The Heiress

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The Heiress Page 3

by Cathy Gillen Thacker


  Grace shook her head, refusing his plea to stay, and at least try to work things out. She regarded him with a mixture of contempt and displeasure. “Daisy isn’t the only one who needs time to cool off.”

  GRACE KNEW she shouldn’t have walked out on Tom like that. She should have stayed and tried to work out a way to deal with this very explosive situation. Publicly, it could be disastrous, if word got out right now. She had a new TV show in the works. She didn’t need this kind of bad publicity in the wake of her firing from Rise and Shine, America!

  It had been bad enough going from one of the most watched women on morning television, from the coveted cohost position she had held for fifteen years, to being unemployed. But now this…

  Grace didn’t know if she could handle living in the same city with Tom again, if she had to confront his illegitimate child—and therefore his infidelity—day after day after day.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to forget and forgive.

  But that she couldn’t.

  Lord knew she had tried. But every time he had touched her or tried to kiss her or hold her, she’d ended up flashing back to the day she had found him making love with Iris. Every time she had run into Daisy, or Iris, or any member of the Templeton family, she had experienced the same sick feeling inside her. Along with the feeling that she would never be smart or sophisticated or sexy enough to hold Tom. Not in any real or lasting way. Because if Tom could cheat on her once, the practical side of Grace knew, he could cheat on her again. And eventually, after nearly nine years of trying to work things out, and failing, she had known their marriage had to end. So she’d told him she wanted a divorce. And, in the end, he’d had no choice but to give her what she wanted, because she wasn’t coming back, not to him, and not to his bed.

  Lately, of course, that had begun to change. In the wake of her job loss and public humiliation, she had flirted with the idea of trying again. Seeing if maybe she and Tom couldn’t find a way to work things out, to resurrect the love they had once shared. But now, with the resurgence of Daisy in their lives—as his illegitimate daughter no less—she knew she had just been fooling herself. She had to move on. Put him out of her heart and mind forever. And there was only one way, Grace knew, that she would ever be able to do that.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DAISY COULDN’T BELIEVE Jack Granger was still following her. It had been nearly two hours, and he was still on her tail. She’d been all over Charleston, out to Sullivan’s Island, Kiawah and back to Folly Beach and he was still right behind her in his black SUV, trailing her around the countryside. Not that she cared much one way or another, Daisy told herself as she drove past several rural churches, which were dark and silent that time of night, and into the marshland that comprised much of the island. Ignoring the turnoff for a summer camp, she drove past several large farms and a tomato-packing shed, thought briefly about stopping in at a down and dirty-looking honky-tonk just to see what Tom Deveraux’s “henchman,” Jack Granger, might do about that, and then continued cruising toward the center of the island.

  Sooner or later, Daisy told herself as the warm ocean air blew in through her open driver-side window, caressing her body and ruffling her hair, Jack Granger had to get bored or give up and go home. Go back to her uncaring and irresponsible birth father. Something. Anything. So she could go unencumbered where she was really headed for that night. Because right now all she wanted was to be alone. To try and deal. Not that that was going to be easy, either, she acknowledged with a beleaguered sigh. And that was when it happened. The bad day to end all days became even worse as her car began to sputter and shake.

  “I don’t believe it.” Daisy swore as her car came to a trembling halt on the side of the two-lane road. She looked at her dashboard, and saw the red light flashing the words Service Engine. Swearing even more passionately, Daisy tried to restart the car. There had to be a gas station around here somewhere. Otherwise she’d have to get a tow truck and another ride.

  Jack Granger pulled up behind her. He left his engine and lights on as he stepped out of the car and walked up to her window. He leaned down, like a policeman giving a ticket and rapped on the glass, his jacket off, tie loosened and shirtsleeves rolled up. “Problem?”

  She stared straight ahead. “Nothing I can’t handle. Now go away.”

  “Sorry.” He remained beside her, hands braced on his hips. “I can’t do that.”

  “Suit yourself.” Daisy tried once more to start her car, and then gave up. She took her keys out of the ignition, grabbed her purse, and deciding he could be responsible for getting himself out of her way, bolted out of the car.

