by Marta Perry
Allison was beginning to feel her back stiffen at the automatic assumption everyone seemed to make that she didn’t belong here. And how did he know she was an ambitious young professional, anyway? “What exactly are you proposing, Mr. Blackburn?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Naturally you’d like to gain a tangible profit from your inheritance and get back to your own life. In return for your agreement to Brenda’s offer, I will increase the offer. Shall we say double?” He drew a checkbook from his breast pocket, clearly prepared to write a check here and now.
Allison had the sensation that she was being pushed toward a precipice. She shoved her chair back, rising. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Blackburn.”
“Not?” His face reddened. “Do you understand what I’m offering you, young woman?”
“I understand you’re trying to pressure me into a decision before I’m ready. As a businessman, you should understand that I need to investigate all the possibilities before taking any action.”
Blackburn stood, towering over her and looking even more like a bird of prey. “Suppose I tell you that my offer will not remain on the table indefinitely?”
Since he’d already betrayed how much he wanted to regain the property, his argument wasn’t as convincing as he might have thought.
She smiled. “I’ll pass your offer on to my attorney. You’ll be hearing from us in due course.”
He glared at her for a long moment, his face so red that she wondered just how high his blood pressure might be. “You’ll regret this, Ms. Standish.” He stalked to the door.
The best word to describe his exit was stormy, Allison decided. Once the door had slammed behind him, she took a long look at her actions.
Was she burning bridges by her refusal to act before she was ready? She didn’t think so. If Blackburn wanted the building as much as he seemed to, he wouldn’t give up that easily. Probably he’d hoped to push her into a decision before she had a chance to think it through.
She wouldn’t be pushed, but she would have to make plans for her future and the future of Blackburn House. Soon.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WASN’T MORE than a few minutes later that Allison saw the door of her office slowly begin to open. If Blackburn had returned for another round—
But the face that peered around the corner of the door was a small one, topped by a shock of wheat-colored hair. Brown eyes surveyed her with curiosity.
She smiled. “Come in. Did you want to see me?”
The answering smile identified him beyond any doubt, since it bore an uncanny resemblance to Nick’s. This had to be Nick’s son.
“Hi. I’m Jamie.” He sidled in, darting a look around the room.
“I thought you must be.” She pushed her chair away from the desk. “I’m Allison. It’s nice to meet you.”
He nodded, as if to say he already knew that. “I’m called Jamie because my grandpa is Jim, and Grammy says it would be too confusing if I was Jimmy, ’cause sometimes she calls him that when she’s being silly.”
Allison nodded, engaged by his artless chatter. “That makes good sense. And Jamie’s a nice name.”
“It’s okay. I’m the only Jamie in first grade, anyway. Do you have a nickname?”
“My brothers always called me Ally.” She had a quick memory of Luke and Chad at that age, always exploding with energy.
Jamie’s gaze flickered around the office again. “My daddy says you have a cat. He said you hit him with it.”
She had to repress a smile at this artless confession. “I bumped him with the cat’s carrier. I didn’t mean to.” That wasn’t exactly true, but she hadn’t meant to hit Nick in particular. Just whoever had grabbed her.
Jamie stooped to look under the desk. “I thought maybe your cat would be here.”
Clearly it was Hector who was the attraction. “Hector is over at Mrs. Anderson’s house. He was taking a nap with her cat when I left, so I let him stay.”
She expected Jamie to be disappointed, but he grinned.
“He’s having a sleepover. My friend Kevin had a sleepover at my house once, but he had a bad dream in the night, and Daddy had to take him home. Daddy said he should have known better than to say yes, but Grammy said they shouldn’t say no just because it was incon...incon...”
“Inconvenient?” she supplied.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Jamie was swinging on the edge of her desk by this time, seeming sure of his welcome. “And Daddy said he was the one who had to drive back to town at one o’clock and she said it wouldn’t hurt him. And Uncle Mac said—”
Allison began to feel a bit guilty listening to all this. “Maybe the sleepover will work better the next time you try.”
“Maybe,” he said, sounding doubtful.
“So you live with your grammy and grandpa, do you?” she asked, trying to change the subject but having little idea what interested a six-year-old.
“Grammy, Grandpa, Daddy, Uncle Mac and me. And Shep, that’s the dog.”
“Sounds like a full house.” And it sounded as if Jamie was surrounded by people he loved. His parents were divorced, according to Sarah, but wasn’t his mother in the picture?
“Yep.” He came closer, leaning confidingly on the arm of her chair. “My mommy lives in Los Angeles. Sometimes she sends me presents.”
That was said very matter-of-factly, but it caused a twinge in Allison’s heart. “When I was little, my daddy lived far away, but he used to send me presents sometimes, too.”
He nodded, fixing a pair of big brown eyes on her face. “Did he sometimes send things that were too babyish for you?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “I guess he just didn’t know how much I’d grown.”
“Yeah, that must be it. Can I see your cat sometime?”
“Sure you can. Anytime.” There must be a kind of universal pattern for children who had a parent leave them behind. But Jamie seemed to be well provided for with people who cared for him, and he had plenty of confidence.
