by Diana Palmer
She sat down heavily on the sofa. Her tired eyes met his. “My husband had just died and I needed a job, badly. Mr. Pendleton’s housekeeper had quit—he couldn’t keep any of them for long because of his temper. I just talked back to him instead of cowering. He liked it.” She managed a smile. “He was a very handsome man, and he could be charming, absolutely charming. His wife went to spend the summer with her sister in Bermuda.” She avoided his eyes. “I was lonely. He brought me presents, gave me flowers, made me feel like a princess. I got pregnant. He seemed to be expecting it. He smiled and said I wasn’t to worry, he’d take care of everything.” She shook her head. “He told her. She was very calm. She said it would be easy for us to go away together. She’d tell people she was pregnant and her health was fragile. The cover story was that I had to look after her until the baby was born. He put us on a plane. We came home after I had the baby. They assured me that they’d take care of the baby, that it would never want for anything. And I could stay on and help raise it.”
“Good God!” he burst out, aghast.
“I know, it sounds insane. I was too upset to fight. I didn’t want people to know how stupid I’d been.” She shook her head. “Apparently your mother knew what he planned to do.” She grimaced. “Your father…well, he wasn’t exactly a model of the virtues.”
“Yes, I know,” he said coldly. “My mother knew?”
“She was barren. They were both horrified that the mansion and all their money might go to a distant relative. They wanted a child, but not an adopted one. I was so naive,” she added miserably. “I had a great time overseas. I loved being pregnant. Myron flew over when I went into labor. When you were born, they were overjoyed. You were at least half a Pendleton, you see. I was just the incubator.”
“It was cruel,” he said heavily, dropping into an armchair across from her. “It was even worse when he died. He left you out of his will entirely. I won’t tell you what he said. If only I’d known,” he groaned, and his eyes were anguished as they met hers.
“I didn’t mind about the will. I never expected anything. I was just happy that I got to be with you while you were growing up. I’m sorry you had to find this out,” she apologized. “I know you loved your mother.”
His black eyes darkened even more. “I never loved her,” he returned at once. “She was as cold as ice. I remember being sick and throwing up with the flu when I was about five years old. She was horrified that I might soil her dress.”
“Yes, you had measles,” she recalled softly. “I sat up with you for two nights, feeding you ice chips, so you wouldn’t get dehydrated.”
“You were always the one who took care of me,” he replied huskily. “My mother had no time for me. She was too busy being a socialite. My father wasn’t much better. He was interested in making more money. Neither of them had the foggiest idea of how to be a parent.”
“I did my best to make up for them,” Mrs. Harcourt said.
“And you did,” he said, his eyes soft as they met hers. “I had a wonderful childhood, thanks to you.” He grimaced. “You should have told me!”
She dabbed at her eyes. “I know,” she said heavily. She looked at him worriedly. “Those reporters are going to make it look so bad,” she moaned.
Jason lifted an eyebrow. “That’s what you think. Gracie and I already have a plan.”
Her eyes widened. “A plan? What is it?”
He smiled gently. “We’re going to turn the tables on Kittie.”
“We are?” she exclaimed, fascinated.
He chuckled. “Oh, yes. Her plan is going to backfire on her, big-time!”
15
“YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE a businesswoman out of me?” Mrs. Harcourt exclaimed. “But I’m just a plain old country woman. I’ll never be able to convince anybody that I’m business material. You’ll be ashamed of me, Jason. Everybody will laugh at you.”
He got up from his chair and pulled her up, looking into her eyes that were so much like his. “You’re my mother,” he said, and the words came out raspy and with wonder. “My very own mother. I could never be ashamed of you!”
As more tears flowed down her pale cheeks. “All these years,” she whispered, “I’ve watched you grow. I’ve seen the way you treated people, how you make everybody feel important and never look down on anyone because they’re poor. You have so many good qualities, Jason, so many more than your father ever did.” She gazed up at him. “I’ve been so proud of you. I wanted more than anything to tell you. But it wasn’t Myron’s threat that kept me quiet. It was the fear that you’d, well, be humiliated to know your mother was an ignorant, common sort of person….”
