by Marta Perry
“I had a call from the garage this afternoon, and it is. But I don’t want to take you out of your way.” And she didn’t like being dependent on him, especially when he sounded so annoyed with the whole business.
He gave her a quick glance as they moved into the dimmer light under the trees that surrounded the cottage. “It’s no trouble.” His voice had warmed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take my ill humor out on you.”
Amanda wasn’t sure how to react. It seemed plain that Trey’s concern for his father was behind his attitude. Should she say something about him directly or not? Still, Trey certainly knew plenty about her own relationship with her mother.
“I didn’t intend to sound flip about your father dealing with Shay on my account. I’m sorry he’s not well.”
“It’s not your fault.”
She couldn’t see his face clearly in the near-darkness, but she knew how it would look from the tightness in his voice. Stern, steely, shutting her out. Clearly Trey didn’t share his private life with a client.
They’d reached the small porch on the front of the cottage, and a mellow glow reached them from the light she’d left on. Barney, apparently knowing she was near, let out a soft woof of welcome.
“Good night.” Amanda took a step toward the porch but stopped at his touch on her arm.
“Guess I’m supersensitive where my dad is concerned. He retired when he first experienced heart issues, figuring he was leaving the firm in good hands.” He paused, and she could feel his struggle. “But then everything fell to pieces last spring. The man who’d been his partner for years killed himself after it came out that he’d murdered someone.”
Amanda swallowed a gasp, not wanting to stop him.
“My father took it hard, of course. And the firm nearly went under from all the bad publicity. It almost killed Dad.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I guess you feel you have to protect him, especially from anything else that might impact the firm.”
“Dad inherited the practice from his father. He built it up to be the most respected law firm in this part of the state. Sure, I feel responsible. Wouldn’t you, if you were expected to follow in your mother’s footsteps?”
She had to suppress a smile at that. “Given my total lack of artistic talent, no one ever expected that. As for what I might have inherited from my birth mother...well, I don’t know enough about her to say.”
Trey focused on her now, with an intentness that was like the touch of his fingers against her skin. “You never wondered about that...your artistic failings, if that’s what they were?”
Amanda considered that. “I can’t say I did. Maybe that means I was a pretty dumb kid.”
“I’d say it means Juliet made you so secure in her love that you never had to wonder.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “She did.”
He raised his hand to touch her face, and his fingers were warm against her skin in the cool night air. “I’m glad you have that to remember.” His voice was soft; his breath moved against her cheek. The slightest turn of her face would be enough to bring their lips together.
Not giving herself time to think about it, she moved so that her lips touched his. She felt his breath catch, and then he put his arms around her and drew her close. The kiss was warm and deep and satisfying, and she drank in the scent and feel of him. At some level she remembered thinking they’d both be better off if they kept things at a professional level.
Too late for that now, and maybe it always had been.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AMANDA HEARD TREY’S car a few minutes early the next day, and she grabbed her jacket and hurried to the door. She’d thought she’d hop in the car and they’d leave, but Trey must have other plans, because he was already mounting the steps to the porch. When she opened the door he walked in, frowning and preoccupied, with barely a nod to acknowledge her.
She hadn’t expected a romantic greeting, but she’d certainly thought he’d show a bit more warmth. Or maybe he was already regretting the passion that had flared between them the previous night. Chilled, she was glad that at least they’d both had sense enough to stop at a few kisses.
“I’m ready to go,” she pointed out.
Her words seemed to recall him from that private abstraction. “Sorry.” His face relaxed in a smile. “Let’s start again. Hello, Amanda. You look beautiful today.” He kissed her lightly, carefully, as if afraid of starting something.
Maybe that was for the best. They had business in hand.
“Hello, yourself. Shouldn’t we be going?”
“Yes, but there’s been a change of plans. I had a call from Shay while I was driving over.”
“Canceling?” She was aware of a sharp disappointment, making her think she’d counted on too much from this interview.
“No, we’re still on. But apparently Elizabeth got wind of what’s going on and came down on her son-in-law with a demand to know why he was keeping it from her.”
“That sounds like a valid question.” She didn’t like things being kept from her, either. Not even for her own good.
He shrugged. “He may have meant to protect her, but he should have known better. She always gets to know everything. People say that the housekeeper has orders to report on every conversation that takes place in that house. Elizabeth rules with an iron hand, it seems.”
“I’m surprised they haven’t rebelled.” Like Melanie did, although that hadn’t turned out well in the end.
“So, the bottom line is that we’re to come to the house and meet the whole family. Including Elizabeth.” He paused, his gaze on her face. “Are you upset?”
“No...no, I guess not. That’s what I intended from the beginning, when I still had the illusion that this would be a simple matter of finding out a few facts. I just didn’t expect it would be today.”
Trey had a wry smile for that. “Naive, weren’t you? The suddenness doesn’t leave us any time to prepare, and that might have been what was in Elizabeth’s mind. She may be close to ninety, but she’s still as sharp as she ever was, from what I hear.”
