Scent of Roses ; Season of Strangers

by Kat Martin

  “The smell?”

  “Sí. Like roses, only so strong I think I will suffocate right there in the bed.”

  “San Pico is famous for its roses. They’ve been growing them here for more than forty years. Occasionally, you are bound to smell them.” She clasped the young woman’s hand once more, felt how cold it was, felt it trembling. “You’re pregnant, Maria. When a woman is carrying a baby, sometimes her emotions get mixed up.”

  “They do?”

  “Yes, sometimes they do.”

  Maria glanced away. “I am not sure what is happening. Sometimes…sometimes it seems real. Sometimes I think…”

  “You think what, Maria?”

  “That mi casa es encantada.”

  Elizabeth spoke passable Spanish, had to in order to do her job. “You think your house is haunted? Surely you don’t believe that.”

  Maria shook her head, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I do not know what to believe. I only know that at night I am very afraid.”

  Frightened enough that she had been unable to sleep. “But you aren’t saying that you’ve actually seen a ghost.”

  She shook her head. “I have not seen it. I have only heard its voice in my head.”

  “Listen to me, Maria. Your house is not haunted. There are no such things as ghosts.”

  “What about Jesus? Jesus came back from the dead. He is called the Holy Spirit.”

  Elizabeth leaned back in the chair. She had been doing social work since she graduated from college. She had dealt with hundreds of unusual problems, but this was a first.

  “Jesus is different. He’s the Son of God and he isn’t haunting your house. Do you really believe there’s a ghost in your bedroom?”

  “There is a ghost—or I am going to die like my mother.” She started to cry again.

  Elizabeth rose from her chair. “No, you’re not,” she said firmly, stilling Maria’s momentary lapse into tears. “You are not going to die. But just to make sure there isn’t a tumor, I’m going to arrange for a visit to the clinic. Dr. Zumwalt can do a CAT scan. If there’s anything wrong, he’ll be able to tell.”

  “We do not have the money for something like that.”

  “The county will take care of it, if Dr. Zumwalt thinks the test needs to be done.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “No. They just take a picture of the inside of your head.”

  Maria rose from her chair. “You must promise not to tell Miguel.”

  “I won’t tell your husband. This is just between you and me.” She could only imagine what Miguel Santiago would say if he found out his young wife had started to believe their house was haunted.

  “We will go to the clinic tomorrow?”

  “I’ll have to make the arrangements. I’ll call you as soon as I know the date and time, then I’ll pick you up and take you there myself.”

  Maria managed an uneven smile. “Thank you.”

  “Raul is going to ask me if you’re all right.”

  “Tell him I am fine.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “I’ll tell him I’m taking you in for a checkup just to be sure you’re okay.”

  She nodded and flicked a glance toward the bedroom. “Tell him not to tell Miguel.”

  * * *

  Carson Harcourt drove up in front of the two-story stucco fourplex on Cherry Street, climbed out of his Mercedes and started up the walkway to apartment B. The area was quiet, the neighborhood one of the safest in town. He was only a few minutes late and he figured, at any rate, Elizabeth wouldn’t be ready when he got there.

  Women never were.

  A brisk rap on the door. He was surprised when a fully dressed Elizabeth Conners pulled it open.

  Carson’s gaze ran over her floor-length dark blue sequined gown and he found himself smiling. His spur-of-the-moment invitation to the benefit was nothing short of genius. He had noticed she was pretty, of course. He’d had a hunch, once she abandoned the boring but professional business suits she always wore, she would be far more than that.

  “You look gorgeous,” he said, meaning it. She was a little taller than average and slenderly built. As he assessed her curve-hugging gown, he saw that she had nice full breasts, smooth shoulders, a small waist and well-shaped hips.

  I should have done this sooner, he chided himself.

  “Thanks for the compliment. You look very dashing yourself, Carson.”

