A Double Wedding

by Patricia Knoll

  A Double Wedding

  Patricia Knoll

  Synopsis

  Daniel Wisdom was determined that his father, Lawerence wouldn't fall for another gold digger. Okay, Leila Carlton and her granddaughter Silvey didn't much look like mercenary types, but you could never be sure... Silvey Carlton wasn't keen on her grandmother becoming the fifth Mrs. Lawrence Wisdom. But she knew true love when she saw it. So, if Daniel was determined to think the worst of her - and Leila—Silvey would just have to prove him wrong. Leila and Lawrence were sure of two things: they would get married - and get Daniel and Silvey to realize they were meant for each other, too!

  CHAPTER ONE

  CAPRICIOUS desert winds tossed sprinkles of rain and handfuls of dirt at the big plate-glass windows of The Yogurt Gallery. Fine dust sifted in around the edges of the door.

  Dismayed, Silvanna Carlton gazed at the expanse of glass she had polished to perfection that morning, then down to the black-and-white tile floor she had mopped only moments ago.

  Muttering disparaging comments about Arizona's erratic summer weather, she dipped her string mop back into the sudsy, pine-scented water and picked her way circumspectly to the door. With gentle swings of her slim hips, she dodged the little white tables and wrought-iron chairs. She used broad swipes of the mop to swab the area where the dust had already turned to mud. Grimly, she vowed to get new insulation on the doorframe as soon as the final papers were signed and the shop belonged to her.

  The thought sent satisfied joy surging through her. Her shop. Her floor, windows, equipment. Her own business, at last.

  The smile she flashed around the room changed her oval face from pretty to striking, and brought sparkling lights to her brown eyes.

  Catching sight of herself in the window, she blew her froth of golden brown bangs out of her face and laughed out loud as she realized that her expression could only be described as smug.

  Mop in hand, she stepped back to the dry part of the floor to survey her work. Satisfaction and happiness tingled through her in equal measure. She felt so restless and excited that she could have done a handstand and a backflip off one of the little tables. Instead, she pirouetted in an impromptu dance, holding on to the mop handle as if it was her partner. Exuberantly, she swung around like Ginger Rogers in one of the old musicals she loved.

  For a moment, she forgot that her feet ached all the way up to her shoulders. She remembered only that three years after the end of her career as a circus acrobat, and many interim jobs that she'd found unsatisfactory, she had found one she loved-managing this shop. She had wanted a settled and stable life, and now she was going to have it.

  The Yogurt Gallery was perfect for her. Besides meeting interesting people as she worked behind the counter, she had contact with local artisans who placed all types of artwork, from stained glass to oil paintings, for the shop to sell on consignment. Her outgoing personality made her popular with the customers and her artistic soul was drawn to the craftsmen and their work.

  The shop's location attracted a steady stream of patrons thanks to its location in a minimall. People came in for a cold snack and for some relief from Tucson's searing summer heat. With all those factors working for her, she just knew she could make a go of the shop on her own.

  She laughed, and her air castles dissipated like wisps of smoke before the reality that she had to buy the shop first, but at least it was possible now. Thanks to Grandma, who had come up with the money that very day, bless her!

  Mop in hand, Silvey was turning toward the back room when someone tapped on the window.

  A man stood peering in, his hands bracketing his eyes. She couldn't get a clear view of his face, but glimpsed a flash of white shirt and dark slacks.

  Startled, she shouted, "We're closed!"

  The man's hands dropped to cup his mouth. "Open up. I need...."

  Whatever he said was drowned out by another glass-rattling gust of wind.

  Silvey shook her head firmly. "Sorry, we're closed." She tiptoed across the damp floor to shut the mini-blinds.

  The man must have thought she was going to open the door because he stepped back expectantly, looking down at the knob.

  When she reached for the cord to close the blinds, he yelled, "Hey, wait," and lunged forward.