“That’s a good thing to know.” Amanda tried for a lightness she didn’t feel. “Heredity being what it is, and assuming Melanie was my mother.”
She expected Trey would at least smile at that, but he had returned to that brooding, preoccupied look. “You’re worried,” she said bluntly. “Why?”
“I don’t know, exactly. When you grow up in Echo Falls, you absorb the idea that the Winthrop family is untouchable. Founders of the town, prominent family, all those things that used to carry with them a certain...well, inviolability.”
“Aren’t you the one who is being naive now? I understand privilege, but that’s carrying it too far. You’d think they were the Cabots or the Rockefellers.”
“They were, to people here. The current generation has dented that idea, but it lingers in a place like this.”
She tried to process that but still found it beyond her. “I thought those days were gone for good. You think that representing me will have repercussions for your firm, is that it?”
Trey shrugged. “To some extent.”
Amanda turned, not wanting him to see her face. “Do you want to back out?”
“No!” He shot the word out, grasping her arms and turning her to face him. “I haven’t changed my mind. I wouldn’t have said as much as I did, but you asked.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Are we okay?”
“We’re okay,” she said, smiling in return. “Let’s go face the lioness in her den.”
They’d reached the edge of town before she came out with the truth that lingered in the back of her mind and skittered along her nerves.
“Confession time,” she said abruptly. “I’m nervous about this meeting, no matter how much rationalizing I do.”
He glanced at her. “That seems natural to me.”
“It doesn’t to me. I mean, I don’t want anything from them except information. I don’t feel as if they’re my relatives, and I’m not looking for a new family. In every important way, Juliet was my family.”
“We do want something from them,” Trey said. “Don’t forget that in the midst of your rationalizations. We want a DNA test to prove your parentage, one way or the other. And we want any information they might have about where Melanie’s baby was born.” He frowned. “If any. I don’t expect it to be easy to gain their cooperation.”
“What if they refuse? Do I have any options?”
“To force the issue, you mean?” Trey had turned onto a residential street that headed up the hillside toward the ridge above the town. He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck as if feeling the strain in his muscles. “Your only recourse would be to file suit against them to recognize you as Melanie’s daughter. They’d almost have to submit to DNA testing in that case.” He darted a sideways look at her. “Is that what you want to do?”
“No.” That much, at least, she felt sure of. “That would imply that I wanted something from them. Besides, the publicity would do me as much harm as it would them.”
“True.” He turned the car between matching stone posts and up a paved driveway. “Elizabeth’s first reaction to the idea of DNA testing will be negative, I’m sure. But Shay is a businessman. He’ll be counting the cost of refusal, and he may be able to sway her. So don’t be too disappointed if this doesn’t go well.”
Amanda would answer, but she was too busy gaping at the house that reared up suddenly in front of them. She knew enough to recognize it as an Italianate Victorian mansion with its arched windows and distinctive cornices. It wasn’t any more elaborate than some of the houses in her Boston neighborhood, but it certainly was impressive here. It stood three stories, but looked even taller because of the square tower that soared above them as Trey parked the car, and they got out.
“Wow,” she murmured.
“Exactly. The first Winthrop to make his fortune also wanted to make a statement. This was supposedly his idea of elegance. Or maybe the architect’s idea. He must have had a field day with a free hand to spend as much as he wanted.” Trey grimaced. “I think the family’s past that policy of spending by now.”
“I should hope so. I’m surprised he didn’t choose to build his mansion somewhere a little...well, bigger, at least.”
Trey took her arm as they moved toward imposing double doors that looked as if they belonged on a cathedral. “He made his fortune here, from land speculation and lumbering. From what people say, he wanted to stay here and lord it over what he considered his town.”
“I’m beginning to understand the Winthrops, I think. Better to be a big fish in a small pond...”
“Exactly.” Trey smiled and lifted the knocker. “Well, here we go. Are you ready?”
“Do it,” she said.
The brass knocker made a resounding thud. A moment passed before footsteps approached the door. Amanda expected an ominous creak as the massive door swung open, but it moved soundlessly. The man who stood waiting was impressive in a silver-haired, well-fed, well-groomed sort of way. His gaze flicked over Amanda and settled on Trey.
“Ah, Trey, thank you for coming to the house instead of to the mill. Come in and introduce me.”
They stepped into a tiled hallway, and Amanda realized that this part of the house was in the square tower. The ceiling of the hall was two stories up, with a glittering chandelier hanging in its center. The crystal droplets chimed softly when a faint breeze came through the door as Trey closed it.
“Amanda, this is Donald Shay. Donald, Amanda Curtiss.”
Shay inclined his head with a polite smile rather than a handshake. Not warm, but polite. She got the message that this meeting was going to be conducted calmly, with no unseemly displays of emotion, at least if he had anything to say about it.
She couldn’t imagine it was going to be that easy, especially if Carlie were involved, but maybe she behaved better when under her family’s eyes.
“Come into the parlor, will you?” He led the way into what was obviously the front one of two parlors, typical of Victorian houses.