  He smiled. He’d always looked good in a tux. The black showed off his blond hair and blue eyes, and the single-button style set off the width of his shoulders. Too bad it was still so damned hot. He’d only been out of the air-conditioned car for a couple of minutes and already he was sweating inside the collar of his white pleated shirt.

  “Let’s get going. It’ll be cooler in the car.”

  Elizabeth nodded and took his arm. Carson led her toward his silver Mercedes and settled her in the passenger seat. The air conditioner blasted full force the moment he turned the electronic key in the ignition. It had been a while since he’d had time for female companionship. As he glanced over at Elizabeth, he thought that maybe it was time for that to change. He would see how well they dealt together tonight.

  The benefit was in full swing by the time they arrived. Carson led Elizabeth through the milling crowd, waving to a few friendly faces, heading toward the front of the room. He stopped at the no-host bar and ordered a glass of champagne for Elizabeth and a scotch-and-soda for himself. They made conversation with a few of the guests, Sam Marston, head of Teen Vision, Dr. and Mrs. Lionel Fox, one of the organization’s biggest contributors, a couple of high school counselors.

  “Elizabeth! I didn’t realize you would be here!” It was Gwen Petersen. She was there with her husband, Jim, district manager for Wells Fargo Bank, and apparently she was a good friend of Elizabeth’s.

  “I hadn’t planned to come until Carson was kind enough to invite me. I meant to call you. I’ve just been so busy.”

  Gwen’s gaze swung from Elizabeth to Carson, lingered there a moment as if she were contemplating the two of them together, then she smiled.

  “Well, what a nice idea.” She was a petite woman with red hair and attractive features. She and her husband had a couple of little boys, if he recalled correctly, and he usually did.

  Carson returned her smile. “I think it was a very good idea.”

  Gwen’s gaze returned to her friend. “I’ll call you the first of the week. We definitely need to have lunch.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “See you then.”

  It was nearly time to start the proceedings. Carson seated Elizabeth at the white-draped head table and took a seat beside her.

  The room began to quiet as the last of the guests took their places at the tables. The benefit was being held in the banquet room of the Holiday Inn, where most local occasions took place.

  Carson introduced Elizabeth to the other people seated at the front of the room, some of whom she knew, and they all conversed politely as dinner was served, the usual rubber chicken in some kind of dull brown gravy, lukewarm mashed potatoes and overcooked broccoli. Dessert followed, a decent chocolate mousse that managed to satisfy the holes in his appetite the scant meal had been unable to fill.

  Then the speeches began. Sam Marston talked about the progress they were making at the youth farm. John Dillon, one of the high school counselors, spoke about the opportunities the farm provided for troubled teenage boys. Carson was introduced last and received a big round of applause.

  He straightened his tuxedo jacket as he moved behind the podium. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It’s gratifying to see such a fantastic turnout for such a worthy cause.” More applause. He’d always liked the sound of it. “Sam told you a little about the farm. Let me tell you a little about the boys enrolled in Teen Vision.
”

  He began with a brief history of some of the youths who had graduated from the farm. By the time he had finished describing the tragedies suffered by some of the young men and how Teen Vision had changed their lives, the entire hall had fallen completely silent.

  “You’ve all been generous in your contributions. I hope you’ll continue to support the farm as you have in the past. Tonight we’ll be accepting donations. Just take your checks over to the table next to the door and Mrs. Grayson will give you a receipt you can use for your income taxes.”

  Everyone applauded vigorously and Carson sat back down next to Elizabeth.

  “You were wonderful,” she said, her pretty blue eyes shining. “You really painted a picture of what those boys have suffered.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a very worthwhile project. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

  She was looking up at him and smiling. He liked that in a woman, that she appreciated a man and let him know it. And he liked the way she looked in that dress, sexy yet classy. Not too overblown. With a little more money to spend on the suits she wore, she would even look good in those.