  Silvey got a glimpse of a strongly defined face and angry eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses before she let the mini-blinds fall down, twisted the wand, and stepped away from the door.

  It was almost eleven o'clock at night, for goodness' sake, and the shop's hours were clearly posted by the door.

  She stood still for a moment, wondering if the stranger had gone, reluctant to peek out. "I'll be darned if I'm going to be a prisoner in my own shop," she muttered. She pulled back a corner of the blind and saw him disappearing down the sidewalk. Relieved, she rinsed the mop and bucket and put them away in the back room, then took window cleaner and a soft cloth to give the gleaming glass and stainless steel cases one more shine.

  Ordinarily, she didn't close up, depending on the part-time high school and college-age employees to do that for her. But today she had worked straight through from opening time until closing because some of her employees were on vacation, and the others couldn't cover until tomorrow.

  Silvey spread the cloth over the edge of the sink and gripped the cool stainless steel. She stiffened her arms until they quivered and dropped her head forward, attempting to ease the strain between her shoulders. Finally, she straightened, rubbed her neck, and yawned.

  The last few months had been the most hectic of her life. Walter, the owner, had been sick, leaving most of the responsibility for running the business to her.

  She had thought it would be easy to buy her own business. Now she shook her head at her naiveté.

  It hadn't helped that her only previous long-term job had been as an acrobat in a circus. As far as she was concerned, it was a perfectly respectable job, but she admitted it wasn't known for its stability.

  After all, she'd lost that job when the circus went bankrupt.

  Since leaving the circus three years ago she had held a string of jobs and that history had also worked against her when she had tried to get a loan.

  When the loan officer had called earlier and broken the news that the bank considered her a poor risk, she had been heartsick and called her grandmother for sympathy. Grandma phoned back two hours later to say the money was being deposited into their joint account that very day.

  Silvey had been stunned, bubbling with questions, which had to go unanswered because she had a shop full of customers. She was eager to get home and find out where Grandma had come across such a windfall.

  Because there was so much to talk over, she hoped her grandmother didn't have a houseful of late-staying guests.

  Grandma's string of eccentric friends would be in the way tonight.

  Although, now that she thought about it, those friends hadn't been around much lately.

  Silvey frowned as she double-checked the door locks and flipped off the lights. Grandma had been acting odd lately-well, odd for someone who was always a bit off the wall. She had been quiet, almost dreamy, not her usual vocal self, spouting about the injustices being done to the elderly, or to lab-oratory animals, or about her new cause: preserving Arizona Indian burial grounds and artifacts.

  Anxious to get home, Silvey picked up the zippered bag for the bank's night deposit slot, pulled her purse strap up over her shoulder, set the alarm, and went out the back door. Late-night heat radiated upward from the asphalt that had absorbed it all day and was now releasing it. For the moment, the wind had settled down.

  After locking the door behind her, she turned to leave the alley. The moon was hidden by clouds and the light at the end of the alle
y was burned out. She had mentioned it to the shopping center's owners, fearing for her teenage employees who worked late, but it had yet to be fixed.

  Tomorrow, she would complain again, long and loud. She stepped up her pace, intending to make her deposit quickly and hop into her car. Thank goodness she had recently been able to afford a new, dependable one. The sporty Mazda Rx 7 might have been extravagant, but she'd been offered a great deal on it from an old boyfriend who sold what he said were mint-condition, pre-owned cars.

  Of course, if she hadn't bought the car, she might not have needed such a large loan to buy the shop. She shrugged her tired shoulders and trudged down the alley.

  The breeze picked up again, scattering trash and rattling fronds on a stand of palm trees. They reached spiky fingers into the night sky as if to puncture the fat clouds scudding overhead, hiding, then revealing, the moon.

  Silvey lifted her head and sniffed the air. The rain-freshened wind picked up again, spreading the sharp, sweet smell of wet mesquite and pungent creosote.

  A dull, metallic thud sounded behind her and she glanced back over her shoulder. Probably some of the cats that patrolled the trash Dumpsters. As she watched, a shadow wavered.