“Jamie!” The voice floated up from below. “Jamie, where are you?”
“Sounds as if we’d better tell your daddy where you are, right?” She rose, thinking she’d walk him to the door.
“Sure thing.” He grabbed her hand. “You come, too, okay?”
Since he was tugging her along, she didn’t have much choice. They reached the head of the stairs, and she glanced down, seeing Nick staring up at them, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of her with his son.
Jamie pulled her hand. “Come on, Ally.”
They started down the steps, with Jamie’s hand confidently in hers. It felt nice. He was the first person she’d met since she’d arrived in town who hadn’t wanted something from her.
Jamie seemed to feel her watching him. He looked up as they neared the bottom of the stairs. “Were you scared last night?”
“Scared?” Her mind spun. “What makes you think that?”
“I heard Uncle Mac and Daddy talking, and Daddy said somebody might be trying to scare you. And Uncle Mac said maybe you were imagining it.”
“So that’s what Uncle Mac thinks, is it?” It sounded as if her little chat with the police chief hadn’t gotten her anywhere.
“That’s what he says when I say there’s something under my bed.”
“Well, I’m sure there’s not really anything under your bed.” That had to be the right response, didn’t it? As for the Whiting brothers...
She met Nick’s eyes and realized he’d overheard.
His gaze slid away from hers, and color came up under his tan. “Jamie, it’s not polite to listen to what other people are saying.”
“But, Daddy, you’re always telling me to listen when grown-ups talk.”
Allison’s lips twitched. “I think he has you t
here.”
Nick’s embarrassment dissolved in a smile. “Sorry. Mac was just, well, trying to figure out the possibilities.”
“I’m sure.” She longed to ask him if he’d meant it when he said someone might be trying to scare her away, but she couldn’t say that in front of the child.
“Daddy, Ally says I can come see her cat anytime.” Jamie was tugging on Nick’s sleeve.
“She does, does she?” Nick looked down at his son, and there was suddenly so much love in his expression that her heart turned over. Nick gave her a questioning glance. “Ally?”
“That’s her nickname,” Jamie said, sounding important. “Her little brothers used to call her that.”
Nick’s brows went up. “I didn’t know you had brothers.”
There was no reason why he should. “Two of them. Half brothers, to be exact. They’re ten years younger than I am. Twins.”
“Wish I was a twin. It would be fun to have someone look just like me.”
“Two of you?” Nick ruffled his hair. “I think one is enough. Look, here’s Grammy.”
Jamie went running to the woman who’d just come in the front door. He hurled himself at her legs. “Grammy, Grammy! I got a star on my spelling homework, and Ally says I can come see her cat anytime I want.”
The woman bent to hug him. “That’s great, Jamie. Do you want to introduce me to your new friend?”
He took her hand and pulled her over. “Ally, this is Grammy.”
“Allison Standish,” Nick murmured.
“I’m Ellen Whiting.” She held out her hand to Allison with a wide smile. “Welcome to Laurel Ridge. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
They were unmistakable, Allison thought, for three generations of one family. Nick had his mother’s eyes, and Jamie her wide, happy smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ellen. Jamie has been telling me about his family.”
“Telling you all the family secrets, no doubt.” She smiled. “Not that any of them are very secret. Jamie loves to chatter, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Jamie’s grin echoed hers, and he nodded.
“Now, Allison, we have to get better acquainted. Goodness, I remember your father from when we were in elementary school together. You must come and have supper with us one night.”
“That...that’s very nice of you.” But she wasn’t sure she wanted to get any further involved with the Whiting family. They, like everyone else, had a vested interest in any decisions she made about Blackburn House.
“Good.” Ellen seemed to take that as an acceptance, though she hadn’t meant it that way. “What about tonight?”
“I’m afraid I have something else going on this evening.” She wasn’t particularly looking forward to Brenda’s cocktail party, but it was a valid excuse.
“Tomorrow night, then,” Ellen said, her tone brisk and decided. “Nick will pick you up at five o’clock. We eat early with a little guy in the house.”
“I don’t...” She wasn’t sure which to tackle first. “There’s no reason for Nick to drive me. Just give me your address and I’ll set the GPS.”
“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. Nick will be delighted, won’t you, Nick?”
The expression on Nick’s face didn’t speak of delight, but his mother didn’t seem to notice. “You’re being bossy, Mom,” he pointed out. “Maybe she’d rather drive herself.”
So she can leave early. The words were unspoken but clear to Allison.
“Don’t be silly. We don’t want her getting lost on those back roads.” She clasped Allison’s hand. “We’re glad you’ve come home to Laurel Ridge at last, Allison.”
Allison wanted to deny that Laurel Ridge was home to her in any sense. But she couldn’t deny the warmth of Ellen Whiting’s welcome.
* * *
TWO SOCIAL INVITATIONS in such a short period of time ought to be gratifying, Allison told herself. Would be, if not for the fact that she wanted to stay detached from the residents of Laurel Ridge, given the decisions she had to make.
She stood in the center hallway of the home her father had grown up in that evening, wondering what she was doing here. Mrs. Anderson hadn’t been able to mask her surprise when Allison mentioned where she was headed, but Allison hadn’t been able to tell whether the surprise was at Allison being asked to the Standish house or at Brenda for hosting a party.
