by Margaret Way
She might have been laying down a challenge. “I want you to stay,” he said.
A WOMAN IN RIDING DRESS, cream silk shirt, beige jodhpurs, polished boots, stood on the first landing of the finely joined cedar staircase that ran to the left of the spacious entrance hall. Tiny and dolllike, she had large dark eyes and hair black and sleek as ebony wrapped around her head in a braid.
Callista McClelland.
Nicole looked at her, apprehensive despite herself. Even at that distance she could sense the lack of welcome. “Miss McClelland!” She didn’t forget to sound respectful. There had never been a time in her life she hadn’t addressed Callista formally. Callista McClelland was that sort of person. Meeting her was like being on the receiving end of a jug of ice water.
“Nicole, so you’re here.” Callista seemed to have a struggle finding words. Nevertheless, she continued gracefully down the stairs, extending her small hand as if it demanded a deferential kiss rather than be shaken. “How are you settling into being home?”
Dark, thickly lashed eyes, glittering like metal, drilled into Nicole.
“As if I’d never been away.” Nicole accepted the cool, dry hand that was offered, finding the touch unwelcome, even embarrassing, given the hostility she had encountered from Callista during her childhood and adolescence. “How are you?”
“Oh, much the same, Nicole, though I see you’re even more like your mother.”
Well, she hadn’t expected Callista to envelop her in a hug, had she? “In looks, perhaps,” Nicole said pleasantly. “I have my own identity. My father doesn’t even agree about the looks. He says apart from the coloring there are differences.”
“Only he can see.” Callista gave a cool little smile. “You must be furious he’s back on Eden.”
Nicole, who had labored all her life to feel affection for Heath Cavanagh, now felt positively filial. “Let me say I hope you’re not, Miss McClelland. I simply don’t have the heart to be furious. He’s a very sick man.”
“Ah well, at least he’s had a life.” The bitterness spurted like a geyser, for all Callista’s attempt at civility.
“Callista, please.” Drake lifted a staying hand, his handsome features tightening in protest.
“Forgive me, dear.” Callista’s smooth cheeks colored. She laid a conciliatory hand on his sleeve. “Sometimes my feelings get the better of me. I know you said it’s important we all be friends.” She turned her head to smile bravely at Nicole. “Let me show you to your room, Nicole. I know you’ll like it. It faces the garden. And please, do call me Callista. Miss McClelland makes me feel quite ancient.”
“When you look ridiculously young,” Nicole said.
“I try to look after myself,” Callista replied, dismissing her amazingly youthful good looks as if she had far more important issues to consider.
The truth probably was that Callista McClelland in her mid-forties didn’t want to grow old, Nicole thought. She steeled herself to follow the woman up the stairs.
“Would you like coffee, Nicole?” Drake called after her.
“Lovely.” She paused to look back at him. Why was she really here? To suit his ambitions? However wary she felt, her heart gave an involuntary buck at the sight of him. He was a marvelous-looking man; one arm leaning on the banister, those vivid chiseled features, eyes glimmering against his tanned skin, little flames at their center.
Beware, Nicole. Be very careful around this man. Don’t fall under his spell. It would be so easy.
“Settle in, then I’ll take you on a tour of the house,” he promised.
“I’m looking forward to it. Everything looks great.”
“Callista must take the credit for that.”
“I do it out of love, darling,” Callista said smugly. “I was very privileged to grow up in a beautiful house. I can’t imagine how I’ll cope when you marry, Drake, and I’m no longer chatelaine.”
Now there’s a thought! Nicole wondered if the future Mrs. Drake McClelland should be warned.
The bedroom was large, bright and airy, a mix of modern and antique pieces, the color scheme sunshine yellow and pristine white. Two lovely flower paintings decorated the walls. A nice change from the over-the-top sumptuous bedroom Siggy’s decorator had created for her, Nicole thought in relief. Sunlight streamed in across the broad veranda, giving the room a welcoming glow. On a small console table that held a charming silver-gilt bust of a young girl was a bowl filled with lilies and trails of a silver-gray native vine. Nicole approached and touched a white petal. “How lovely! Your arrangement?”
