He opened the refrigerator. “Been in bed all day?” Taking out a bottle of flavored sparkling water, he let the refrigerator door close.
“Movie day.”
He twisted the cap off the water. “All by yourself?”
“Yes.” She picked up the cup and gulped. “I had a late night.”
She had been having a lot of those. He took in her disheveled state. Even tired, her beauty could not be diminished, but it wasn’t like her at all to behave this way. What happened to his sweet sister?
“Where were you?” he asked.
Holding the cup with both hands, she drank some more soda. “I went to a party with Mitch and then we went to breakfast.”
“You’re seeing a ranch hand?” He threw the cap into the trash compactor.
“No. We’re friends. We’ve been friends for a long time. You know that.”
He did. But she had never gone partying with him before. She didn’t party. Then something else came to him. “I thought you had a charity event scheduled for last night.”
“Yes. Whit’s assistant handled it for me.”
“You made his assistant do it?” Carson was taken aback. “I bet that was a huge imposition for her.”
Landry’s head jerked back. “She was okay with it.”
“She probably did it out of sympathy. You’re falling apart after Dad’s death and Mom’s going after Elizabeth.”
Landry looked down at her pizza and went to the refrigerator. “I’m starving.”
“Landry.” He watched her take out some dip and then go to the pantry for a bag of chips. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’m okay.” She picked up her plate and tucked the dip under her arm and grabbed up the bag of chips with the same hand that held the plate. Planting a kiss on his cheek, she took her soda and started to leave the kitchen.
“No, you’re not, Landry.” When she stopped and looked back at him, he continued, “You’re acting strangely. Both Whit and I have noticed. You’ve been different ever since Mom ran off.”
She angled her head in protest, adjusting the dip under her arm and balancing the cup of soda.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. It was time she talked about it.
Lowering her head for a few seconds, she turned and deposited her picnic items onto one of the kitchen islands. After a few more seconds, she lifted her head. “Everyone is so convinced Mom tried to kill Elizabeth. And that she might have even killed Dad.” She shook her head. “Really? Mom? How can anyone think she’d do such a thing?”
“I do think her motive to kill Dad is weak, but she did try to kill Elizabeth, Landry. I know it’s hard to accept, but she did.”
He could see her struggle with that. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around her own mother trying to kill someone.
“Why do you think she ran?” he asked. “She’s guilty.”
“She ran because everyone is crucifying her.”
Carson walked over to her and took her hand. “Landry, this is hard for you. She’s our mother. We grew up with her. Nobody wants to admit their own mother is capable of murder, but ours is. You have to stop denying that. It’s affecting your life.”
“It is not. I’m fine.” She gathered up her food and drink again. “Mom didn’t go off the deep end and kill anyone.”
“Mom has probably been off the deep end for a long time. She’s guilty, Landry. Why is it so hard for you to see that?”
Landry jerked her hand free. “She’s our mother, Carson!”
Carson decided to back off for now. He could tell when a woman had had enough. Pretty soon emotions would take over. He wouldn’t upset her more than she was.
“Why are you badgering me, anyway?” she lashed out. “I was having a nice peaceful day until I ran into you!”
“Movie day.” He pointed to her armful of food. “Junk-food-in-bed day because you were out all night partying? Since when do you do that? Since when do you shove your charity work onto somebody else? Somebody who has a family and has to work every day?”
Her head fell in contrition. She realized now what she had done.
“I’m sorry. I just...”
Can’t deal with the drama Patsy had created. “It’s okay. I’m here for you if you ever need to talk.”
She lifted her head. “Thanks, Carson. You were always there for me.”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get through this. Whatever the outcome, we’ll get through it.”
The Landry he knew and loved returned briefly. She smiled and leaned in for another cheek kiss, her bag of potato chips crunching.
When she drew back, she said, “I love you.”
“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I am.”
“No more late-night partying.”
“Mmm.” She nodded noncommittally. “Maybe.”
“Landry...”
“Oh, stop. You’re always taking care of us. You should take care of yourself for a change. Starting with that woman out there.” She pointed toward the living room and waggled her eyebrows. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
“We’re not talking about that.”
Her face lit up and she adjusted her hold on the dip again. “You like her.”
“Stop it, Landry.”
“What’s stopping you?” She gave him an elbow to the ribs. “She’s pretty.”
What was stopping him? Her mystery, for one. His uncertain future, another. Or were those excuses? “I barely know her,” he ended up saying.
Landry laughed a little. “You and Whit.”
“I’m not getting married.”
She just chuckled some more, turning with her junk food.
“Enjoy your picnic.” He headed for the living room. “I’ll be checking up on you, so behave.”
“Okay. You do the opposite,” she called.
As he stood in the kitchen, Whit entered.
“I just saw Landry. She looks a wreck.”
“Yeah.”
“But happy. What did you say to her?”
“I scolded her for being too wild and asking your assistant to do her charity work for her.”