Laurel Ridge seemed to have more than its share of large Victorian homes—relics, so Sarah had told her, of the days when the town was founded and lumber barons grew rich on the virgin timber of the ridges.
The Standish place was more modest than Blackburn House, making her wonder if that was part of the obvious rivalry between the families. But her father’s home had a grace and charm of its own. Pocket doors on either side of the central hallway led on the right to a dining room where an oval cherry table carried an array of finger sandwiches and hors d’oeuvres and on the left to a formal living room. Several well-dressed women were cruising the table, while a few men gathered around a sideboard bearing wine bottles and glasses.
Allison accepted a cup of punch from a white-aproned server and moved toward the living room. She’d greet her hostess, make the rounds and slip away early, before anyone could try to persuade her—
She stopped, staring at the silver-framed photograph that stood on the ornate Victorian mantel. This, then, was her grandmother. Allison moved closer, studying the features of the woman who’d been such a mystery to her.
Evelyn Standish must have been in her seventies when the photograph was taken, but she sat with her shoulders erect and her head held high. The face was austere and fine-boned, but with a hint of softness in the eyes. Or was Allison just hoping she read there some regret? Nonsense. Evelyn Standish had made her choice clear when she’d wiped her granddaughter out of her life. It was too late to go back now.
“Allison. You’re here.” Brenda, turning away from the fireplace, sounded as if she didn’t know quite what to do with Allison now that she’d invited her. “I’m sure there are people who’d be delighted to talk with you.” She looked around as if hoping to spot someone.
A hefty male figure loomed up behind her. “Well, this must be the long-lost granddaughter.” He nudged Brenda as he ran an obviously experienced eye over Allison. “Introduce me.”
“Yes, of course.” Brenda’s relief was visible. “Allison, this is Thomas—”
“Tommy Blackburn,” he said, seizing Allison’s hand and holding it a bit too long. “Don’t call me Thomas or I’ll think you mean my father. Glad to meet you. Nice of Brenda to arrange this little shindig so we can get acquainted.”
Allison freed her hand from his. “It was thoughtful of her.” But exactly what Brenda’s thought had been, she couldn’t say.
“What do you think of Laurel Ridge now that you’ve had a chance to see it?” He grinned and nudged her. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it, right?”
Tommy Blackburn was as much a contrast to his father as she could imagine. He had to be in his forties, at least, and what man that age still wanted to be known as “Tommy”? Ruddy, jovial, with thinning hair and an incipient paunch, he looked as if he’d spent the afternoon on a golf course.
“I’ve met your father,” she said, taking a step back as he invaded her comfort zone.
“I heard.” He rolled his eyes. “You have my sympathy. The old man is obsessed about getting Blackburn House back in the family.”
Allison lifted her eyebrows. “You don’t share his eagerness?”
“Who wants to be burdened with more property? The way the economy is going, the only sensible thing to do with money is enjoy it. You can guess he doesn’t agree with that idea.”
“No, I can see that he wouldn’t.” Apparently Blackburn’s son had no desire to be an empire builder.
<
br /> “Now here’s the Blackburn that will see us into the future.” Tommy reached out a long arm and caught a passing teenager by the shoulder. “T.J., say hello to Ms. Standish. Allison, this is my boy, Thomas Jeffers Blackburn.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Standish.” The boy, who couldn’t be much over seventeen or eighteen, had a prep school blazer and prep school manners, but his gaze swept over her figure much as his father’s had done. With his dark curly hair and that bold gaze, he probably had the teenage girls lining up for dates.
“Do you go to school here in Laurel Ridge, T.J.?” she asked, nodding to the prep school crest.
“St. Francis.” He shrugged gracefully. “Old family tradition, and all that.” He glanced from her to his father. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to be getting some punch for Mrs. Conner.”
“Sure, go on, then, before she thinks you’ve forgotten.” His father waved him away. “He’s a good kid. Closer to my father than I am, I think sometimes.” Tommy leaned in a bit. “I’ll bet you’d like to see something of the place where your dad grew up. Let me show you around. There’s a sunroom on the back that has a nice view of the gardens. This way.” He put his hand on her waist, as if to steer her toward the hall, and let it drift down over her hip.
“Thank you, but I think I’ll let my cousin show me around if she cares to.” She slid away from his grasp. Did he find that approach actually worked on women? Or maybe he expected the Blackburn name to awe her.
With a polite nod, she crossed the room to where Brenda stood, gesturing with a glass dessert plate as she talked to a tall redhead with overly made-up eyes and a sulky smile.
Brenda swung toward her, arranging her face in a smile that seemed to argue with her anxious eyes. “Are you enjoying yourself, Allison? Tommy especially wanted to meet you.”
“I noticed,” she said, and the redhead gave her a surprised, involuntary smile. Up close, the girl was not as old as she wanted people to think, plainly still in her teens.
“This...this is my daughter. Krysta.” Brenda touched the girl’s arm lightly. “We were just...” She let the sentence die out, as if she didn’t want to finish it.