“I’m looking for my sister, Iris,” Daisy told the security guard at the gate when she arrived.
The uniformed guard gave them a welcoming smile. “Ms. Templeton-Hayes is in the main house. A wine shipment was delivered earlier today and she’s doing an inventory in the wine cellar.”
Daisy was disappointed to learn that the inventory taking place was in the main house instead of the auction barns. “Great,” Daisy grumbled dispiritedly after the guard waved them through.
Jack slanted her a curious look as he parked in front of the house.
“I just hate that cellar,” Daisy explained. “I got locked in one of the rooms down there during a Halloween party when I was six.”
Daisy drew a deep, bolstering breath. “I know it’s foolish, but I’m always afraid I’m going to get locked in one of the rooms downstairs again. They supposedly completely redid the cellar a few years ago, but when I dream about it I always remember the way it was when I was a kid,” Daisy said as she used her key to let them into the mansion. “It was really creepy. Kind of dark and musty and cold and it had this old mildew smell.” Doing her best to shake off the unpleasant memories Daisy led the way back to the kitchen and into the huge butler’s pantry. At the rear of the large room, filled with stainless-steel racks and shelves, was the door to the cellar. As Daisy neared it, a wave of nausea hit her, followed swiftly by an answering unsteadiness in her knees. Here they went again.
“You don’t have to go down there if you don’t want to,” Jack said.
“No, I want to go.” Daisy swallowed hard. She was being ridiculous. With Jack next to her, and Iris already down there, there wasn’t a possibility in the world she was going to get trapped in one of the rooms. She was not going to be a baby about this. Deliberately, Daisy shook off her unease. Trembling slightly, she forced herself to go through the open door and into the brightly lit basement.
The warped splintering staircase Daisy recalled had been replaced, the concrete walls covered in the same elegant rose brick that was on the exterior of the mansion. It looked as if the concrete floor had been redone, too, and painted a pretty, dark gray, she noted as she descended the stairs. There were rows of canned goods, cleaning supplies, fresh linens on neatly arranged shelves. Beyond that, a long hall and another series of doors. As Daisy started in the direction she guessed the wine cellar was located, she felt sick again. Almost dizzy with a combination of panic and—revulsion. This time, Jack caught her arm and brought her close. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he asked again, “Are you remembering anything else?”
“No.” But it was right there, playing on the edges of her memory.
Daisy gulped as footsteps came around the corner. Iris was dressed in business clothes and had a PalmPilot in her hand. It was clear from the look on her face she had overheard what they were saying. “What’s going on?” she asked, warily.
“Daisy’s been having nightmares about the time she got locked in a room down here.”
Knowing she needed to sit down, Daisy groped her way to a low bench that ran along one wall and sank onto it.
Iris looked at Jack as if they were the only two grown-ups in the room, then turned back to Daisy. “Why would you be having nightmares about that now? It happened years ago.”
“I don’t know.” Daisy was getting tired of explaining her weird behavior when it came to this place, and her fuzzy, unpleasant memories of it. She shuddered and rubbed her arms to ward off the chill that had descended upon her. “I guess getting trapped down here really scared me. And that fear is still there, buried in my psyche, or something.” Because it keeps resurfacing.
“In Daisy’s dream, there’s a faceless, nameless person in a costume or a mask or something.” Jack looked to Iris for an explanation.
Iris looked at Daisy, really concerned now. “Who is it?” she asked.
Had there been some sort of abuse, or attempted abuse? Did Iris know about it?
“I don’t know,” Daisy shrugged and explained how the person in her dreams kept telling her to be quiet or he’d have to hurt her. Daisy rubbed at the tension building in her temples. “It’s all sort of vague and weird and scary.” Although, since she had been married to Jack, the dreams had become more distinct. It was almost as if it was safe to remember now that she was married.