“Of course. Arranging flowers is quite beyond Annie.” Callista dismissed Kooltar’s housekeeper’s creative abilities with a wave of her hand. “I love beautiful things. I had the flower paintings hung in here. I hope you enjoy them.”
“French.” Nicole moved closer. “I’d say that one is by Jacques-Emile Blanche.” She was too far away to read the signature. “The other—”
Callista butted in, apparently not pleased by Nicole’s ability to identify the works of famous artists. “Louis Gaillard. Signed and dated 1888. You’re right, the other is a Blanche. I forgot you were an artist.”
“Am an artist, Callista. I still paint.” Nicole sent Callista one of her own looks of feigned sweetness. “I’ve had two successful showings in New York. As tough an art scene as you’ll find. But I don’t paint beautiful flowers like these.”
“What do you paint?” Callista’s eyes gleamed with an odd challenge.
“Journeys of my mind.” Nicole’s mouth twisted a little as she said it. “Visions.”
“I take it they’re not happy paintings full of light?”
“Some of them, in fact, are rather monstrous, but certain people lock into the emotion. They sell. Every trace of cheerfulness was knocked out of me years ago.”
“You still see a psychiatrist?” Callista looked at her guest with anything but sympathy.
“Not for a long time, but it’s helpful to sit on a couch and have a highly trained professional listen to your problems. I credit Dr. Rosendahl with helping me to face life. I’ll always be grateful to him. Actually I’d like to see him now that I’m home. Perhaps I’ll invite him to Eden if he has the time.”
Something flickered in Callista’s metallic gaze. “Unfortunately for him, he has all the time in the world. Don’t you know, Nicole? Rosendahl is dead. He was killed in a hit-and-run accident leaving his Sydney office.”
Shock blocked Nicole’s throat. She could see the doctor’s kindly distinguished face as clearly as if he stood before her. “No one told me.”
“Your aunt should have known.” Callista shrugged. “It was in the papers. We do manage to get them, if a bit late.”
“When was this?” Nicole felt sick.
“Oh, six or eight months ago. It was a small item. I expect Sigrid missed it, or else she didn’t want to upset you. I mean, you can’t have many emotional resources.”
Briefly Nicole debated how best to answer. Spirit won out. “On the contrary, I think I’ve met the challenge of facing up to my daunting past, Callista. What about you? Have you successfully mastered your pain?”
Callista bristled. “Never. I’m a woman who feels very deeply.” She gripped her throat in a dramatic gesture that struck Nicole as playacting. Callista was the perennial young girl trapped in a middle-aged woman’s body.
“So what you’re saying is you wish to cling to the unhappy past?”
Dislike was written all over Callista’s unlined face. “Don’t be so naive, Nicole. The past is always with us. We can’t just shed it.”
“You don’t want me here, do you?” Nicole spoke quietly, prepared for Callista’s reaction.
“Why so melodramatic? This is Drake’s house. He invites whom he pleases. I would never go against him. You and I can work something out between us. We’re both adults, but you know as well as I do we can never be close. You are your mother’s daughter. You even have her voice. Extraordinary thing, genetics. Because
of Corrinne I suffered a terrible loss.”
Nicole looked back urgently. “I know that and I’m deeply sorry. But I know all about loss, too. It makes me want to weep. The difference could be I’m trying to deal with it. Feeling such terrible resentments can only be a burden to you, Callista. Don’t you want to lay them down?”
Callista’s dark eyes were unblinking. “Then I’d be breaking my emotional connection with my brother. I adored him.”
Nicole lowered her head. “I acknowledge that, but he’s gone beyond human adoring, Callista. He’s passed on.”
“Which doesn’t mean I won’t see him again.” Callista hugged her body tightly. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Why not? Can’t you allow my heart is broken, too? In my case, it was a mother.” She turned away to compose herself. “I think we should stop there, don’t you? Before anything else is said.”
“I agree. Life is hard. It really doesn’t matter, anyway. Soon you’ll go back to New York, get on with your life, as will I. Of course, I may have to rethink my situation after Drake marries.”
“You think he has someone in mind?”