  Disturbed, Silvey whipped around and walked faster, moving just short of a run through the dark alley, heading for the light. "Maybe it's nothing," she muttered. "But ...oof!"

  Silvey bounced off a solid body and staggered backward, the breath punched from her lungs. Even as she heard the other person grunt in surprise, she stumbled against a wall.

  Dazed, she tilted her head back to see a man standing over her. His face was harsh in the yellow glow of the halogen parking lot lights.

  Dark-rimmed glasses made it hard for her to see his eyes. His hand was reaching out to touch her shoulder.

  In that instant, she recognized him as the man who had been watching her through the shop window. She jerked back, scrambling along the wall to get away.

  "I won't hurt you," he insisted. "Was someone chasing you?"

  She blinked, taken by surprise once again. "No... no...." She hated to admit it since she now seemed to be faced with a man who was more daunting than anything she could have met in that alley. "I'm fine. I guess I just got spooked," she said with a defensive up-thrust of her chin. "Especially after seeing you at the front door of my shop earlier, Mr....?"

  "My name's Dan."

  She nodded and gripped the strap of her shoulder bag. The zippered bank envelope shifted under her arm. The gesture reminded her that she had yet to make her bank deposit.

  Nervously, she clutched it and edged away, eyeing him cautiously.

  There was money in that pouch. She breathed a silent, relieved breath when he stepped back to give her some space. "Well, thank you for your help, Mr., uh, Dan. Good night."

  "Wait, Miss Carlton. I need to talk to you."

  He knew her name! That stopped her, swinging her around in alarm.

  "Exactly what is it you want?" They were directly under one of the lights now and she stared up into his face. She tried for the freezing look her grandmother could use to such effect.

  "Just to talk to you."

  Silvey didn't budge. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

  "It's a personal matter. I tried to get you to listen earlier, but you wouldn't open the door."

  "One of my brighter moves," she murmured uncertainly. "I don't even know you." "That's easily solved."

  She drew her bottom lip under her teeth, then turned away with a shake of her head. "Go away. Come back during business hours.

  Daylight business hours. I'm tired and I'm going home. And don't follow me!" She hurried off, finally reaching the dubious comfort and safety of the parking lot. Relieved, she rushed toward the bank.

  "Please, Miss Canton. I'm not going to hurt you." He swung around in front of her and held his hands up as if to prove it.

  At least she could see him better now. His features appeared hard under the yellow lights, all bones and angles. His hair was thick, and cut short. He was dressed in dark slacks and a light shirt with its long sleeves rolled up.

  "If I'd wanted to try something, I would have done it in the alley," he said pointedly, removing his glasses and frowning at her. "This won't take much of your time and I'm sure we can resolve things to our mutual satisfaction."

  "Resolve what things?"

  He slipped his glasses on. His eyes seemed to pierce her through the lenses. "You'll find out sooner if you cooperate." As if her agreement was a foregone conclusion, he moved aside. "I'll wait while you make your bank deposit."

  Unnerved by the whole incident in the alley, the touch of his hand, his persistence, and straightforward watchfulness, Silvey whipped the pouch behind her back. His brows arched at her defensiveness.

  He lifted his hands slowly away from his sides and did a slow turn to show her he carried no weapon. When he spoke, his voice was low, humoring her. "I'm not after your money. In fact, it's the other way around, isn't it?"

  "What?" She pulled back, puzzled.

  "I mean just what I said."

  "You haven't said anything."

  He only smiled again, his mouth as controlled as the rest of him.

  Curiosity warred with caution. Who was this guy and what did he want? There was only one way to find out. Caution went down to defeat, but Silvey was determined to at least give the appearance of being in control of the situation. "All right," she finally said in a crisp tone.

  She headed toward the bank and he walked several feet away from her, then waited at the edge of the sidewalk while she unlocked the night deposit slot and slipped the bag inside. Relieved to be rid of it, she looked back to him.