“She did that?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have a talk with my assistant. I’ll tell her next time Landry does that I ordered her to say no.”
“Thanks.” Carson sipped his water. “What brings you here?” Why wasn’t he at home with his wife? That was why he had to fill in for him today.
“I needed to ask if you could you cover for me tomorrow morning, too. Can you? I’ve got some plans with Elizabeth until about noon.”
Whit was trying to ease him into a full-time position. Carson didn’t need a confession to know that. But like the last time he’d asked, it ate at him. Whit had turned their dad’s office into his office. Every time he sat in there, it took him down memory lane and filled in gaps with the image of a grieving Reginald.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” Carson said.
Whit frowned in confusion. “Doing what?”
“Asking me to cover for you. You’re grooming me to take over.”
“I am not. Elizabeth is pregnant. She requires a lot of attention.”
And she’d only require more once the baby was born. “I don’t want to run AdAir.”
“No?”
Carson looked away. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. Getting to know his dead father was torturous, but it was also bittersweet. His curiosity kept him going back for more. When he was in his office, he seemed the most connected to him.
“Just the morning, Carson. It’s no big deal. If we have to hire externally, we will.”
Seeing Georgia appear in the entrance to the kitchen, he told Whit, “Okay. I’ll be there.”
He didn’t want to argue in front of her.
“Thanks. My assistant will be there to help you.”
Carson watched him go.
“You could suffer worse calamities,” Georgia said, teasi
ng him.
“I don’t mind covering for him.”
“Yes, you do.”
He walked toward her. “Just for that, I’m taking you to dinner.”
* * *
Georgia should have said no. But here she stood in front of the mirror, looking ready for a five-hundred-dollar dinner. And tingling on the inside because Carson was taking her. Was it a real date? What if she secretly let herself consider it so?
Hearing her phone ring, she went to her purse and took it out. Seeing the name on the screen, she went still. Drake. Should she answer it?
He hadn’t tried to call her since she broke up with him. The way things had ended, she wasn’t sure talking to him was a good idea. Severing all ties felt like the right decision. But why was he calling?
“Drake?”
“Georgia.” He sounded relieved. “I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”
She almost hadn’t.
“I just wanted to tell you that I miss you. You’ve been a good friend to me for so long. I really do miss you. I don’t want to lose that, Georgia.”
That was commendable, but could she ever go back to the way they were?
“I was wondering if we could meet sometime. Maybe for lunch or coffee. Nothing too cozy. Keep it casual. You know, like we used to.”
For a moment, she was back in college, laughing and talking to him as if they’d known each other for a lifetime. How nice it would be to have that friendship again.
“I miss that, too,” she said.
“Do you?” He sounded surprised.
Why was he surprised? Maybe it was his old insecurity popping out again. “Yes. You were my best friend.”
“I can still be your best friend.”
She hesitated, her insides rebelling against the idea of attempting friendship with him after what happened.
“No?” he coaxed.
“I...I don’t know, Drake. I’m not sure we can be friends like that again.” Friendly, yes, but close friends? She didn’t think so. She saw him so differently now.
“I’m sorry about the way it ended, Georgia. We should have talked first.”
Talked before he’d shocked her with a side of him she’d never seen before. “Yes, we should have.”
“How about we meet for lunch tomorrow. Are you free? We’ll talk then.”
Everything in her recoiled. “I—I can’t. I’m not home. I’m in San Diego.”
“Really? What are you doing there?”
She explained about the inheritance and Jackson’s kidnapping but left out details. “Reginald’s sons are carrying on with his investigation. They didn’t know Jackson was kidnapped or that he even existed until the reading of the will.”
“No kidding. That’s amazing. His sons, huh?”
“Whit and Carson.” After a lengthy pause, he asked, “When will you be home?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t made definite plans.”
There was a long silence on the other end. “Well, it so happens that I’ve got a business meeting there in a couple of days.”
Drake’s job brought him to San Diego a lot. His company’s headquarters was located there. She didn’t say anything, lest she encourage him to ask to meet while he was here.
“You’re spending a lot of time there. Is there a problem with the inheritance?” he asked.
She appreciated that he’d respected her need for distance. And he understood about Ruby. Of course, he would. He knew all about her heartbreak. “No.” She didn’t feel like getting into the mediation meeting and what Carson had done for Ruby.
“Then what’s keeping you?”
“Ruby. She’s getting hopeful Carson will find her son.”
“Is she doing all right?” he asked.
“She needs me.”
Drake chuckled with affection, a familiar sound from long ago. The nostalgia stung, though, now that they were no longer friends the way they were back then.
“My Georgia, always looking out for others and never herself.”
She breathed a laugh and almost told him he reminded her of Carson.
“How are you faring with all those Adairs around you?” he asked.
Also like Carson, Drake was aware of her annoyances. “They aren’t so bad.”
“No?”
“Ruby is seeing one of their neighbors.”