  “I’ll give you a ride,” Jack said.

  “No.” Daisy tucked her purse under her arm and started walking in the direction she’d been headed.

  Jack caught her arm and swung her around to face him, his big strong body dwarfing her petite frame. His touch gentling ever so slightly, he regarded her impatiently. “Look, I know you’re a strong, independent woman and all that, but you can’t gallivant around here alone this late at night. It’s not safe.”

  Daisy surveyed the rumpled state of his sandy-blond hair, the evening beard lining his face, and knew he had to feel every bit in need of a long hot shower and a good night’s sleep as she did at that moment. Refusing to let him tell her what to do, or when to do it, she merely drawled, “Is that so.”

  Half his lips curved upward in a coaxing smile. He held his ground just as resolutely, promising kindly, “I’ll take you where you want to go.”

  Daisy sighed. The truth was, she was exhausted from the long flight home, the confrontations with Iris and Tom and the driving around aimlessly. Right now she wanted a safe, quiet place, and a bed to call her own. She didn’t want Jack Granger—or anyone else—knowing where she was, but she supposed at the moment anyway that couldn’t be helped. “Fine,” she said tersely. “Take me to Folly Beach and I’ll direct you from there.”

  “THERE” turned out to be a run-down lodge and a dozen or so private cottages in equally miserable shape. Jack knew Folly Beach had been devastated during a particularly bad hurricane some years back, and for a while few had vacationed there because of the huge amount of devastation, but that was once again changing. Expensive vacation homes were cropping up amidst the various businesses and year-round residences.

  Jack looked at the weathered buildings, with the unkempt grounds and peeling paint. “If it’s a hotel room you’re needing, we can do a lot better than this,” he said, surveying the faded sign that proclaimed it Paradise Resort. “Let me take you to one of the premium resorts or hotels.”

  Predictably, Daisy ignored his attempt to help her. “This’ll do just fine,” she said, her soft lips tightening mutinously as she disregarded his offer and slid out of the car. She slung her purse and camera around her neck, and picked up her red accordion file while Jack reluctantly got her wheeled suitcase out of the rear of his SUV. Taking it from him, she headed for the lodge, leaving Jack no choice but to follow. By the time Jack got inside the lobby, Daisy was already being greeted by a thirtyish woman in cutoffs and a T-shirt. Slender and dark-haired, with lively dark-brown eyes, she had a paint roller in her hand and pale-green paint streaked across one golden-skinned cheek. “Hey, Daisy. I didn’t expect you back so soon!” She paused to rip off a plastic painting glove and extend her hand to Jack. “I’m Kristy Neumeyer—I own this place.”

  “Jack Granger.” Jack took her hand and shook it warmly, his regard for the establishment being renovated becoming abruptly more positive. A little elbow grease and some tender loving care would go a long way to making Paradise Resort a top-notch vacation hideaway.

  Kristy turned back to Daisy, her pretty smile widening even more. “I thought you were staying in Europe indefinitely.” Kristy easily picked up her conversation with Daisy.

  “I’m back.” Daisy said, her weariness abruptly beginning to show. “And I need a place to stay tonight.” Daisy looked at Kristy, as if knowing
what a big favor she was asking, under the circumstances. “Can you rent me one of the cottages?”

  Kristy regarded Jack curiously, then turned back to Daisy. “Uh… Listen…I…none of the cottages are ready yet. In fact, they’re all in pretty dismal shape. As you can see, I haven’t even gotten the lobby painted.”

  “But you and your twins are living here,” Daisy protested.

  Kristy held up her hands with a helpless shrug. “Susie and Sally are eight. They just like being close to the beach, and being able to build sand castles and collect seashells every single day.”

  “Where are they now?” Jack asked.

  “Asleep for the night. Which leaves me free to resume my efforts to spruce up this place enough to get it open for business again. Hopefully, by October fifteenth. Meanwhile, I’m closed to guests.”

  “I just need a place to lay my head,” Daisy told Kristy persuasively. “If there’s a pillow and a mattress or even a floor, that’s really all I need.”

