, too, she said. Gracie hoped they could find him later, but for the moment, she had to get the other two women out of the house. Herself, as well. If she stayed around Kittie any longer, she was going to punch her!
GRACIE WENT TO WORK as a special lecturer for the Jacobs County school system. Her first day was scary, but when she got up in front of the fifth-graders and began to tell them little-known facts about the battle of the Alamo, everybody sat up straight and paid attention. She brought the history of the battle alive, passing out Xerox copies of paintings and documents that emphasized the details she was providing. She got a standing ovation when she finished.
Her self-confidence grew after that. Despite a few disruptive students from time to time, she became known among the students and teachers alike. Before long, she was invited to give her lectures at the ninth-grade academy and the high school. She found her feet as a teacher. She was looking forward to the spring semester in January, when she could begin teaching adult history classes in the evenings at the local college.
She also looked for a car. Turkey Sanders was a charlatan, but he felt sorry for her and said he had just the thing for her—a little old vehicle that was about ten years older than the one she’d had that Kittie was now driving. It was good on gas at least. But the price was beyond her meager reserves.
“I’ll have to come back next week, after I get paid,” she told him sadly. “If it’s still here then, I may try to work out a deal with you.”
“You could get your stepbrother to just give it to you,” he suggested.
Her expression closed up. “I don’t have a stepbrother anymore. I have no family at all. There’s just me.”
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Bad idea. You come back in a week, Miss Marsh,” he added quietly. “I think that car will still be here.”
She managed a wan smile. “Thanks, Mr. Sanders.”
“You can call me Turkey,” he chuckled. “Everybody does.”
She wondered why, but she really didn’t want to ask.
THE NEXT WEEK, she pawned her mother’s few jewels at the local pawn shop. The owner was horrified and didn’t want to take them, but she replied proudly that she had no money and had to have enough to get a car so she could get to and from her job. He stopped arguing. He also gave her the best price he could manage and promised her that he wouldn’t sell her treasures for any price.
Gracie had only one real close call, when she started to buy a coat that caught her eye and suddenly realized that she couldn’t even afford it on layaway. She dashed out of the shop red-faced. She’d have to get a credit card in her own name, she decided, one that wasn’t backed by Jason’s wallet. But first, she had to have the evening teaching position. She wasn’t going to go into debt.
She and Barbara got along well together. They were company for each other, especially on weekends, because Rick was working a difficult murder case in San Antonio and was hardly ever home lately. Mumbles settled in and became as much Barbara’s cat as Gracie’s.
When she had her first paycheck, which she received with enormous pride, she took the money she’d gotten from her mother’s jewels and part of her small check and went to see Turkey Sanders. She bought the little VW. Turkey even threw in a couple of mats for the floorboard. She felt independent for the first time in her life. Then Kittie phoned and said she had to return Jason’s car pronto.
She phoned the San Antonio mansion and told the man who answered the phone that she was coming up that evening to return the Thunderbird if someone could drive her back to Jacobsville. The man sounded amused and indignant. They weren’t a limousine service, he said haughtily. Fine, Gracie muttered, she’d get a cab! She hung up, furious. She wondered where poor old John had gone. She hadn’t been able to track him down. Mrs. Harcourt was cooking for Barbara, and Dilly was waiting tables. They were staying in Mrs. Brown’s boardinghouse. But John hadn’t contacted any of them.
Gracie phoned Barbara and said she was going to San Antonio to return Jason’s car and would get a cab home, but Barbara refused to let her. She’d drive up and get her at the mansion. It would be a few minutes, she said, because she had to finish closing up the café for the night. Gracie agreed. She’d go on ahead, she said. Barbara could pick her up on the front steps of the mansion, because she wasn’t going inside with Kittie!
She got into the classic Thunderbird, started the engine and headed for San Antonio. She’d barely reached the city limits sign outside Jacobsville when two cars ran up alongside her. One pulled in front of her, blocking her, the other screeched to a halt just behind her. Three men, all masked, jerked her out of the car, pulled a black mask over her head and threw her into the back seat of an automobile. Seconds later, her hands were tied and she was given a quick injection. She lost consciousness before the car was out of Jacobs County.
6
JASON SPENT WEEKS on the road, trying to troubleshoot problems in the corporation that resulted from the country’s economic crisis. It was the same all over the world, one market’s decline fed into another’s. It took guts, gambling, and some speculation to manage a financial empire in times like these. He hated the necessity of so much travel, especially with his personal life in the same sort of shambles the economy seemed to be in. He’d come home briefly just before Halloween to sort out problems on the ranch in Comanche Wells.