“You stop that,” he said firmly. “You’re the nicest person I know. You never gossip, you’re always smiling, you give away what little you’ve got to anyone with a greater need, and you cook like an angel. You have wonderful qualities. I’m proud to be your son.” His voice broke on the word. “More proud than I can tell you.”
“Oh, my dear,” she whispered tearfully, and suddenly pulled him into her arms, rocking him as she had when he was little and scared and hurt. So many times she’d ached to do this, to hold him and have him know that he was flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood. She’d loved him more than her own life. And now, at last, she could tell him. “My son!” she choked.
Jason couldn’t answer her. His voice would have betrayed him. He held her tight and rocked her in the silence of the living room. Nobody was going to hurt her. He’d fight the world to keep her safe. She was his very own. His mother!
A long time later, he eased her out of his arms and dashed a hand across his eyes before he turned back to her.
“We’ve got to get moving, fast,” he said. “We may not have much time.”
Mrs. Harcourt beamed through her tears. “Okay! I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
FIRST, THEY MOVED HER into Jason’s rental house with some help from their friends. Grange was sent back to the ranch house to pile some afghans into a box and bring them to the small craft shop off the square in Jacobsville. He hadn’t seen a single reporter or satellite truck yet, he told them, which was a relief. It gave them time to put their plan into operation.
Jason opened the shop with his key and he and Gracie spread the pretty crocheted pieces in the front window. Jason called the manager at home from his cell phone while they worked and gave her instructions. She was a good woman, and she liked Mrs. Harcourt, who bought all her yarn there. She agreed to tell any reporters who turned up what Jason had said.
All the shifting accomplished, they went back to Barbara’s house and waited for Grange to call them. He was contacting some people he knew to try to find out where the satellite trucks had gone.
Jason and Gracie drank coffee at Barbara’s kitchen table and discussed what to do next.
“It’s disgraceful,” Barbara muttered. “That awful woman, to do such a thing out of wounded pride!”
“Wounded wallet, more like,” Gracie murmured with forced humor.
Jason glanced at her. They’d hardly spoken ten words since the nightmare began. His eyes were promising trouble when things settled down. Gracie didn’t know what else she could say in her own defense. He was upset and he wasn’t really listening. All his energies right now were concentrated on saving his mother from the media.
Finally, Jason’s cell phone rang. It was Grange. Jason listened, his eyes widened and he burst out laughing. “Okay. Thanks. I owe you one.” He hung up. He looked at the two women. “You aren’t going to believe this. They don’t know about Mrs. Harcourt after all. That computer game software I bought in California has just hit the shelves and it’s a runaway bestseller, setting new records. The media’s after me for a quote. They said my decision to fund the creators was a stroke of genius.”
“Well!” Gracie exclaimed, relieved. “We went to a lot of trouble for nothing.”
Jason pursed his lips. “Do you think so? I don’t.” He pulled out his cell phone and cal
led the detective he used for special jobs. He outlined what he thought Kittie was planning and asked the man to check around and see if she was gossiping about her future schemes. He gave him information about Mrs. Harcourt, to Gracie’s astonishment, that he wanted leaked to the tabloid media. Then he added a request to look in Kittie’s own background and see what turned up. He was smiling coldly when he hung up.
“That takes the fight into the enemy’s camp,” Jason said. “We’ll spike her guns by releasing the story before she has time to. God help her if she’s hiding any dark secrets. This thing works both ways.”
“That’s what I would have done,” Barbara commented coolly. “She’s good at starting trouble. I wonder how she is at handling it?”
“We’re going to find out,” Jason said. “First thing in the morning, the tabloids will announce to the world that my housekeeper has just confessed to being my mother. We’ll add that she was the owner of a craft shop and hadn’t told me. She worked at the house just to be close to me.”