  "I want to have this talk in a public place." She pointed to a twenty-four-hour restaurant across the parking lot.

  "Whatever you say."

  Silvey started off at a fast clip. Her spirits rose as they drew near the brightly lit building where she often ate when Grandma's friends had cleaned out the refrigerator or when her own lack of culinary skill got the better of her.

  Dan held the door for her and she skirted him. He tilted his head in sardonic acknowledgment of her evasive tactic, but she ignored him, welcoming the lights and the quiet sounds of cutlery and dishes being washed. The place smelled of strong coffee and the same pine cleaner she used on her own shop floors. It was almost deserted with only a few late-night stragglers occupying scattered booths. A waitress came forward with menus.

  "Hi, Silvey. Working late tonight, hmm?"

  "No choice, Patsy, when the part-timers are on vacation." Silvey's mood lightened to amusement when the waitress's interest skipped over her and landed on Dan.

  The voltage of Patsy's smile went up several notches. "Welcome.

  Just sit anywhere. I'll be with you in a minute."

  Silvey looked at Dan-and to discover what the waitress found so attractive in him. With the brighter lights smoothing out the angles in his face, he was almost handsome. His features were even, not harsh. Sandy brown hair was combed straight back from his deeply tanned face. Sky-blue eyes met her surprised brown ones and amusement flickered momentarily. She couldn't begin to guess his age. He appeared to be somewhere around thirty, but his eyes seemed older-watchful.

  They started toward a booth at the back of the homey restaurant which was decorated with chintz curtains and hanging plants. The two of them slid into opposite sides of a red vinyl booth.

  Dan flipped open the menu. "What will you have?"

  "Just coffee, please." Silvey watched him for a long minute as she experienced the same uneasy sensations she'd known in the parking lot.

  He ordered coffee for both of them and Silvey said, "Now, why don't you get to the point and tell me what you want?"

  He met her direct gaze with one of his own. His eyes darkened to the hue of midnight as they searched her small, piquant features, lined with cautious suspicion. Finally, he nodded. "All right." From his shirt pocket, he drew a small notebook. "Just let
me confirm a few facts to make sure I have the right woman."

  She straightened away from the cool vinyl seat. "Right woman?"

  "You are Silvanna Lee Canton, aged twenty-three?"

  "Well, yes, but...."

  "Your parents, Richard and Elaine Carlton currently live in Venezuela where they work as geologists for Marathon Oil company?"

  Silvey's hands gripped the edge of the table. "How do you know about my parents?"

  He plowed ahead. "You live with your grandmother, Leila Parkins Canton, also known as Leila the Wonder Woman, a former circus acrobat, with whom you performed for several years, and with whom you now have a joint bank account?"

  Silvey's brown eyes grew enormous with surprise. "Well, certainly she used that name when we were in the circus ...but what business is it of yours about our bank account?" She half rose from her seat.

  "What's this all about? Who are you?"

  A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, but it did nothing to soften his features. His face was inscrutable as he watched the confusion that drew her brows together and dropped the corners of her mouth into a pout. His look flicked from her lips and narrowed on her puzzled eyes.

  "My last name is Wisdom, and I want to know what it will cost me to keep you and your grandmother away from my father."

  "Your father? Who on earth is your father?"

  "Lawrence Wisdom, as if you didn't know."

  "Well, I certainly don't know. I've never heard of him. Or you. And I never want to hear from you again. You are a crazy man. I should have trusted my first instinct and refused to talk to you." She started to rise.

  Dan sat forward, pinning her with the strength of his will. His fingers gripped the edge of the table until the tips whitened. When he spoke, he made sure only his voice touched her, low and scathing.

  "Sit down, Miss Canton, and listen to what I have to say."

  She stared at him, engaged in an inner battle. Part of her wanted to sweep out on a tide of righteous indignation. A larger part wanted to defend her grandmother's reputation as well as her own.

 
-->