“Well, nothing like that happened,” Iris said, looking piqued at all the talk about something that had happened so very long ago. “I was with Mother when we found you. You were absolutely hysterical, but you were also quite alone and unharmed. Mother did scold you, of course. We had a vermin problem here that October and we didn’t want any of you children playing down here during the Halloween party, period. And you and the other children knew the basement was off-limits, which is why I think you probably came down here to hide, because you knew you wouldn’t be found by any of the other children. And hence, would win the game.”
That sounded about right, Daisy thought. She had always liked to win. Although after that episode she had never played hide-and-seek again. And never liked closed, locked, dark, cold, musty spaces, either.
“How long was Daisy down here?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know.” Iris shrugged. “Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. A group of kids were playing hide-and-seek and it took that long for us to determine you were missing.”
“Were any of the grown-ups in costume that evening?” Jack continued his interrogation on Daisy’s behalf.
“No. Just the children. And none of them had scary masks, either. Mother forbade it. Children of that age sometimes get easily spooked, even when they know it’s Halloween and everyone is wearing costumes.”
No joke, Daisy thought. Feeling better, she stood and found her legs would hold her after all.
“What brought you two out here?” Iris asked.
Jack explained about the break-in, what had been taken, as the color slowly left Iris’s face.
“Did Bucky Jerome have anything to do with that?” Iris asked, immediately jumping to the same initial conclusion Daisy and Jack had.
“He says not,” Jack replied.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Iris said, sitting down on the bench Daisy had just vacated.
“Not really,” Daisy put in as she paced to the wine room and back, looking around thoughtfully as she went, “since we don’t know who’s in possession of the information that was stolen from me. Bucky thinks the break-in may have something to do with an auburn-haired woman he saw at the shop giving you a hard time a couple of weeks ago. He thinks she might have it in for the Templetons. And Jack and I agree because the same woman was loitering outside our beach house, one evening, earlier this week.”
“She bothered you?”
“No. She left before she said anything. But the encounter gave me a weird feeling…” Daisy paused. “So I wondered—Jack and I both did—if you might know the woman’s name, or anything about what might be ticking her off about us.”
For a second, Iris froze, then, still looking a little pale, she slowly shook her head. “No. Although it could be a disgruntled customer, but I usually do what needs to be done to make things right if someone is unhappy, so I don’t think that would be it, but I’ll check my records anyway.”
“Thanks,” Daisy said. “We’d really like a name because then Jack and I could go talk to her.”
Iris nodded, her expression deadly serious. “In the meantime, I’ll talk to Father and ask him if he knows who might have broken into your home and stolen those documents, and then I’ll alert our family attorneys to the situation—they’ll know what to do. Theft and blackmail are against the law. Once people understand we’re not going to be taken advantage of that way, and will in fact happily put them in jail for extortion, they’ll hand over the damaging information rather than try and use it. In the meantime—” Iris looked at Jack and Daisy steadily “—it sounds like the two of you are really going to have to be careful.”
“Your home hasn’t been broken into, the
n?” Daisy asked Iris. Was it only she who attracted so much trouble?
“No. And neither has Mother and Father’s,” Iris retorted, standing once again. “But then we both have state-of-the-art security systems.” Iris looked at the two of them sternly. “Really, Daisy, you and Jack should consider investing in the same.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TOM WASN’T SURE what to expect when he stopped to pick up a bottle of wine and headed over to his ex-wife’s rented town house for dinner. To his relief, Grace looked serenely happy when she opened the door and ushered him into the historic home. Built with only two rooms downstairs, located right behind each other, hence the name single house, and two rooms up, the abode was luxuriously appointed and cozy, and perfect for Grace.
Instead of her signature tunic-and-slacks set, she was wearing a long hyacinth-colored skirt and matching sleeveless top in a whisper-soft fabric that clung gently to her slender, womanly curves, and made her look both very feminine and very beautiful. He inhaled the familiar scent of her Chanel N05 as he stepped inside and handed her the bottle of wine. “We’re going to be in the sitting room upstairs. I hope that’s all right with you,” Grace said, bypassing the more formal rooms downstairs for the coziness of the upstairs room.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Grace,” Tom said when he walked in and saw the table set with flowers, fine china and a sumptuous dinner for two. On an antique marble-topped buffet, there were several warmers and a salad ready to toss.
