“It’s bad luck. Sinclair looks like he’s seen a ghost.”
“Has he left yet?” Annie glanced out the window. She couldn’t see his car from here.
“Just drove out of here like he had a hellhound on his heels.”
She finally turned to look at Vicki. “Why does he want to reconcile when his ex-wife doesn’t?” The question burned in her brain. She didn’t know what kind of relationship they had. Though if Diana had gone through almost an entire pregnancy without telling him, they could hardly be close.
“Sinclair is a diehard romantic. He probably believes a baby can fix everything. Diana isn’t, though. She’s about as emotional as this radish.” She plucked a radish from the bunch on the counter, and bit into it.
Annie’s heart was breaking. It seemed such a waste. She and Sinclair could have been happy together, but now he was going back to a woman who’d only hurt him.
“Why did Sinclair fall in love with her?” It felt good to get the question off her chest.
Vicki shrugged. “She’s beautiful. Very manipulative and controlling. She probably told him what he wanted to hear.” She raised a brow. “At least until after they were married.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell him she was pregnant until now?”
“I suppose it didn’t suit her. Maybe she had someone even richer and more handsome up her sleeve.” She shook her head. “Though frankly that’s hard to imagine. Sinclair’s a real catch.”
“Then how come you don’t want him for yourself?” Annie could hardly believe how bold and blunt she was being. Maybe because she had nothing left to lose. “I can tell that you don’t.”
Vicki laughed. “Sinclair’s far too good for me. He’d be thoroughly wasted.” Her violet eyes took on a wistful look. “Sinclair really is one in a million, and I don’t say that because of his wealth and flashy looks. He’s a truly good person, principled to the core, who only wants to do the right thing.”
“So how come he keeps screwing up?”
Vicki stared at her for a moment, then snorted with loud laughter. “You’re showing a whole other side of yourself today, Annie. And your guess is as good as mine. Why are men stupid? It’s the eternal question of women.”
Annie rankled at Vicki calling Sinclair stupid. He was as intelligent as a person could get. On the other hand, he had very poor taste in women. Except for her. Or was she just another example of him falling into the arms of someone utterly wrong for him?
Her insides felt raw and empty and her brain worked too hard to grapple with events that didn’t make any sense at all. Poor Sinclair, doomed to make the same mistake again. And poor her, left alone to lick her wounds.
Vicki played with the clasp on her heavy silver bracelet. “Oh, well. He’s gone now. All good things must come to an end, though this certainly wasn’t the end I had in mind. I’m sorry for encouraging you.” The look she shot her was genuinely apologetic. “I hope I haven’t screwed things up for you.”
“Not any more than they already were.” Annie let out a sigh. She couldn’t stay now. There was no way she could continue to work here after making love to Sinclair for a second time and being unceremoniously dumped again. It didn’t matter how good his reason was, she needed to save herself from this situation. That would mean leaving Katherine Drummond in the lurch, but she could hire someone else to buy her fresh greens and bake quinoa muffins for the rest of the summer. “I’d better put lunch out.”
“I’ll bring the plates.”
Lunch was a grim affair. Annie wasn’t sitting at the table, of course, but hovering nearby. Katherine, usually talkative and full of plans, was oddly silent. She looked paler than she had lately. Apparently the news of her new grandchild was not quite as happy as it could have been. “Oh, poor Sinclair,” she said at last, after toying with her chicken salad for a while. “That woman will never make him happy.”
“She won’t.” Vicki was the only one with an appetite. She helped herself to more salad and bread. “So we’ll have to hurry up and put this damn cup back together and get the fates back on the right track.”
Katherine gave a small laugh. “I’m beginning to think it’s just a story and that there’s no cup at all. We’ve been through nearly every box and basket and strange multi-strapped valise in that attic. We’ve certainly found some interesting things, but nothing that looks like one-third of a three-hundred-year-old Scottish cup.”