  Kristy studied Daisy. Understanding passed between them as Kristy realized how badly Daisy needed refuge. “Well, in that case…” Kristy stepped around the paint pan and roller and slipped behind the desk. She lifted a drop cloth, then came up with a key. “You can take cabin six. It’s at the other end.”

  “Thanks,” Daisy said gratefully.

  “Need help with your luggage?” Kristy asked.

  Daisy shook her head. She turned to Jack and offered him a tight you-can-get-lost-now-that-you’re-no-longer-useful smile. “See you around,” she said, grabbing the handle of her wheeled suitcase once again. And then she was gone.

  “SO DAISY CONFRONTED her biological father tonight, too,” Richard Templeton said shortly after midnight.

  Iris looked at her parents grimly, nodding. Richard and Charlotte had been at a charity function and were still in their evening clothes. As always they made a very striking couple. Both were slim and fit, blessed with elegant, aristocratic looks and an inordinate sense of style, but Iris couldn’t help but note, only her mother looked her age. Mostly because Charlotte refused to take advantage of the latest plastic surgery techniques or dye her chin-length silver hair. Richard, however, had no such compunction. He’d had not one—but two—face-lifts over the years and had been “keeping” his dark-brown hair that hue with regular visits to the salon. All Richard’s efforts to retain his youthful visage had paid off. Although Richard and Charlotte were both sixty-seven, Richard looked a good ten years younger than his wife. Iris knew that bothered her father, but her mother didn’t seem to care.

  Aware they were still waiting for her answer, Iris said, “Tom Deveraux called me half an hour ago and told me about the scene Daisy created at his home this evening.” Briefly, Iris explained about the family party Daisy had disrupted.

  Charlotte Templeton removed her diamond and sapphire necklace and earrings, and put them back in the case. “And you say Grace Deveraux was there, also?”

  “Yes.” Iris watched her father open the safe in the library and put the jewelry case carefully inside, with the others. “Apparently, Grace and the rest of the family were very upset.”

  Charlotte frowned, her resentment of the man who had turned her eldest child’s life upside down, evident. “I imagine they would be.”

  “Are the children going to tell anyone about this?” Richard demanded.

  “Tom made them swear to keep it quiet. Apparently, they all agreed. None of them want to endure the public humiliation of a scandal.”

  “That was decent of Grace,” Charlotte said.

  Because she was among family, Iris made no effort to hide her dislike of the woman the media had once dubbed America’s Sweetheart. “There was nothing noble about what she did. Grace Deveraux was protecting herself, as much as Daisy and Tom and the rest of their kids,” Iris countered. After all, it was Grace’s fault Iris and Tom had never married. If Grace hadn’t been determined to save her marriage—a marriage that had ultimately failed anyway—Iris could have told Tom about the pregnancy and gotten him to marry her. She would never have had to marry Randolph Hayes IV to get the cash to fill the Templeton-family coffers and save her family from public disgrace. She wouldn’t have had to pretend all these years that she was Daisy’s adopted sister instead of her mother. And best of all, Daisy would’ve been brought up by her real parents.

  “In any case, we need to talk to Daisy and make her see reason,” Richard said.

  “I agree. And as soon as we find her, I plan to do just that,” Iris said, hoping that by then Daisy would be more willing to listen to their side of things, and continue to keep quiet about what had happened in the past.

  “And you’re sure Daisy isn’t at your home?” Charlotte said, looking increasingly worried.

  “Consuela has instructions to keep her there, and call me on my cell, if she does show up. So far, nothing.” Iris hadn’t heard from her housekeeper. Which meant Daisy could be anywhere, doing anything.

  “What about Connor—has he seen her?” Richard asked, looking equally worried about what the unpredictable Daisy might do. They all knew Daisy was never more prone to act out than when hurting emotionally.

  “Not yet. But I called him and told him to be on the alert.” Iris paused. “We’re going to have to tell him what we’ve done, too.”

  “We’ll get to that,” Richard promised. “Not that we have anything to worry about when it comes to your brother. He knows how to see both sides of every issue, no matter how complex.”