“What about the rest of it?” Gracie asked worriedly.
“The rest of it will never come out,” he said easily. “I’ve already taken steps to assure it. Never mind asking, I won’t tell you. Now, suppose we go home and get some sleep? I don’t know about you two, but I’m tired.”
“Are you going to call Mrs. Harcourt?” Gracie asked.
“We’re going to get her and take her home with us,” he replied. “No need letting her brood alone.”
Gracie smiled. “Good idea.”
“Thanks, Barbara,” Jason said, kissing her cheek. “You’re the best.”
Gracie hugged her, too. “I’ll second that.”
Barbara watched them off before she turned out her porch light.
THEY DIDN’T SPEAK ON the way to get Mrs. Harcourt. They didn’t really speak when they got back to the ranch house, either. Jason left the women in the living room while he checked with Grange on any problems around the ranch.
“I thought he’d be furious,” Mrs. Harcourt told Gracie. “He’s taken it very well.”
“I wonder,” Gracie said quietly, because he was too calm. She knew him. He was brooding and still angry at her, she was certain of it.
He came back into the living room just in time to wish Mrs. Harcourt a good night’s sleep. He smiled and kissed her cheek.
“Maybe we can all sleep,” she agreed. “I’ll make you a nice breakfast.”
He chuckled. “Something to look forward to,” he teased.
“Sleep well…son,” she said, trying out this new word. She flushed a little when he grinned at her.
His black eyes warmed. “You, too, Mom.” It came easily to him.
She lifted her cheek for him to kiss, hugged him and then laughed self-consciously as she wished them both good-night and went down the hall toward her own room.
Jason turned back to Gracie. He wasn’t smiling now. “I’ll sleep in the guest room,” he said curtly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Jason…”
He ignored her. He walked down the hall, turned into the guest room and closed the door. Gracie stood staring at the empty space with quiet misery.
THE NEXT MORNING, they had a quiet breakfast after which Jason announced that he was driving up to San Antonio to the mansion to see if any satellite trucks were still guarding the entrance. If they were, he said, he had a story to tell them.
“I could go, too,” Gracie began.
“You’ve taken several days off already,” Jason said without meeting her eyes. “If you want to keep that job, you’d better get back to it.”
She grimaced—he was right. Her teaching position at the college wouldn’t survive another three days of begging for substitutes to fill in for her. Besides, there were only two more class periods left in the semester. “I guess so.”
He finished his last sip of coffee and got to his feet. “Everything was delicious,” he told his mother with a grin and bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be home for supper.”
“You be careful,” Mrs. Harcourt said. “Those kidnappers are still out there.”
“You could take Grange with you,” Gracie added worriedly.
He glared in her general direction. “We took bodyguards to Cancún with us, and there wasn’t even a hint of trouble. They’ve got other fish to fry now.”
She sighed. “Be careful, anyway.”
He made a sound deep in his throat and met her eyes for a long minute before he could tear them away. He was still hurt that she hadn’t told him. “I won’t be too long.”
He walked out onto the porch. The women exchanged worried glances. He was headstrong and stubborn. But maybe they were concerned for no good reason.
AND MAYBE NOT. SUPPERTIME came, but no Jason. Gracie called the mansion, with Mrs. Harcourt wringing her hands next to her.
The interim housekeeper there answered the phone. “No, Miss Gracie,” she said, “I haven’t seen Mr. Jason at all today. Are you sure he said he was coming here?”
“Yes. What about the satellite trucks?”
“Oh, they left yesterday. Nobody’s even called here. Well, except this strange man,” she added slowly.
Gracie’s heart jumped. “What strange man?”
“Some man with a thick Spanish accent. He said he had Mr. Jason, that he was going to stay with him for a few days and he’d be in touch about what he wanted in return. I thought he was some kook, so I didn’t—”
“When did he call? How long ago?” Gracie interrupted urgently.