Vicki lacked her usual sparkle. “Maybe the three brothers reunited and put it back together, and this is as good as it gets.”
“They didn’t, though.” Katherine frowned at her untouched glass of sparkling water. “Aaron Drummond, the son of our ancestor, kept a diary and he wrote several times about his father’s disappointment at never reuniting with his brothers. He was moaning about it on his deathbed.”
“Bummer. Why didn’t they get back together?”
“According to his diary, one of the brothers was arrested for stealing, escaped from prison and became a pirate, harassing vessels from Virginia to Florida. Then he disappeared. The third brother made his fortune trapping beavers, then went back to Scotland and bought back the ancestral home. They’re still there. I suppose an Atlantic crossing wasn’t the kind of journey you’d make just to visit family, back then. So they never even saw each other again. Our ancestor built the oldest part of this house, and our branch of the family has owned it ever since, so if his piece of the cup is anywhere at all, it’s here.”
“And maybe it will stay here for another three hundred years.” Vicki sighed and broke off a piece of bread. “As for reuniting all three pieces, I don’t imagine the pirate ancestor took very good care of his piece, anyway.”
“According to contemporary stories he had gold and treasure buried all up and down the East Coast. Not here, though. He never came near New York. Maybe he didn’t want to face his brother after he became an outlaw.” She stared at her glass for a moment.
“It would be interesting to at least get the other relatives searching for the other pieces. Maybe you could offer a reward to sweeten the pot?”
“A reward? As far as I know, the other Drummond descendants are as wealthy as Sinclair. They’d hardly go digging up the garden for a few grand.”
“Exactly.” Vicki leaned forward. “They don’t care about it because they think they have everything they need already. It might make more sense to get other people involved. Someone with a true financial incentive will hunt for the cup to earn the money, then the Drummonds will benefit from their hard work.”
“Total strangers?” Katherine looked alarmed.
“It’s an idea. Otherwise I’m worried we’ll never find all three pieces.”
From her vantage point near the sideboard, Annie noticed that calculating look creep back into Vicki’s eyes. She wandered back into the kitchen. She couldn’t care less about Vicki’s nefarious plots at this point. She just needed to get lunch over with and give notice. Right now she felt numb as a zombie. She was about to quit her job of six years, had no place to go except the home—admittedly loving—she’d tried so hard to escape, and no prospect of any job at all.
“You’re not going to quit, are you?” Vicki’s voice sounded right next to her in the kitchen. How did this woman move around like a shadow?
“Why do you care?” Her emotions bubbled into her voice. “What does it matter? I’m sure you think I’m wasting my life dusting the sideboards here, anyway.”
“Well, that is true.” Vicki frowned. “I guess I just don’t want it to be my fault.”
“Trust me. It isn’t. I’ve been thinking about moving on with my life and this is the final kick in the pants I needed, so you can enjoy the rest of the summer guilt-free. Though I would appreciate it if you looked out for Katherine. I promised Sinclair I’d take care of her, but…” Her chest tightened at the prospect of letting him down. She didn’t like to go back on her word. On the other hand, it was time she put herself first for once. She’d been a doormat for too lon
g, and these people were all adults who could take care of themselves, or at least pay someone else handsomely to do it.
“Of course.” Vicki looked totally serious. “I’ll make sure she has the most relaxing and healthful summer of her life.” She exhaled. “What a mess. I hope Sinclair doesn’t do anything really stupid, like marry Diana again.”
“Whatever he does, it’s none of my business. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Katherine.”
Ten
Sinclair pulled his rented car out of the Santa Barbara airport with a drumbeat of dread in his heart. He didn’t relish the sight of his ex-wife’s face. He’d learned, gradually, that its perfect contours and smooth skin were not the result of a peaceful temperament or even good breeding, but rather the skill and tenacity of an army of surgeons and technicians with expertise in everything from sandblasting to spray tans. Terrified of wrinkles, she slept with a paste of cream around her eyes and neck. Even her lustrous dark hair wasn’t natural. She had hanks of someone else’s hair woven into it every three weeks. A bitter taste rose in his mouth at the prospect of ever having to kiss those silicone-plumped lips again.