“My dear, it’s an open secret. Karen Stirling. You know her. Lovely girl! Simply stunning. We get on extremely well. We have long talks when she visits.”
“Does she have this beautiful room?”
“No.” Callista gave a highly suggestive little laugh. “She prefers to be closer to Drake, if you follow my meaning. I expect they’ll announce their engagement very soon.”
“That’s curious. Drake didn’t mention a word about any engagement. I imagine a man on the brink of proposing to the woman he loves would want to tell the world.”
Callista ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the little antique writing table. “Even as a child you thought Drake was your property.” Her smile was nastiness in full flight.
“We were friends, Callista. We hope to be friends again. Forgive me, Callista, but I can’t think Drake is truly in love with Karen. I do remember her as warm and friendly. Perhaps you simply want him to be.”
Callista’s exhalation was sharp. “I knew it would be impossible for us to have a normal conversation. You’re like your mother. One of those women who can’t let a man go. Possessive to the end. Make no mistake—Drake is serious about Karen. He wants to marry a woman of good family, not someone with a tainted past.” She spat out the words, choking with the bitterness she didn’t seem able to transcend.
“You never let go, do you?” Nicole retorted. “Well, better to have it out in the open, I suppose. I’ve only stepped across your threshold and already I’m a threat. Would you be brave enough to repeat the ‘tainted past’ bit in front of Drake, I wonder?”
Callista closed her eyes briefly, holding a hand to her throat. “I’d deny I said it. You might remember, my nephew is very loyal to me. I’ve devoted my life to him.”
“Forgive me, but it seems you’ve devoted your life to your own private hell. I don’t appreciate being told I’m a member of a tainted family, Callista.”
“I didn’t say that.” Callista backed off.
“But you did. Please don’t underestimate me. I’m no longer a child you can taunt and push over the edge. I’m a woman. I’ve taken my life in hand. I’m only here for a visit. I don’t want unpleasantness. We can be civil to each other, surely?”
“Why not?” Callista gave a peculiar laugh. “I’ve found I can do anything if I put my mind to it.”
Nicole didn’t doubt it. Unbidden came the sickening image of her mother’s battered body sprawled over a desert boulder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CALLISTA EXCUSED herself from sharing coffee, saying it was time for her afternoon ride.
“I’m sure you have lots to catch up on!” She bestowed a gleaming smile on Nicole. She had small white pearly teeth she was obviously careful to look after.
Round one to Callista. Nicole had long since learned that Callista chose her moments to release her venom.
“Enjoy yourself,” Nicole called cheerily, not to be outdone.
All would have gone according to plan had the housekeeper, Annie Prentice, not picked that particular moment to enter the garden room carrying a laden tray.
“Here, let me take that from you,” Nicole offered, rising. Annie was of the same vintage as Dot.
The housekeeper, whose eyes had been on the tray, looked up to respond.
When she saw Nicole, she let out a disbelieving wail, and the tray fell from her hands.
Such clumsiness might have happened on a regular basis, given Callista’s furious response. “Watch out!” she cried, moving as deftly as a prima ballerina out of harm’s way. The coffeepot went over, splashing hot liquid all over the tray and onto the floor. Big spatters reached Nicole’s legs, mercifully protected by her blue cotton slacks, but for seconds she keenly felt the heat. The two coffee cups and saucers flew through the air to crash on the unyielding terra-cotta floor tiles.
“Annie, I’d have sworn you could handle just about anything!” Drake shook his dark head in mock amazement. “But I’ll need a double brandy after that.”
“I’m so sorry.” The housekeeper was the picture of despair, shoulders shaking, tears in her eyes as if she’d just pulled out of a triathlon.
“Settle down, Annie. No real harm done,” Drake soothed. “What about you, Nicole? That coffee was hot. Did it burn you?”
Her legs were smarting a little. “I’m fine. I’ll pop upstairs and change in a minute.” She looked at the housekeeper with a sympathetic smile. “Did I startle you, Annie?” Hadn’t she shocked the Barretts when they’d first caught sight of her?
Annie, a sturdy woman, put a hand to the comfort of her large bosom. “For a minute there, I thought you was a ghost. What was I going to do?”
“Turn and run?” Drake asked thoughtfully.