He hadn’t gone to San Antonio to see Gracie, wary of more unrest in the domestic situation there. He knew she didn’t like Kittie. Hell, he didn’t like Kittie very much, either, but he was sick at heart over Gracie’s rejection and trying desperately to find some way to cope with it. Kittie had seemed like a good idea in the beginning, but she’d done nothing except make a bad situation worse. He’d been glad when modeling jobs took her to Europe. He had, to his credit, phoned Gracie while he was in the country, but he never seemed to reach her. He’d given up, in the end, without trying to see her and gone back overseas to deal with his global interests.
It was November when, weary and out of sorts from all the traveling and business meetings, he was finally able to come home to Texas. It had been hard work, trying to convince stubborn corporate boards that his acquisitions would ultimately benefit them, even if corporate stock prices were more depressed just at first. Jason’s acquisitions, notably the new software company in California, were risky investments in these tough economic times. He had to be aggressive in his explanations, he had to make promises that he only hoped he could keep. The s
oftware the two computer geniuses had created would revolutionize the video game industry, which was one of the fastest moving sectors of the high-tech economy. It would allow actual tactile contact with characters and objects in the games, through a new technology that he had to struggle himself to understand, despite his excellent college education. He wasn’t a gamer himself.
Then there was the computer company in Germany that he was trying to buy out. His new laptop computer offered innovative modules that plugged in to interface with all sorts of multimedia, and it was at the top of the market for the next generation of mobile technology. But the German company had improved on his design and added a new computer chip, and was undercutting his prices. It was absorb them or lose to the competition and watch his market advantage drop like a rock. The owners of that German concern were now saying that their stockholders wouldn’t approve the deal. Jason was resigned to a hostile takeover, which was now in the initial stages.
He’d seen Kittie once or twice while he was away. He’d been in London on a layover and he dropped by the photo shoot at Dover to see how she was doing. She was going to finish sooner than she’d expected, she told him, because they’d canceled the Russian shoot. She was going home. She’d asked if she could stay in the San Antonio mansion and do a little remodeling. Nothing drastic, she promised, teasing him. She just wanted to update his curtains and décor, and she had a friend in interior design in San Antonio who would love to help her. Just a little project, she coaxed. Wouldn’t he like to change things around, just a little?
He’d agreed absently, his mind still on the German deal, making her promise not to upset Gracie anymore, or the staff. Why, of course, she’d promised, they were going to be family, after all, weren’t they? He hadn’t replied. He was already sick of the engagement. The photographer who was shooting the layout for a prominent fashion magazine seemed to be very intimate with Kittie, touching her at every opportunity. She almost purred when he slid his hand right over her bottom. Jason wasn’t surprised to find that it didn’t disturb him at all. He might be engaged, but he felt nothing for this woman. He was more determined than ever to break the engagement. It might be easier, if she was already in San Antonio when he got home. They’d have time to talk. He didn’t want to think how Gracie was going to take the woman’s sudden arrival, but he was certain that she’d find her stride. She was polite, no matter how angry she might be.
He’d tried to phone her a couple of times on his way back to Texas, but she hadn’t answered her cell phone. Probably, he thought miserably, she’d recognized his number on the caller ID and was ignoring him. He regretted the way he’d behaved. He was going to have to make it up to her somehow. If he couldn’t have her the way he wanted her, perhaps they could at least go back to a time when they’d been friends and not enemies. He was desperate to have her back in his life, in any capacity. The weeks apart from her had been agonizing. His eyes ached to see her.
JASON HAD PARKED HIS big Jaguar at the airport in a secure long-term area before he flew overseas the second time. He’d planned to drive on down to Comanche Wells and check on his ranch, but he gave way to an impulse to stop at the San Antonio mansion first. He wanted to see Gracie and make sure that Kittie hadn’t upset her or Mrs. Harcourt. He also wanted to make sure that Kittie hadn’t gone overboard with changes. He was already sorry he’d agreed to allow her to do any remodeling. That was just going to upset Gracie more.
He’d meant to phone the women from London and tell them that Kittie was coming, but he’d gotten busy and forgot. He was sorry, but it was too late now. He only hoped Kittie was being diplomatic. But judging by the past, that wasn’t really likely. He was resigned to playing peacemaker.
The first thing he noticed when he walked up onto the porch was the absence of the planters where Mrs. Harcourt had put out pansies. Frowning, he noted that Gracie’s flower beds were covered over with mulch and odd modern statues. With apprehension, he unlocked the door with his key and walked in.
He wasn’t sure that he was in the right house. The vestibule had been redone, with a black-and-white tiled floor pattern that he hated on sight. It was covering the oak flooring that had been installed by the original owner. Jason had been partial to it. Other shocks followed in short order. The living room’s cushy, comfortable furniture had been replaced by ultramodern modular pieces with no armrests. A glass coffee table adorned with a single orchid was in the spot where the beautiful antique cherry coffee table had once rested. The curtains weren’t hung, they were draped over a pole and were knobby and the color of oatmeal. Above the mantel, where his father’s portrait had hung, was a still life with fruit in a bowl.
