All That Sparkles: The Texan Quartet (17 page)

“Do you want me to go with you tomorrow to meet your uncle?”

Imogen looked up at him. “Christian, what’s going on? We spent a great weekend together, we had sex and then I didn’t hear from you. You didn’t call me back or answer my emails. The text you sent was vague at best. I thought maybe you wanted a fling but now you offer to go and meet my uncle with me.” She sighed. “It doesn’t add up. I don’t know where I stand.”

Chris cursed. “I’m so sorry, Imi. You’re right. I thought I’d sent you an email, but I found it in my drafts folder just before I left work today.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot but there was never a good time to call.”

She held her head high and met his gaze. “I don’t want you to feel obligated in any way. If you’re not interested just say so. I can meet my uncle on my own.”

He shook his head and drew her closer. “Of course I’m interested. Work was hell this week and it was late before I finished. I didn’t want to call and wake you up. Your message brightened my day.” He wanted to take away her hurt. “I missed you this week and I was an idiot not to make the time to contact you.”

She didn’t look like she believed him.

“I can only imagine how hard it will be meeting your uncle after all of this time. I want to be there for you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

He hated that he’d put any doubt in her mind. Hated that he had taken her for granted. “Yes. Come home with me, Imi.” He kissed her and she responded. “Please. I want to be with you.”

Her smile was a little more certain this time. “All right.”

Relief flooded him. He couldn’t mess this up. She was the best thing in his life.

*

Imogen parked her car in one of the guest parking spots and got an overnight bag out of the trunk. “I was going to stay at Piper’s,” she explained.

She should have been planning on staying at his place. He should have known Piper had found her family. He took her bag from her and carried it up to his apartment. They were silent the whole way and nerves began to settle over Chris’s skin. He couldn’t allow work to get in the way of this. If he’d blown it with Imogen he didn’t know what he’d do.

No, he couldn’t have. She wouldn’t be here if he had.

He hoped.

Imogen sat down on the couch. “So how was your week?” she asked.

He didn’t want to talk about his week, didn’t want to talk about work, but he needed to explain to her why he hadn’t called. “The business wants to buy a UK company. We’ve had a lot of overnight meetings I’ve had to attend which means being awake at two in the morning.”

“Sounds important.”

He shrugged. “It is for them. There was a lot of documentation to go through and I had to do it in UK business hours.”

“You don’t sound like you’re enjoying your work.”

“Not at the moment.” He couldn’t remember the last time he enjoyed it.

“So why don’t you find a different job? I’m sure someone with your experience would be in high demand.”

He’d have to prove himself at another company, start at the bottom and work his way up again. He really didn’t want to do that, not when he was so close to the top. And there were no guarantees it would be any different. “Better the devil you know,” he said.

Imogen frowned at him but he didn’t want to go into that right now.

“Tell me about your week.”

The sigh that came out of Imogen was full of sadness, confusion and exhaustion. He pulled her close to him, needing to hold her and she relaxed back into his arms.

“On Monday it really hit me how unfulfilling my job at Tour de Force was.”

Chris frowned. “What do you mean?”

She explained what Jacques had said and how she’d critically examined her role.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’ve been working on the business plan again,” she said. “But before I do anything I need to figure out how to deal with Papa.”

“He’s still threatening to disown you?”

“I haven’t spoken to him about it. He believes I’ve dropped it. But Piper thinks she knows why he’s acting that way.” She told him what she’d discovered about her past and her maternal family.

Chris hugged her closer. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Imi.” She’d been in a world of hurt and confusion and his only excuse for not being available was work.

“Piper was there.”

And didn’t that make him feel like a failure? “So tomorrow you’re meeting your uncle, Peter?”

She nodded and tensed.

He rubbed her arms. “Where?”

“We agreed to meet at a coffee shop not far from where he lives. I’m still not sure of the reaction I’m going to get so I didn’t want to go to their house.”