“Ruby? Where are you staying?”
She hesitated. “At Carson’s ranch.”
There was another lengthy pause, and Georgia felt sick that he might be jealous. “Why are you staying there?”
She didn’t feel as though she had to answer that. But this was Drake. The old Drake, insecurities and all. “He invited us. While we look for Jackson...” She offered no other explanation.
“Do you like him?”
She faltered before saying, “He’s been very kind to us. He isn’t like his father.”
“So you do like him.”
She didn’t respond.
“Georgia Mason is falling for a rich guy,” he teased with a chuckle. “Who would have thought? Not me.”
“I’m not falling for him. I’m here for Ruby and nothing else.”
“So defensive,” he continued to tease, and then he chuckled again. “It’s okay, Georgia. I want us to be friends again. That’s why I called you. I didn’t like it that we broke up, but now I’ve had some time to think and I know what’s most important to me. You. Your friendship. We gave it a try romantically. It didn’t work out. Let’s not let it ruin our friendship.”
She smiled until she remembered what happened to break them up.
“Think it over,” he said in her silence.
Her tension eased. “It’s good to hear from you, Drake, but I have to go.”
“All right, darlin’. Call me when you get home.”
“I will.”
Disconnecting, she stared at her phone awhile, not at all sure she would call when she returned home. Was it possible they could be friends again? Thinking of that awful night that had changed everything between them, she had major doubts. In fact, she was beginning to think she never wanted to go back to Florida. That maybe it would be best if she started over somewhere else. Like...here.
Snapping out of that fantasy, Georgia left the room. Moving away would only mean she was running from her past. She had a home and a job she loved back in Florida. No one and nothing was going to chase her away.
Chapter 9
Carson took her to Frederick’s, a resort restaurant renowned for its fine-dining experience. Georgia didn’t want to admit she loved it. The ambience. The silky cream-colored gown Carson had left out for her—along with accessories that included a feathery shawl. And food she’d never tried before. It all began with a coddled farm egg with caviar and capers. Next came sea bass in a green-curry broth with thinly sliced cucumbers. King crab–filled dumplings with a hint of orange and basil arrived third, and the grand finale before dessert was pan-seared salmon on a bed of sautéed spinach, garnished with shallots and sun-dried tomatoes and a beurre blanc sauce drizzled over the top.
“Admit it. You could get used to this,” Carson said with a grin. Both of them leaned back against their chairs, content and full of great food and pampered by exceptional service.
“You do this a lot?”
He shook his head. “Never.”
Really? She supposed that was due to the fact that he hadn’t been here since he joined the Marines. She didn’t want to like him even more than she did now. He was normal. Like her. An ordinary person. Except he had money. Lots of it. And once he acclimated to his new lifestyle, how would he change? Or would he? Carson struck her as a man who did things his own way and wasn’t easily influenced by others.
“What do you like to do in your spare time?” she asked. “Besides read.”
“What would you like to do with yours if you could afford it?” he asked rather than answered.
“I asked you first.”
He thought a moment. “I don’t really kn
ow.”
“What did you like to do when you were in the Marines?”
“There wasn’t much to do. When I was on assignment, which was pretty much all the time, I went out with the guys and played pool.” Something else came to him, Georgia saw in the way his eyes grew more alert. “I did love to see the way the locals lived. Get out into the country and eat at pubs in villages. Tour historical sites.”
She’d love to do that, too, if she could afford it. But one really great trip in her lifetime would be enough. She didn’t need excess.
“One of my favorite trips was when I traveled from where I was stationed in Germany to Ambleside, United Kingdom, and visited Beatrix Potter’s hilltop home.”
“Beatrix Potter?”
“I read a lot of biographies. Hers was one of them. I admired her courage to live according to her own rules. She went against her parents and had ambitions only most men were accepted to have.”
She could see him having an affinity for people like that. He was no different when it came to defying his parents.
“I love rare books,” she said. “I can’t afford to collect the ones I’d really like—Beatrix Potter among them.”
“That’s the one thing my father did that I loved, too,” he said.
“Reginald collected old books?”
“He did. I used to read them and he’d get really mad at me. I used to hate him for that, but now...” He went off into memory. “I’ve begun to go through his books and have been thinking about carrying on his collection.”
“That sounds lovely.” She smiled with how much she liked that. She would be an avid book collector if she had the money. “Does he have Beatrix Potter?”
He shook his head. “Amazingly, no. I think he might have if he’d have thought of it. I can see that was one more thing I never noticed about him. His book collecting. One more thing that made him human.”
“Your dad was human?” She breathed a laugh.
“You wouldn’t have guessed it if you ever met him.”
Georgia didn’t have to meet him. She had gotten well-acquainted with the man through Ruby.
“Jackson changed him,” Carson said.
“It would change any parent. Can you imagine losing your own child? Not knowing if they were dead or alive? It would be pure torture.”
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