“Just a few minutes before you did…”
“If he calls again, you reach me on my cell phone. Here’s the number, so you won’t have to search for it.” She gave it to the woman, waiting impatiently while she found a pen to write with. “You call me if he phones. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am, I sure will.”
“Thanks.” Gracie hung up. Her face was white. “I knew it. I knew they’d keep on until they got him! It’s that damned Fuentes bunch. They want him for helping Rodrigo shut them down, for paying Eb Scott’s group to get him out!”
“What do we do?” Mrs. Harcourt asked miserably. “They’ll kill him! Even if they get some ransom, they’ll kill him!”
Gracie took her by the shoulders. “They’re not killing Jason,” she said. “Not while there’s a breath left in my body!”
“But what can we do?”
Forcing herself to stay calm, Gracie thought feverishly about what her next move should be. Jason had a cell phone. If he’d been kidnapped, his kidnappers would have the phone. She had a direct line to them if it was still on. She wasn’t involving the government or Eb Scott. She had money of her own, although she’d never touched it. She had over two hundred thousand dollars in certificates of deposit that Jason’s father had left her—identical bequeaths to both her and Glory. She could use that money to ransom Jason, if only the General was still in charge down there over the border. He needed money to fund his counterrevolution and she had some. Now all she had to do was get him on the phone and have him get Jason away from the Fuentes bunch. But first she had to get through to Machado.
She picked up her cell phone and dialed Jason’s number. She crossed her fingers, teeth clenched, as it rang and rang and rang. She’d almost given up when a deep voice came over the line.
“¡Digame!”
She could have cried with relief. She knew that voice. She would have recognized it anywhere. “General Machado!”
There was a pause. “Gracie? ¿Eres tu?” he asked in the familiar tense.
She smiled through tears. “Yes, it’s me. Do you have Jason?”
There was another pause, with muffled laughter. “Sí. Fuentes had him kidnapped, but I took him away from that bunch. Yes, I have him. You want your stepbrother back, huh?”
“My husband,” she said gently. “He’s my husband now.”
“You married him? Niña, the man is a tiger,” he groaned. “He knocked the teeth out of two of Fuentes’s men and then he c
rippled one of my own. He is one mean hombre!”
Gracie laughed softly. “Yes, he is. Can I have him back? I can bring you more than enough money to take back your government.”
“You can? But he has the money, no?”
“I have money of my own. It sits in a bank and draws interest. You can do good things with it. Almost a quarter of a million dollars.”
“Caramba, I could take over the world with that much!”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“You have not called your government?”
“I don’t need to. I knew that if you had Jason, we could come to an agreement that was mutually beneficial,” she added with a relieved laugh.
He chuckled. “As we can. The bank will need to be open, in order for you to get the money, no? Suppose you meet me in Mala Suerte at eleven tomorrow morning, at the Chinese restaurant, in the parking lot?”
She laughed. “The Chinese restaurant?”
“I like Chinese food,” he laughed. “Besides, we will attract less attention there. You must drive something less noticeable than the big Jaguar, sí?”
“I’ll drive one of the ranch trucks,” she said easily. “Don’t hurt him, okay?” she added hopefully.
“It is not him that I must worry about,” he said drily, “but my own poor men. But no, I won’t hurt him. See you tomorrow. Niña, if I see more than a truck, I drive back to Mexico, entiendes?”
“I understand, and you won’t see more than my truck. Good night.”
“Good night.”
She hung up with a long sigh. “He’s okay. He’s busted up some of the kidnappers, but he seems to be fine,” she laughed.
Mrs. Harcourt laughed, too. “That’s my boy.” She grimaced. “I wish I could give you the money. I hate that you have to give up your inheritance.”
“I love Jason,” she said simply. “I’d give up anything to get him back. It’s just money. Besides, I’d never be able to get access to any of Jason’s assets. You remember what happened when he tried to get a loan from his friend who was president of that San Antonio bank when I was kidnapped.”