Pain stabbed his heart at the memory of Annie’s natural beauty. Her pale skin with its light sprinkling of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Her hair, which at first appeared to be light brown, but in a shaft of light revealed itself as a mass of red-gold silk. Her natural features, so pretty in their slight unevenness, and the crinkles that danced around her eyes when she smiled. Her slender, natural body with its ripe, soft curves and eager affection.
Regret soaked through him at the memory of how he’d treated her. Hungry with need that had clawed at his insides for two weeks, he’d peeled her beautiful dress off her and ravished her under the moonlight, with barely a sprinkling of pleasantries to smooth the way. He’d never felt such powerful desire for any woman and he still didn’t understand it. Something about Annie reached deep inside him and held on tight.
So to have to tell her, this morning, that they couldn’t be together, was agonizing. Cruel to her, torture for him. He let out a curse. Frustration crackled in his veins. He’d come so close to what seemed like happiness, only to have it snatched away again.
Maybe he was cursed. His mom was right and the whole damn family line was doomed to a miserable existence in a marriage of quiet resentment, like the one he’d witnessed between his own parents.
The cold grip of dread grew stronger as he pulled up in front of Diana’s house. It seemed only a few months ago that they’d chosen it—well, she had, he hadn’t liked the ornate Mediterranean exterior much, but at that point he was still trying to make his new bride happy. He’d been glad to give it to her in the divorce and say goodbye to both at the same time.
Muscles taut, he rang the doorbell. No answer. He rang again. Three cars sat in the driveway, so someone was home. At last he heard footsteps on the stone-tiled hallway and the door was flung open. “Sinclair!” The alarmed tone and the appalled look on his ex-wife’s face gave him all the welcome he’d been expecting.
“I had to come see you.”
“Why? I told you not to come.” She made no move to invite him in. She filled the doorway almost completely, her huge belly hidden behind a veritable toga of ivory silk. Her face was bloated and puffy, which, combined with her heavy makeup, made her look like something from a horror movie.
Stop these ugly thoughts. She’s the mother of your child.
“Why? Because we’re having a child together.”
“No, we’re not.” She glanced behind her. He thought he saw someone move in the large kitchen at the far end of the foyer. “I’m having a baby. We’re divorced, in case you’ve forgotten. Still, since you’re here, you better come in.”
Her voice had an acid tone he hadn’t heard before. Maybe now the divorce was final she didn’t feel the need to cajole him into giving her more of what she loved most—money.
“If I’m the father…” Yes, he had doubts. But those weren’t enough to keep him away. An innocent baby deserved the benefit of the doubt. “Then I intend to play a full and active role in our child’s life, and we’ll need to establish at the very least an honest working relationship.” Any ideas of getting back together with her had fled at the sight of her angry, bitter stare.
“What’s up, babe?” A gruff male voice echoed from the back of the house.
She swallowed and glanced behind her again.
“Who’s that?” Sinclair’s hackles rose. Was she living with someone already? Right now the thought of another man raising his child made his chest hurt.
“That’s Larry. Larry, come meet Sinclair.” She regarded him coolly as a hulking brute of a man, aged about twenty-two and with bleached blond hair, appeared behind her.
Larry nodded and took up a bodyguard-like position behind Diana.
“May I come in?” It rankled having to ask for an invitation into the house he’d bought for them to share.
“I suppose you’ll have to.” Diana turned, caftan flaring, and walked along the highway to an overdecorated living room. “Though you won’t need to stay long. I told you our marriage is over.”
“Not if we’re having a child together. Why didn’t you mention the pregnancy during the divorce?”
She twisted a big ring on one of her fingers. “I didn’t want you feeling like you owned a part of me.” She lifted her proud chin. “That you had rights over my future.”
“Then why now?” None of this made sense.