“Then I realized, it’s you, Miss Nicole, all grown up.”
“How are you, Annie?” Nicole’s smile widened.
Whatever Annie’s answer was to be, Callista wasn’t in the mood to hear it. “Don’t just stand there gawping, Annie. Clean this mess up.”
Whatever happened to niceness? Nicole wondered, resenting Callista’s attitude on Annie’s behalf.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m on my way.”
Annie seemed to have all the attributes of that dying breed the faithful retainer.
“Take your time, Annie,” Drake said, coming to the besieged housekeeper’s defense. “You’re out of breath.”
“Shock, sir, and my rackety old ticker. Miss Nicole is the spitting image of her mother, that beautiful creature. I’m just horrified I dropped the tray. I wasn’t prepared.”
Again Callista displayed her anger and impatience. “Okay, so you were surprised, Annie. Nicole is the image of her mother. Would you please clean this up and make fresh coffee? Leave that, Nicole.” She eyed Nicole, who was busy picking up the broken pieces of fine china, with disapproval. “Annie will attend to that. It needs a dustpan and brush.”
“I’ve got most of it, anyway,” Nicole said mildly, thinking she wouldn’t speak to a feral camel the way Callista was speaking to the housekeeper. “I’ll change out of these slacks. Won’t be long.”
“Let me have them and I’ll make sure there’s no stain,” Annie called after her.
Nicole turned. “I’d appreciate that, Annie. I’m not exactly sure what you use to treat coffee stains.”
“I do,” Annie responded with relief. “I’m so sorry, dear.”
“We’re all agreed you’re sorry, Annie,” Callista said in the same sharp voice. “Go get the mop,” she ordered. “You’ve broken the set. Those coffee cups are very expensive.”
It was a wonder she didn’t say she was going to deduct the cost from Annie’s wages, Nicole thought, moving off.
Pausing on the stairs—she overheard Callista say crossly it was high time they traded Annie in.
Oh, well, why bother about loyalty? Nicole stood stoc
k-still waiting for Drake’s reply. If he agreed with his absolutely awful aunt, she’d be back on Eden before midafternoon.
Mercifully his answer came with calm authority. “Annie stays, Callista. I’m not about to lower the boom on her. She’s always been a good worker and very loyal. You shouldn’t have been so harsh with her.”
“If you ask me, her shock at seeing Nicole was far less than mine,” Callista answered. “I wonder you can ignore this thing, Drake.”
“What thing?” Drake sounded exasperated.
“What a mistake it is having Nicole here.”
Nicole knew she should go on her way, but she didn’t want to miss anything. She gripped the banister with one hand. Obviously she hadn’t changed much since she was a child trying to catch the grown-ups’ hushed conversations.
“We’ve already discussed this, Cally,” Drake said in a voice that should have given his aunt pause. “Don’t fall apart on me. It’s my decision. I don’t like you to be upset, but I don’t answer to anybody.”
“But there’s a potential for trouble here, dear. More and more trouble.” Callista was back to her dramatic mode. “Can you blame me for worrying about you?”
“What hurt could Nicole inflict?” Drake’s tone was soft, but there was little doubt about the steel beneath it.
A long silence, then Callista’s tense reply. “We’ll see.”
Heed the warning, Drake, Nicole thought, shaking her head. Not a chance she could ever win over Callista.
IN HER BEDROOM she changed her coffee-stained slacks for a turquoise skirt printed with hibiscus. The garment was light and cool and went well with the white tank top she already wore.
I’ve only myself to blame for coming here. Siggy had warned her. So had Joel. Within a mere ten minutes of their meeting, Callista had revealed her hostility. Callista was a woman frozen in time. She had even made it clear to Drake she didn’t want Nicole on Kooltar. Not that Callista had much say. Drake would do exactly as he pleased. It shamed Nicole slightly to realize she’d only agreed to come because the thought of spending time alone with Drake was irresistible. Despite everything that had happened between their families, she found herself more drawn to him than to any other man she’d ever met. And she’d met quite a few through Carol, all of them interesting, attractive, eligible. Yet in so many ways, now as in the past, he was her ideal.