“Yes, well,” Ephie offered by way of testing whether the conversation would be continued or if she should get the hell out of the kitchen before she got singed.
Griffin’s newspaper shield went up with a snap, and Lillian turned her head slowly to face Ephie once more.
“Don’t pay him any mind. Il mio amore, he does not enjoy such talk.”
“He also doesn’t enjoy being spoken about in the third person while he’s in the room,” he quipped from behind his paper.
“It’s all right. I should get to work, anyway.”
“Nonsense.” Lillian covered Ephie’s hand with her own, stopping her as she attempted to get up from her seat. “Sit. Sit.” She tilted her head at Ephie, considering. “It’s obvious you have feelings for him.”
Ephie dropped her gaze.
“That’s the thing, feelings weren’t supposed to be part of the equation.”
“I see.”
Ephie lifted her head, curious about the understanding she heard in the older woman’s voice.
“Do you?”
“I think so, at least where young Mr. Briar is concerned. A man in his position, it’s not difficult to understand his desire for a simple outlet for his, ah, energies.” Before Griffin, Lillian had prided herself on avoiding emotional entanglements. Perhaps she did understand. “But I do admit your willingness, dear Ephie…It is a bit confusing.”
“It was an experiment. I wanted to prove something to myself.”
A rustle had Ephie turning her head. She found Griffin staring at her over the folded corner of his newspaper, his face a study in astonishment.
“What, that there are men willing to sleep with any young, attractive, intelligent woman who asks? I could have told you that. They don’t even have to be all that intelligent, attractive, or young.”
“David’s not like that.”
“No? So all this no feelings crap, that was your idea?”
“No. I—Why are you getting so upset?”
“Why am I—” He pressed his lips tight while he carefully folded the section of newspaper he held, placing it on the table in front of him before turning to face her. “I would have thought you’d had enough heartache for twenty lifetimes. Why would you go looking for more?”
“I wasn’t looking for more. I told you, it was just sex.”
“Really?” He leaned toward her. “Well, I saw your face just now, and it was not the look of a woman hearing a bit of sad news about a former lover, Ephie. That was the face of a woman devastated to learn the man she cares about has lost his father. I might go so far as to say it was the face of a woman in love.”
Ephie stood so quickly she had to press her fingertips to the tabletop for balance.
“I am not in love with David Briar!”
“Whatever you say.”
“Griffin, I’m not!”
“Fine. You’re not.”
He shrugged, but his mouth twisted in disbelief.
“I’m not!”
“Enough! Both of you.”
The cool command diffused the heated exchange. Ephie turned to find Lillian bestowing a bemused smile on the two idiots who’d been about to embark on an epic “am/am not” battle across the breakfast table from her. Ephie sat down. She looked at Griffin. He appeared to feel as ridiculous as she felt.
“Griffin, I’m sorry.”
“So am I. It’s just”—he covered one of her hands with his, giving a conciliatory squeeze—“I hate the idea of you getting hurt.”
“David didn’t hurt me. But I’m very afraid I might have hurt him.”
“He’s a grown man, dear. Certainly, he’ll recover.”
“I wish I were as confident, Lillian.” Slipping her hand from beneath Griffin’s, Ephie again got to her feet. “Thank you for your concern, but…I really think I should get to work.” Lillian and Griffin opened their mouths in tandem, prompting Ephie to finish in a rush. “I’ll think about what you said.” She looked at them each in turn. “Both of you.”
And then, before the Bennetts offered any further fodder for her nearly overtaxed mind, Ephie hurried from the room.
Chapter 24
THE alcove, lit by diffused moonlight, held the hush of a confessional. David hid in its shadows, the steady murmur of voices beyond the velvet curtain underscoring the chaos of his scattered thoughts.
A cardio infarction. His father never knew what hit him. One minute, he was enjoying his first cup of coffee while watching the morning news and the next he was dead. Could happen to anyone, and did, hundreds of times each day. But statistics did little to ease the shock.
David had been in a fog when—less than twenty-four hours after Dan’s phone call—he’d welcomed his father home for the very last time. Even settling the body of Edward Michael Briar onto a stainless-steel shelf in the walk-in he’d had installed didn’t touch David. Not until he’d heard the prophetic finality in the metallic click of the latch had the mist cleared. David had collapsed into the chair closest to the door. He’d remained there all night, strangely comforted by the familiar space where he and his father had spent the majority of their time together.
He wished he could recall those hours with a measure of contentment, but he’d been an angry, miserable child, lashing out at the only parent still within reach. His piss-poor attitude notwithstanding, his father had carried on, teaching David everything he needed to know to carry on the family legacy. There’d never been any doubt it would be him. His older brother, Daniel, could hardly bring himself to walk down the stairs to the basement, never mind learn that side of the business or—Shudder!—touch a body.
David wondered if his father had worried about his younger son, a boy as likely to be watching an embalmer at work as playing in the yard. He supposed he’d understood. After all, they’d had it in common, an innate empathy for the dead. David fervently wished he’d learned to extend the same sentiment to the living.