It was a good idea. Piper could have got the wrong impression or the man might be hiding a grudge. At least he’d be by her side to protect her.

“I’m nervous,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

“Of course you are.” He turned her so she was facing him. “But he can’t possibly not like you.”

She gave a small smile. “It’s been almost thirty years. It’s a long time to be stewing over the past.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.” It was getting late, so he pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, trying to convey his positive thoughts to her. When he pulled away he said, “Let’s get some sleep.”

He led her into his bedroom and kissed her deeply before undressing her and helping her into bed. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to protect her. Show it wasn’t about the sex. Getting in the other side he pulled her close to him and they fell asleep.

Imogen woke to strange surroundings but the warm body beside her was familiar. This was a much nicer way to wake up than having her father yell at her. She smiled as she turned over to face Christian.

He opened his eyes. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” She ran a hand down his arm, to his hip. She was pleased they’d cleared up their issues the night before.

“Have we got time for that this morning?” he asked with a grin.

All at once she remembered what she was doing today. Meeting her uncle. She caught sight of the clock against the wall. It was almost eight. She sighed. “No.”

Christian got out of bed and walked around to her side. He held out a hand. “Let’s have a shower instead.”

She admired his body as she followed him to the bathroom. His shoulders were well defined and his butt was rounded in a way that made her want to squeeze it.

Chris turned on the shower and pulled her in. The water washed over the two of them and he pulled her close, pressing his body against hers and making her aware he was wide awake in all areas.

She slid her hands lower and he took a breath in. “Imi, we don’t have time.”

She grinned, wanting to touch him. “Maybe we do.” She wanted to forget for a moment what the day was going to bring. She got to her knees.

*

Imogen smiled with satisfaction as she washed, stepped out of the shower and grabbed one of the towels. She dried herself quickly so she wouldn’t get distracted by Christian again and wandered naked back to his room to get dressed. As she pulled on her pants she called, “We need to leave in five minutes.”

“Right behind you,” Christian said and stood there in his naked glory. She looked him up and down and smiled.

“Keep looking at me like that and we might not make your appointment,” he said with a smile.

He was right. She didn’t want to give her uncle a bad first impression.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” she said.

As she peered into his fridge to find something to eat, her stomach did a flip-flop with nerves and she closed the door. She could get something at the coffee shop if her stomach decided to behave.

“Ready to go?” Christian asked as he walked into the room.

She nodded and grabbed her bag from where she’d left it on the couch the night before.

*

The trip to the coffee shop took about twenty minutes. Imogen didn’t talk. She kept her mind busy running through all the possible ways this meeting could go. Her legs wouldn’t stay still and she tapped her foot against the floor of the car.

“Do you know what he looks like?” Christian asked as he pulled up.

“Piper took a photo when she met him.” Imogen showed him a picture of a man in his fifties whose hair was the same shade as Imogen’s with the addition of a whole heap of gray.

Getting out of the car, she took hold of Christian’s hand and checked the time. Five to nine. She wasn’t late. When she walked into the coffee shop she scanned the people sitting and saw the man stand up from a booth on the side and raise a hand, his whole body language hesitant. She recognized him from the photo. Her uncle.

“Over there,” she said to Christian. She took a deep breath before smiling at the man and walking over to him, ignoring her rapidly beating heart. She hesitated. What did she call him?

“Uncle Peter?” It felt right as she said it and the huge smile he gave her was worth it. His eyes welled with tears.

“Yes, Imogen. How are you?”

“I’m well.” They stood awkwardly for a second and then Imogen slid into the booth. “This is my friend, Christian.”

Peter shook Christian’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” He was enthusiastic.

There was silence while they got settled and Imogen wondered what to say.

“You look so much like your mother.” There was a little sorrow in his tone.

She smiled; she liked that she had something of her mother in her, since she couldn’t remember the woman.

“I don’t know where to start,” Peter admitted, holding up his hands.