“Don’t worry,” Grace teased him, alluding to her notorious lack of cooking skills. “I had our meal catered.”
Tom grinned. “I wouldn’t have minded if you had cooked.” He would eat her burnt offerings anytime.
Grace indicated Tom should sit down on the sofa opposite the table. “Thank you, but I’m going to need a lot more practice before I subject anyone to my poor attempts again. Although, I must say,” Grace continued with a smile, “the daily lessons I’m getting on my new television show are helping me understand a lot more about the culinary arts.” She picked up the bottle of his favorite Pinot Noir she had already opened. “Care for a glass of wine?”
Tom nodded, touched she would have remembered that and helped himself to one of the appetizers on the coffee table in front of him. “Please.”
“So, tell me about what’s going on with you and Daisy now.” Grace slipped off her sandals and sank down beside him on the sofa, curling her legs up under her and smoothing out her skirt. Grace’s eyes were serious. “I noticed she avoided you today.”
Tom sighed, knowing that was an understatement and then some. He also knew he needed to talk to someone, and there was no one who had ever understood him better than Grace. Tom helped himself to a stuffed mushroom, another of his absolute favorites. “That’s probably because of the conversation we had last night. I let her know that now the DNA tests are in, and we know she’s definitely my child, I am setting up a trust for her equal to that of our children. And that I want a relationship with her. Albeit one conducted under certain public and private parameters, to avoid creating a scandal.”
Grace’s eyes were as filled with sympathy as he had hoped they would be. “I’m guessing Daisy wasn’t happy with that arrangement?”
“No.” Tom grimaced in frustration.
“She wants to be equal to our children in all respects,” Grace surmised. Looking, Tom thought, surprisingly empathetic toward Daisy’s feelings.
Tom sipped his wine, aware Grace needed to be apprised of the situation, even if it upset her again, as talk like this usually eventually did. He looked at Grace earnestly. “I think Daisy wants all the family secrets out in the open, but I told her that just isn’t going to happen. It’s going to be hard enough for her and me to repair the damage that has been done without being in the public eye at the same time. We have a lot of fence-mending to do. That won’t be possible if the tabloids get involved.”
To Tom’s relief, Grace seemed to understand. “That must be a comfort, to finally know for certain that Daisy is your child and be able to deal with it.”
It would have been a lot better had Grace been with him, Tom thought. She had so much love to give. She was such a good mother. She always knew the right thing to say and do, whereas he… He, too often, simply relied on Grace to speak for both of them, and tell their children what was in both their hearts. Aware Grace was still waiting for his reaction, Tom nodded, “It is a relief, you’re right, to finally be able to deal.”
Grace covered his hand with hers. “For me, too, Tom. We skirted that issue for too many years, thinking all the while we were doing what was best, but all we did was rob you of your chance to be a father to Daisy and put an unbearable strain on our marriage, trying to keep that secret. The irony, of course—” Grace let go of his hand, sat back and sipped her wine “—was that our marriage ended anyway. Probably because of the lies, as much as the actual infidelity.”
Tom regarded his ex-wife with respect. “You seem to have come to terms with it.”
Grace’s lips curved in a rueful smile. “And I have Daisy to thank for that. Working with her, having to be around her, has been a revelation. One I wish I’d had much sooner. She’s a wonderful young woman, Tom. Smart and talented. Not afraid to speak her mind or face her demons. I admire her for that.”
“So do I.” Tom looked into his glass, his sense of personal failure increasing exponentially with every second that passed. “I just wish I had been able to give her what she needs.”
Grace helped herself to a stuffed mushroom and handed him one, too. “Why don’t you tell everyone you’re her father?”