He’d had no compassion for his father, blaming him for allowing his mother to abandon the family. An understandable reaction for a prepubescent boy with limited emotional resources, but in a grown man it appeared grotesque. David would have liked to have told his father he was sorry. He had a newfound appreciation for the strength it must have taken to face each day knowing the woman he’d hoped to spend his life with had opted to disappear into oblivion rather than spend another day with him.
Ephie hadn’t left. No, David had sent her away. But the effect ended up being the same. He was alone, just like he claimed to like it. The truth, though, was he ached for her. Needed to feel her body next to his, to hear her sexy giggle, to see her face. But he hadn’t been able to tell her. Just like he’d never been able to tell his father how very sad and sorry he was Natalie Briar had chosen to leave them…leave all of them.
“David?”
He sucked in an unsteady breath as he spotted the bottom halves of two black patent leather stilettos beneath the hem of the curtain shielding him from view. Before he had time to exhale, Ephie slipped into the small space with him, her slim form and graceful entry barely disturbing the heavy red drape. And then she was there, standing in front of him with her hands clasped together as if she were restraining herself, big brown eyes brimming with tears.
“Ephie.”
“David, I’m so sorry.”
She moved toward him, but he stopped her with an outstretched arm, his palm up like a shield. He had to warn her, tell her if she came any closer he might never be able to let her go. Instead, he lowered his gaze. It hurt too damn much to look at her.
Unaware of the danger, she sat next to him, dipping her head so she could look up into his downcast eyes. He attempted to return her wavering smile, but sorrow, profound and eddying, flooded his chest. With a groan of surrender, David grabbed Ephie with both hands.
He buried his face in the crease where her neck met her shoulder, drinking in the sweet warmth of her skin. For long moments, they clung to
one another, Ephie rocking him gently as if comforting a child woken by a nightmare. But then, before he realized what he was doing, he found her lips with his. She softened beneath him, welcoming his grief, encouraging him to share it with her. And heaven help him, he did, kissing her as if absolution could be found in her tender affection.
The harsh scrape of metal over metal startled David. Turning his head, he found his sister-in-law, Margaret, standing in the opened archway. Hands on hips, she scowled at them, her mouth drawn in a prim line.
He and Ephie got to their feet simultaneously, but when Margaret gave no indication she intended to give way, David pulled Ephie close to his side and prepared for the berating. He didn’t have long to wait.
“I should have guessed.” Her disapproving gaze lit on each of them in turn before settling on Ephie. “You must be his latest. No, don’t bother telling me your name. You won’t be around any longer than the others, I’m sure. How fortunate, though, you were available today, to offer my dear brother-in-law your condolences. But, if you don’t mind, he really should be out there with us. It is his father’s funeral, after all.”
“Lower your voice.” David kept his tone hushed, but unequivocal, knowing Margaret only responded to equal strength. “You don’t want to make a scene.”
“And why should I care when you so obviously don’t?” she snipped.
His brother Daniel appeared, looking apologetic even as he placed a hand on his glowering wife’s shoulder.
“Margaret, please.”
David’s brother was taller and broader than he, but Margaret shook him off as if he were an insignificant gnat.
“No. He doesn’t get to hide in here doing God knows what with God knows whom”—her unforgiving gaze stayed on Ephie, and David urged her behind him, his hand pressed to her hip—“while we’re out there greeting every damn resident of this godforsaken town.”
“You’re right, Margaret. I apologize. Just let me say goodbye to my friend. I’ll join you shortly.”
Margaret sputtered for a moment, but then turned on her heel and stalked across the room.
“Dan.” David grabbed his brother by the arm when it seemed he would follow his wife. “I am sorry. I just needed a moment, you know.”
“Please, David. I’m the last person you need to apologize to.” He gazed in the direction of his wife, who had grudgingly retaken her place next to the casket. “It’s my fault, really. I’ve told her so many horror stories.” He shook his head and looked at David. “The funny thing is…losing Dad…It’s made me realize how little of it had anything to do with this place.”
“I know.”
“It’s always been her, hasn’t it?”
“Yes,” David agreed with a nod.
“Have you ever wondered what might have happened if Dad had been a car salesman, instead?”
“Would she have stayed?”
Daniel nodded.
“I used to think about it all the time. But now…” Wondering what she thought of the cryptic conversation, David looked at Ephie only to be captivated by her sympathetic gaze. “If she’d really loved him…”
Like I love you. He swayed with the weight of the unbidden thought, and Ephie slipped her hand into his, an anchor in the storm. David gave her a grateful glance before forcing his attention to his brother. Daniel’s curious gaze shifted between the two of them.
“If she’d really loved him,” David repeated. “Nothing else would have mattered.”
“You’re right. It wouldn’t have.” He sighed and then gestured at the toe-tapping Margaret with a jerk of his thumb. “I’d better back over there.”
“Wait a minute, Dan. Let me introduce you.” With his hand in the small of her back, David drew Ephie forward to stand beside him. “Dan, this is Epiphany Jones. Eph, my brother, Daniel.”
“Hello, Daniel.”
Ephie’s hand disappeared into Daniel’s grasp, a gentle smile curving her lips as he pumped her arm up and down.