  “The band is starting to play,” he said. “Why don’t we dance?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I’d love to.” She rose from her chair and led the way to the dance floor. Carson watched the sway of her behind and smiled approvingly. Sexy but not too flashy, a good memory for names, he had discovered, and a decent conversationalist, as well.

  Interesting.

  A slow song began. He eased her into his arms and her hands slid up around his neck. They stepped into the music as if they had danced together a dozen times and he liked the way their bodies fit together.

  “You’re a very good dancer,” she said.

  “I try.” He thought of the ballroom dance lessons his mother had insisted he take when he was a boy. The effort was paying off now, as she had promised, though at the time he had hated every minute. “I’ve always loved to dance.”

  “So have I.” Elizabeth followed him easily, making him look even better than he usually did. Her waist was trim, her body firm beneath his hands. He had always found her attractive. He was surprised he had not given her more consideration before.

  Then again, his political ambitions had loomed further in the future. Recently, that had begun to change.

  The song ended. Carson followed Elizabeth off the dance floor, then both of them came to a sudden halt as a dark-haired man stepped in their way.

  “Well, look who’s here,” Carson drawled, staring into his brother’s gold-flecked brown eyes. Times changed, but some things didn’t. His feelings for Zach—or lack thereof—were one of them.

  * * *

  Elizabeth looked from Carson to the man standing toe-to-toe with him, dark-haired, dark-eyed. Unbelievably handsome. The realization hit her—she had seen this man at the barn. Though his face had been hidden behind a pair of wraparound sunglasses, it was the man she had seen working on the barn at Teen Vision. And now she knew why he had seemed so familiar.

  “I thought you weren’t coming,” Carson said to him, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. Elizabeth knew why. The man standing in front of her was Carson’s half brother.

  “I changed my mind.” Zachary Harcourt’s gaze moved to her and he flashed a smile that looked incredibly white against his dark skin. “Hello, Liz.”

  Her whole body stiffened. “Hello, Zach. It’s been a while.” But not long enough, she thought, remembering the last time she had seen him, remembering how drunk and insulting he had been, his eyes dilated from whatever drug he had been using at the time. She’d been a senior in high school, working part-time at Marge’s Café. “I didn’t know you were back in San Pico.”

  “I’m not. Not officially. Though I gather you’re living here now.”

  “I’ve been back for a couple of years.” She didn’t tell him she had seen him out at Teen Vision, but she silently questioned Carson’s judgment in allowing a man like his brother around a group of impressionable teenage boys.

  “Nice party,” Zach said, glancing around at the women in formal gowns, the men in tuxedos. “If you like rubber chicken and a band whose usual gig is the veteran’s hall.”

  “This is San Pico, not L.A,” Carson said stiffly, reaching up to adjust his black bow tie. “We’re here to raise money, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “After that tear-jerking little speech you gave, how could I possibly forget? Nice job, by the way.” Zach’s tux looked expensive, Italian, judging from the fabric and cut, Armani or maybe Valentino, designers who specialized in clothes for men with the lean, hard build of a fashion model.

  She wondered where he got the kind of money to buy clothes like that and thought maybe he had moved up to selling drugs these days. At least he no longer had the dazed look of a user.

  “Mrs. Grayson will be happy to take your check,” Carson taunted.

  Zach arched a sleek, nearly black eyebrow. “I’m sure she’d be willing to take yours, too.”

  Carson cast him a warning glance. There had never been any love lost between the two brothers. It looked like that hadn’t changed. “You said you weren’t coming. Why’d you change your mind?”

  Those dark eyes strayed toward Elizabeth. “I figured it would give me a chance to say hello to a few old friends.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Zach watched Liz Conners dancing again with his brother. She was better-looking than he remembered, a little taller, her figure nicely filled out. She hadn’t forgotten him, that was for sure. Those pretty blue eyes looked cold as stone whenever she glanced in his direction, which wasn’t all that often.