Tom set his wineglass down on the coffee table in front of them. “Because if I did that, it wouldn’t be fair to you, Grace. Because it would unleash the hounds of hell on your tail as every tabloid reporter in the Western Hemisphere try to figure out who her mother is.” Because then they would know who Tom’s lover had been, and wouldn’t that be a scandal.
Grace frowned, and looked at Tom as if her heart went out to him for the predicament he was in. “Iris still won’t claim her?” Grace ascertained.
“No.” Tom finished one appetizer and helped himself to another. “She’s firm on that. And I know that hurts Daisy, too.”
Grace sipped her wine, then pointed out thoughtfully, “You and Iris may not have a choice if those documents that were stolen from Daisy are made public.”
“I know.” Guilt filled Tom anew.
Grace shot him an imploring look. “So why not take control of the situation and tell everyone that you’re Daisy’s father, and she’s your daughter, and you couldn’t be prouder?”
Tom stared at Grace in amazement as the sentiment behind her words slowly sank in. “You’d really stand up with me and do that?”
“I’ll go you one better.” Grace smiled, all warm, willing woman. “I’ll help throw the party where we announce it, although we’ll have to have it at your house. My place here isn’t nearly big enough. I just think we should do it soon before it’s done for us.”
Tom liked the way his ex thought. “What about Iris?” he asked, knowing there could still be troubled seas ahead.
Grace lifted her slender shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I suggest you tell Iris what you and I are going to do and let Iris make her own decision. It will probably eventually come out anyway. Hopefully Iris will make the right decision, but even if she doesn’t, the truth will one day be known. And won’t that be a relief?” Grace asked him seriously but happily. “To end all these secrets and lies? To be able to tell people what went wrong with our marriage, as well as how we plan to make it right.”
“In regard to Daisy,” Tom ascertained, wary of reading too much into Grace’s long hoped-for change of heart. He didn’t want to fool himself into thinking resolving the Daisy situation might mean a reconciliation between him and Grace, because experience had shown him time and time again that it was never that simple or easy between the two of them.
&n
bsp; “In regard to a lot of things,” Grace corrected, looking him straight in the eye, seeming, for one long moment, to be promising Tom a lot more than simple friendship.
“Now, about this party we’re going to have.” Oblivious to the thundering of Tom’s heart and the rush of blood in his loins, Grace smiled. “It’s going to take me a few days to pull everything together in terms of caterers and invitations and music and everything. So what do you say we work on the plans as soon as we finish dinner?”
CHARLOTTE WALKED into the political fund-raiser at the Mills House Hotel in downtown Charleston. The president was slated to attend in support of his party’s candidate for the U.S. Senate, and everyone who was anyone in Charleston was there for the ten-thousand-dollar-a-plate predinner cocktail hour and private reception—except her husband.
No sooner had Charlotte pinned on her name tag and accepted a glass of champagne than their old friend, Peyton Heyward, approached her. Peyton had recently agreed to merge family shipping companies with Tom Deveraux. Charlotte had heard it was because Peyton had been looking to cut back his hours somewhat, as well as pass the company on to his daughter, Lauren, a real estate broker who specialized in historic properties, and had no interest in the shipping business, and Peyton’s new son-in-law, Mitch Deveraux, who did.
“Charlotte, you look wonderful this evening!” Peyton kissed her cheek.
“Thank you, Peyton.” Charlotte was glad someone appreciated her new sapphire-blue silk dress. Richard hadn’t.
“So do you.” At fifty-eight, the successful executive was in fine shape for a man his age. His blond hair was streaked with silver, his brown eyes warm and kind behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
“Where’s Richard?” Peyton stepped up to the bar and bypassed champagne in favor of seltzer water with lime.
Charlotte sipped her champagne, wishing all the while her husband could be half as attentive as the widowed Peyton. “Richard stayed home this evening,” she confessed regretfully. “He wasn’t feeling well.”
The Heiress Page 34