Three people stood waiting, and one of them Amanda already knew. Carlie Shay looked at her with the same dislike she’d displayed when they’d met in town. Would she acknowledge the fact that they’d already encountered each other, or ignore it?
“This is my wife, Betty.” Shay gestured toward the older woman. Betty would be Elizabeth’s daughter, sibling of Melanie’s father. Amanda held out her hand automatically and then wished she hadn’t.
The woman twisted her hands together for a moment as if she didn’t know what to do and then managed a limp, brief handshake.
“It...it’s nice to meet you, Ms. Curtiss.” She glanced quickly at her husband, as if to ask if she had done it correctly.
Donald was already moving on. “These are our children, Carlie and Ethan.” No mention of the fact that she’d already met Carlie, so Amanda guessed she hadn’t told her family.
Amanda contented herself with a nod. She wouldn’t give Carlie away, although she had no reason to spare her embarrassment. Maybe her parents wouldn’t find her tirade embarrassing, if she’d only said what they were feeling.
Carlie’s color was high, and she gave a reluctant nod, then tossed her head and deliberately turned away. All her movements were quick and emphatic, qualities she apparently hadn’t received from her mother.
Although maybe Betty had been different as a young woman. Amanda tried to imagine the faded figure, which already seemed to be disappearing into the woodwork, as the vivid personality her daughter was. No use. She couldn’t.
The son was another story entirely. Ethan must be the younger of the two. He was fair and slight. He met her gaze with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, stammered something that might have been a greeting and seemed to repeat his mother’s effect of fading into the background.
An interesting mix—they appeared to be a family of positives and negatives, with the two dynamic personalities dominating the room.
“Well, shall we all sit down?” Shay didn’t seem to have found anything awkward in his family’s reception of her. He ushered Amanda into a chair next to his wife.
Trey, not waiting to be directed to a seat, pulled a chair up on her other side, maybe to emphasize that he represented her.
An awkward silence fell, and Amanda caught Shay giving a sidelong glance at the archway to the hall. Obviously, they were waiting for Elizabeth Winthrop to show up.
Trey moved slightly. “I had expected to meet at your office today. The change came as a surprise.”
Annoyance crossed Donald Shay’s urbane features for a second or two. “Yes, well, perhaps it’s best this way. In view of Ms. Curtiss’s claim...”
“I haven’t made any claims.” In this, at least, Amanda didn’t think she needed anyone to speak for her.
“That’s not what I’ve heard.” Carlie sounded as if she couldn’t keep silent any longer. “It’s all over town that you claim to be Melanie Winthrop’s daughter. If you think we’re going to put up with that...”
“Carlie.”
The sharp voice drew every eye to the archway. Elizabeth Winthrop...it couldn’t be anyone else. She was a dominant figure even without knowing who she was. Erect, despite her age, she had one hand on the ebony head of a cane, but she didn’t appear to lean on it. Her black dress, trimmed with a frill of white lace at the neck, seemed to belong to an earlier age, but there was nothing old-fashioned about the way she instantly took control of the room, sweeping it with a critical glance that made Ethan sit up straighter, silenced Carlie and brought on a new spate of hand-wringing from Betty.
Trey
rose. “Mrs. Winthrop, may I introduce Amanda Curtiss.”
Amanda stood, too, compelled by the force of the woman’s stare. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
Elizabeth Winthrop gave a derisive snort. “I see who I want to see, young woman. And nothing happens in this family without my agreement.” She stumped forward into the room, now using the cane and accompanied by an older woman in a neat gray dress that had a suggestion of a uniform about it. This, she assumed, was the housekeeper Trey had mentioned.
Elizabeth took the upholstered chair Shay had pulled up for her, sat without looking and pushed away her daughter’s attempt to put a footstool under her feet. Her gaze never left Amanda’s face.
Amanda perched on the edge of her chair, ready for whatever the woman decided to throw at her. At least, she hoped she was ready.
“You’re not attempting to use the Winthrop name, I take it. Wise of you.”
A flicker of anger stiffened Amanda’s determination. “My name is Curtiss. My adoptive mother was Juliet Curtiss, the artist.” Would people out here even know the name? She wasn’t in Boston anymore.
“So you say.” Elizabeth may or may not have heard of her, but clearly it didn’t make any difference.
“Amanda’s bona fides are perfectly in order.” Trey spoke before she could snap an answer. “She was raised in Boston, attended Boston College and Penn Veterinary Medicine School, and is employed by a veterinary practice in Boston.”
“Then what are you doing here, poking into my granddaughter’s death?” She snapped the question at Amanda, ignoring Trey.
“Not her death,” Amanda said, lured off topic by the accusation, which made her sound like a ghoul. “I learned after my mother’s death that Juliet was not my biological mother.”
Careful, she thought. These people don’t need to know that your inheritance from Juliet might be in doubt.
“Naturally I want to know where I came from, especially since my mother never talked about it. I found a reference in her work that seemed to link with the time of my birth, and I learned it referred to Melanie Winthrop. That’s why I’m here.”