  It was remembering those eyes that had persuaded him to come. He used to have the major hots for Elizabeth Conners, but she was too smart to give him a second glance. She’d been right to stay away from him. Besides going after anything in skirts, he was a loser on the fast track to nowhere. Zach had been curious tonight to see how much Liz Conners had changed.

  Substantially, he thought as he studied her graceful movements on the dance floor. She was far more confident than she had been in high school, and even more attractive, yet she still seemed as easy to read. He could clearly read her dislike of him in every look she cast his way.

  Zach almost smiled. His interest in Liz had irritated his brother, as he had been certain it would. Perhaps that was the real reason he had come. He wondered how long the two of them had been dating, how heavily involved they were. He wondered if Liz Conners was sleeping with his brother and was surprised to realize it bothered him to think that she was.

  She laughed at something Carson said and he remembered that laugh from more than ten years ago when she had been working in the café. It was a feminine laugh, crystal clear and a whole lot warmer than her eyes.

  Zach turned away from the dancing couple and started for the door. Curiosity had motivated him to come. He’d had to have his personal assistant stop by his apartment and pick up his tux, had to have it couriered to San Pico to get here in time for the benefit.

  He had purposely arrived at the banquet late, missing dinner and all of the speeches except his brother’s. Grudgingly he admitted Carson had done a good job. The donations would be even higher than he had hoped.

  It galled him to be indebted in any way to his half brother, but when he thought of the kids at the farm it was worth it.

  “Hey, handsome. I didn’t know you were in town.” Madeleine Fox stood in front of him, long manicured nails curled around his black satin lapel. She was red-haired these days and looked pretty good that way.

  “I just came up for the weekend. I’ve got to be back in L.A. on Monday.”

  “That still leaves Sunday, right?”

  “I’m working out at the farm.”

  He had dated Mad
die in high school. She’d been the wildest thing in town. She was reformed now—mostly. Married to a doctor. But whenever she saw him, she always stopped to say hello, and the invitation was clear in her heavily made-up blue eyes.

  She ran a finger down his lapel. “You get bored, you know how to find me.” She had given him a note with her cell phone number on it when he had seen her at the gas station a couple of weeks ago.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He managed to smile and started walking. The last thing he needed was to get involved with a married woman. His black sheep reputation still haunted him in San Pico. He did his best to keep a low profile and except for Lisa Doyle, that included staying away from the town’s women.

  * * *

  It was Tuesday before Elizabeth could arrange an appointment for Maria with Dr. Zumwalt at the San Pico Clinic. Zumwalt, a tall thin man with iron-gray hair, was a professional, no-nonsense sort of man who understood the young woman’s fears, but refused to jump to conclusions.

  Elizabeth sat next to Maria in his office, a comfortably furnished room with plain white walls covered with eight-by-ten gold-framed degrees and awards.

  Zumwalt picked up the pen on his desk. “Before we go any further, Maria, I’d like to check a few things. To start with, I’d like to know if you’ve been seeing your gynecologist regularly.”

  “I go every three weeks to see her,” Maria said.

  “And your hormones are normal, nothing out of the ordinary as far as your blood tests are concerned?”

  The black-haired girl shook her head. “Dr. Albright says I am doing very well.”

  “All right, then. Let’s talk a little more about these hallucinations you’ve been having. You said you hear voices in your head. Is that correct?”

  Maria nodded. “Just one voice, a very small voice. It is soft and high, sort of like a child.”

  “I see.” He jotted something down on the sheet of paper on his clipboard. “And at times you say you feel as if you can’t breathe.”

  She swallowed. “Sí, that is true.”

  “I don’t think it’s time yet to worry, Maria. There is a good chance this is merely a case of Anxiety Disorder. In some cases, the symptoms can become extremely severe. Then again, with your mother’s history, it’s best not to take chances. We’ll do the CAT scan first. If we find the least suspicion that something might be wrong, we’ll follow up with an MRI.”