“Dan’s just fine. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Epiphany.”
“Oh please, Dan, Ephie.”
“All right, Ephie.” He let her go, his hand falling to his side as he gave Ephie an earnest look. “I hope you won’t judge Meg too harshly.”
“Ephie’s not one to judge,” David interjected.
She looked at him, surprised gratitude on her face.
“I can only imagine how difficult this is for you,” she told Daniel. “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Daniel peered at Ephie closely, and David could tell he wanted to ask her something, but he simply shrugged. “I’m glad you’re here…for David.” Anxiously, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’d better get back.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be there in a minute, Dan.”
“Take your time.”
He winked at David before leaving them to take his place beside his wife. He and Ephie didn’t need to hear whatever it was she spat at Daniel through her thin-lipped smile to know it was unpleasant.
“But he’s so nice,” Ephie whispered.
“She’s not so bad.” He wound a finger around her pinkie, the two of them staring at the drama unfolding across the room. “She’s been good for Dan. She just really hates coming here. I can’t say I blame her.”
“But it’s his father’s funeral.”
David sighed.
“I know. She’s honestly much happier pretending Dan’s an orphaned only child and Briar Funeral Home doesn’t exist.”
Ephie looked up at him.
“But then wouldn’t she have to pretend you don’t exist?”
He nodded, the irony of it twisting his lips.
“She’s pretty good at that too.”
“But they’re your family.”
“What choice do I have? Like I said, she’s good for Dan.” He glanced across the room and saw Margaret had finished haranguing her husband and returned to glowering at him. “I’d better get back.” He turned to her, taking her hands in his and gathering the tangle of their fingers to his chest. “Thank you. You can’t imagine what it’s meant to me to have you here, even just for a little while.”
She smiled at him, disentangling her hands from his and placing her palms flat on his chest.
“Go.” She gave him a little push. “Do what you need to do. We’ll talk later.”
Chapter 25
THE achingly familiar timbre and cadence of David’s voice drifted over Ephie, acting like a lullaby. She closed her eyes and let her head loll to the side until it rested in the cleft of the wingback chair on which she sat.
She’d been waiting for hours, watching mourners arrive and, after a time, depart in whispering pairs and trios. While David had said goodbye to his brother and sister-in-law in the foyer, Ephie had made herself scarce, straightening chairs and picking up stray paper coffee cups and misplaced programs in the great room. The sound of approaching footsteps had chased her away, but she’d watched from the doorway of the adjoining room as David had bent over his father’s body, caressing the older man’s face before closing the lid. She’d turned away, tears stinging her eyes.
Griffin had been right; she was in love with David. Part of her suspected she had been from the very start. As if her psyche, unable to accept love at first sight, had perverted it into crude lust.
Ephie had no illusion telling David would have any meaningful effect on him. The man had been emotionally isolated for so long, perhaps too long. But in those sublime moments in the hidden alcove when she’d held him in her arms, she’d begun to hope. Naked and raw with emotion, he’d found the courage to share his grief with her. Ephie had no idea if David would ever allow himself to love. But tonight, of all nights, she wanted him to know he was worthy of it.
“You look beat, David. Why don’t you call it a night?”
“I will, John. I just wanted to straighten up for tomorrow.”
“Everythin
g’s in good shape. Looks like someone went through already. I thought maybe Meg…”
David gave a short laugh. “I doubt it, but I suppose it’s possible.”
“Anyway, it just needs a quick vacuum. I’ll take care of it and then lock up. You go on ahead.”
“All right, I think I will. Thank you, John, for all of your help today, and well, everything.”
“It’s been an honor, David. Truly. You know, your father taught me everything I know.”
“Yeah, me too.”
A succession of muted claps evoked a masculine hug.
“Get some sleep, David.”
“You too, John.”
Ephie prepared to stand, but had gotten only to the edge of the seat when David appeared in the doorway. He froze when he saw her, shock plain on his face. The vacuum droned to life next door as he opened his mouth, and Ephie shook her head. Getting to her feet, she went to him and took his hand in hers. And then she tugged him from the room.
When they entered the foyer, she led him toward the stairs, David following meekly behind. As they navigated the landing, she glanced back at him. His brows remained high with surprise, but his eyes held a guarded curiosity. Confident he’d hear her out, Ephie faced forward with determination.
At the top of the stairs, she stepped aside while he unlocked and opened the door. Ever the gentleman, he indicated for her to precede him. She crossed the threshold, her eyes automatically searching out the desk where she’d been introduced to the reality of David, the flesh-and-blood man more vivid and exciting than anything her paltry imagination had ever conjured. At the quiet click of the door, Ephie turned and caught him staring. She wondered if he too remembered the frantic intensity of their first time. As if in answer, he exhaled heavily.
“Would you like to go into the living room?”
“Yes.”
She bit the inside of her cheek at his quick and definitive assent. Oh. He remembered. Without comment, she took his hand and led him through the kitchen, bringing their convoy of two to a halt in front of the large leather sofa in the living room. Looking up at his befuddled expression, she smiled.
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