  That was true, Iris knew. Connor was the peacemaker in the family. But even he would probably have trouble dealing with this. Not to mention the fact that he, too, had been lied to many times over the years.

  “We can’t let Daisy’s parentage become public knowledge,” Charlotte said. “It would ruin us socially, if people were to know just how we covered up your mistake.”

  Which was, Iris thought, part of the problem. Even after all these years, of loving and caring for her, her parents couldn’t quite forget how Daisy had come to be.

  Richard looked at Iris in disapproval. “This is your fault, you know. If you had let me instill more discipline in Daisy the way I did in you, Daisy would be following our orders without question instead of causing one episode after another.”

  Iris’s insides twisted as she recalled the unrelenting pressure she had received from her father when she was growing up. Richard felt then—as now—he had been helping her to be a better person. And to an extent he was right. His continual upbraiding had made her stronger. Strong enough to save her family by marrying a man years older than herself whom she had never loved or even liked, and still present a happy face to the world. Strong enough to take the family antiques business that Richard had nearly ruined with mismanagement and neglect and turn it into a profitable operation once again. Strong enough to find a way to be happy and content in her life despite all of that.

  But Daisy hadn’t needed to go through the same social and emotional regimentation she had. Iris had known that and taken steps to protect her, before giving her baby over to her parents to adopt and rear as their own. “That would have only made things worse,” Iris stated, knowing if she had done one good thing in her life, it had been to protect Daisy from being forced to select a mate and marry for money and social position rather than love. She hadn’t been able to keep her parents from cutting off all Daisy’s funds several weeks ago, but she still hoped—over time—to remedy that, too, and return Daisy to a position filled with choices, rather than one directed by an absence of funds.

  “So you’ve said,” Richard returned coolly. He walked to the bar and poured a healthy splash of bourbon into his glass. His expression grim, he regarded her steadily over the rim of his glass. “We’ll see if you still feel that way if that bastard child of yours ruins your reputation—and ours—in the community.”

  KRISTY HADN’T BEEN kidding when she said the place still needed an awful lot of work, Daisy thought as she let herself into cottage six and deposi
ted the stack of threadbare linens and hotel-size bar of soap on the water-marked table. The paint was peeling off the walls, rust stains coated the sink and the shower, and the bed—well, lumpy didn’t begin to describe it, Daisy thought, sitting down on the edge of the mattress to test it out. But it was a place to sleep that she could afford. It faced the ocean. Daisy didn’t know why, but sitting and watching the timeless motion of waves rolling onto sand always soothed her. And after the past couple of days, she needed soothing more than she could say. Sighing wearily, Daisy removed her fringed suede boots and socks, grabbed enough change for the soda machine located between the lodge and the cottages, and headed back outside. And that was when she saw Jack Granger checking in to the cottage beside hers.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She walked barefoot through the grass to confront him.

  “Same as you. Bunking down here for the night.” Jack took the hotel-size bar of soap and stack of threadbare linens Kristy had given him and put them inside cabin five.

  “Why?” Suddenly, Daisy was angry. Angrier than she had been the whole night.

  Jack removed a cheaply made Paradise Resort toothbrush and tiny bottle of shampoo from his shirt pocket and tossed them onto the stack. “I want to be nearby in case you need anything.”

  “Like what?” Daisy retorted, aware that the emotions she had successfully kept under control all evening were beginning to spiral out of control. Way out of control. “The truth?” Her pulse pounding harder with every second that passed, Daisy lingered in the open doorway of his cottage. She glared at Jack resentfully. She didn’t understand why she felt so betrayed by him. She just knew that she did. “You weren’t exactly instrumental in helping me get that in the weeks before I went to Switzerland.” Instead, he’d kept bumping into her, in a way that she now saw was anything but accidental. Kept striking up idle conversation, surreptitiously trying to get closer to her. Not because he was interested in her as a person, or her plight to uncover the mystery of her birth. But because he had been trying to subtly stay one step ahead of her while simultaneously running interference for his boss.

 

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