A tall young man in a suit came into the living room. “And who might you be?” he asked with faint hauteur. “How did you get in?”
Jason turned, black eyes flashing. “With my key. Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the chauffeur.”
“Like hell you are! Where’s John?”
“If you mean that old man who used to work here, he’s gone…”
“Where’s Mrs. Harcourt? Is she in the kitchen?” he asked abruptly.
The younger man shifted uncomfortably. “You must mean Miss Gibbons—she’s the cook.”
“Dilly?” he persisted.
“Miss Sartain fired her,” he said. “She let them all go…she said they were too old…”
Jason moved a step closer and the young man shut up, flushing. “I don’t care who you are. This is my house and I didn’t hire you. Get out. Find the other new hires and take them with you.” He slid back his cuff and checked his Rolex. “You’ve got thirty minutes to vacate the premises, or I’ll have you taken out in handcuffs and charged with criminal trespass!”
“We…we were hired!”
“Not by me,” Jason said in a cold, threatening tone.
The man backed away, disconcerted. “You should talk to Miss Sartain,” he began.
“Where is she?”
There was a commotion on the staircase and Kittie came tripping down it, wearing a pretty silk pantsuit in oyster-white. “Darling!” she exclaimed, and threw herself into his arms.
He jerked away. His eyes were glittering with bad temper. “Where are my employees?” he asked curtly.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I let them go. Jason, they were old, and that Dilly, honestly, she was just so frumpy…!”
“You had no damned authority to hire and fire here!” he raged. “I said you could do some minor redecorating, not upend my whole damned life!”
She moved back a step. “It needed modernizing,” she began.
“It’s my house, Kittie,” he said coldly. “Mine! You don’t make decisions for me!”
She glared at him. “We’re getting married…”
“The hell we are!”
She hesitated. Her eyes blinked as if she couldn’t quite understand what was happening. “You bought me a ring,” she said.
“Keep it, along with the clothes,” he snapped. “But get the hell out of my house. Right now.”
She laughed nervously. “Jason, you’re just upset. Okay, I went a little too far. I can call those old people and ask them to come back…”
He had a sudden, uneasy thought. “Where’s Gracie?”
Kittie was really nervous now. “She and I had a long talk,” she said slowly. “She agreed that she needed to support herself…”
“Where?” he demanded.
“I don’t know! She borrowed your old Thunderbird and drove down to Jacobsville with that stupid cat and some things out of her room. I told her to bring the car back, but for some reason she hasn’t returned it yet. But I’m sure it’s all right,” Kittie added hastily. However, she actually found it disturbing, because Gracie knew how he treasured that old car. So why hadn’t Gracie returned it when she’d asked?!
Her room. Gracie’s room. Jason had a cold feeling. He turned, taking the steps two at a time on his way up the curving staircase. He got to Gracie’s room an
d opened it. The sight that met his eyes revolted him. Gracie’s beautiful Victorian room was a nightmare of red and black. It looked like a bordello. The furniture, all she had left of her family, was gone, as well. He opened the closet. None of her clothes were there, even the beautiful gold evening gown he’d brought her from Paris. Nothing of Gracie remained. He stared in disbelief at the wreck before him.
“This room was a disgrace,” Kittie huffed from behind him. “Rose and white! What sort of woman wants a color scheme like that anymore? It’s right out of the 1800s…!”
Jason turned and stared at her with eyes so cold she felt a chill. “Where are her clothes, her furniture?” he asked in a low, threatening tone.
She folded her arms over her chest and pouted. “Well, she took some of her clothes,” she faltered. “I gave the rest away.”
His fists clenched by his side. He was almost vibrating with rage.
“She was in my way!” she exploded. Her blue eyes sparked at him. “You were obsessed with her! All you ever talked about was Gracie, Gracie, Gracie! You couldn’t even kiss me! And here she was, living with you, spending your money, coddling those old people who couldn’t even do the job properly. Yes, I threw her out! She didn’t argue. She said she was glad to go!” She didn’t add that she’d used blackmail to accomplish Gracie’s eviction.
He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Kittie noticed it, but she didn’t care. “If it hadn’t been for her, you’d have married me. I’d have been set for life,” she blurted out. “I’m sick of modeling. I wanted to come home and mix with the right people, have money to spend, buy what I wanted without having to look at price tags, always have the latest, best cars. I wanted to be rich! And all you wanted was to sit and moon over Gracie.” Her eyes flashed. “Well, all right, if you want to ditch me, go ahead. Like I want to live with a man who can’t bring himself to touch me because he’s lusting after his own stepsister!”