She gestured to her large belly. “My livelihood depends on me being able to attend parties and interface with people. I confess I didn’t realize how much a pregnancy would impact that. Obviously I can’t be seen in public right now.”
He wanted to laugh—or at the very least, agree. Instead he just felt sad. “So this is all about money. You don’t want me in your child’s life—you just want me to bankroll your existence while you take care of it.”
“Pretty much.” Her hard stare made his chest constrict.
“Have you taken a DNA test?”
“Yes, I told you that on the phone.”
It was the reason he’d come here so fast. But now that he was here, something about the situation smelled like a week-dead New York City subway rat. “Let me see the results.”
“I don’t know where they are.” She crossed her arms in the valley between her swollen breasts and her enormous belly.
“So you just expect me to take your word for it that they show the baby is mine?”
“I know you don’t want a messy court case. And really, a little child support is peanuts to you. Just pay it and leave me alone. I’ll let you see the child whenever you want.”
Something in her eyes made him want to push further. “I need to see the test results.” Diana wasn’t a liar. If anything she was honest to a fault. There must be a reason she wouldn’t show him the results.
“You do not. I’m nine months pregnant. Nine months ago we were still married,” she snarled angrily. “The baby’s yours. Do the math.”
“That assumes that you weren’t cheating on me during our marriage, when you’ve already admitted that you were.”
“I only said that because New York doesn’t have no-fault divorce, so somebody has to cheat.” That’s what she’d claimed at the time. He hadn’t believed her then, either. “I conceived while still married, and you’re the father.”
“I no longer intend to take your word for anything. You’ll have to take another test.”
“I’m not putting the baby at risk by having a needle stabbed into my womb at this late stage.” Her eyes bulged as she stared at him, and her swollen breasts looked as if they might pop right out of her toga. Which was not an appetizing thought.
“Then I’ll wait here until it’s delivered. One of the advantages of owning your own company is that you can do as you please, and from the look of you, I won’t have to wait here long.” If it was his baby he’d swallow his resentment and anger and make th
e best of the situation. If it wasn’t…?
* * *
“Annie!” Her grandmother’s big, soft arms encased her in a hug that made her want to collapse and rest. “Why’ve you been a stranger so long?”
“I was home for Christmas.” That sounded pathetic. “I’ve just been wrapped up in…stuff.” She’d quit her job in Dog Harbor yesterday and left early this morning, with most of her belongings in cardboard boxes that had been very awkward to carry on the train.
“How long are you staying?” Her grandmother pushed her back so she could survey her. “You look pale as a slab of squid. You’re not sick, are you?”
She shook her head and tried to smile. “I’m fine.” Just heartsick. “I’d like to stay until I find a new job. If you’ll all have me back, that is.”
Granny Pat’s mouth opened wide for a moment. “You quit your job?”
She nodded. “It was time. I’d been there six years and was stuck in a rut.”
Her grandmother grimaced. “Not a great time to find a job, hon. Your sister’s been looking with no luck.”
“I know. But I couldn’t help it.” She tried for a casual shrug.
“Something else is wrong.” Her grandma’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “I can always tell.”
“There was…someone.” Tears welled up inside her and she willed them not to spill from her eyes. “But that’s over now.” Thankfully the story had never moved into the mainstream process.
“Oh.” Granny Pat folded her arms to her ample bosom again. “Poor baby. You tell Granny Pat where he lives and I’ll go shake some sense into him.”
Annie had to laugh. “If only it were that easy.”
“Well, come in and park your stuff. We’ve been piling junk in your old room, but we’ll move it out on the double.”
The junk didn’t have anywhere else to go, though, so that night she found herself in bed surrounded by grocery boxes full of garage-sale “treasures” that her mom and grandma had accumulated over the past few years. Maybe if she looked through them hard enough she’d find one-third of an old Scottish cup. Her bed was lumpy, and single. Being back in it felt like the grimmest admission of failure.
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