“Neither do I. Perhaps you could tell me about your children.” It was too early to go into what had happened to make the family split like it did.

He grinned and pulled over a book she hadn’t noticed on the table. He flipped it open and she saw photos. Family photos.

Her heart tugged.

“I’m married – thirty-five years now! My wife is Ingrid and we have three great kids, all grown up. Cecily is thirty, Sadie is twenty-eight and Connor is twenty-five.” He showed her pictures of her cousins.

She stared at the photos. Ingrid had blond hair and both Sadie and Connor had inherited it. Cecily had the same dark coloring as Imogen. These were her family.

A waitress came to take their order and she had a moment of respite. When she was gone, Imogen asked, “What do they do?” It was hard to talk through the lump in her throat.

Christian squeezed her hand.

“Cece is an architect, works for Jones Construction. Sadie is a teacher at the local primary school and Connor’s still working out what he wants to do.” There was a lot of pride in the man’s voice.

“Jones Construction is Hank’s company,” Christian said.

“You know Hank Jones? He’s a great guy,” Peter said.

Christian nodded. “He’s my friend George’s father.”

Imogen was amazed. How long would it have been before she would have run into Cece at some social function or other? “Do they know about me?”

“Yeah. We kept tabs on you, whenever you were mentioned in the news. We told them what happened. None of us realized you didn’t know about us, though, until your friend Piper contacted me.”

What must they have thought of her? “No, I didn’t.” She wanted to know more. “What about my other uncle?”

“Allen’s the good-looking one.” Peter laughed as if it were a running joke. “He’s got two kids and is divorced now. His boys are Blake and Trent; they’re thirty-one and twenty-nine respectively. Blake’s a scientist and Trent is a stay-at-home dad. He’s got baby, Kristy, who’s going to be one in a couple of weeks.”

Cousins – and second cousins.

“Do they all know you’re meeting with me?” How did they feel about her now? Did they think she was some stuck-up snob who didn’t want to be seen with them because they weren’t wealthy?

He nodded. “We had a bit of an argument because they all wanted to come but I thought it might be a bit overwhelming for you. It can be a bit boisterous when we all get together.”

They all wanted to come? They were all excited to meet her? It was unbelievable. She’d gone from having only a father to having a whole family who wanted to meet her. Imogen sniffed, to keep the tears in. “And my grandmother?”

Peter sobered and Imogen braced herself. “Well, we haven’t told her about you yet. We wanted to make sure you wanted to meet her before we told her the news. She’s getting on, you see, and we didn’t want to disappoint her.”

She understood. They were protecting her. She couldn’t blame them. She took a sip of the coffee. “I would like to meet her. I’d like to meet all of my family.”

Peter beamed at her. “They’ll be mighty happy to hear that.”

Imogen hesitated and then asked, “Uncle Peter, can you tell me what happened when my mother died?”

He frowned. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yes, but whatever happened stopped me from knowing you all existed until a couple of weeks ago.”

He sighed. “I was about your age when it all happened. Frances and Remy were besotted with each other. They were desperate for children, before Remy got much older.” He sipped his drink. “Franny had a couple of miscarriages so she was real careful with you. Your father hired a cook and a housekeeper to look after the house.”

“Were you friends with Papa?”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say friends. We only saw each other on social occasions and he was much older than I was. I would say we had a common interest in loving your mother, but I did like him.”

“So what happened?”

“After you were born everything seemed fine. She was recovering well and you were a healthy baby. Then a day later she was struggling to breathe and died within minutes. They found out later it was a deep vein thrombosis. Apparently it can be common with pregnancies.” He sighed and slumped his shoulders. “Mom and Dad were distraught. She was their little girl. Everyone was upset and people said things in the heat of the moment, things that shouldn’t have been said.”

Imogen waited for him to elaborate and when he didn’t, she asked, “Like what?”

He paused for a long moment. “They blamed the pregnancy and your father. Said she was dead because of you.”

Imogen sat back and Christian put his arm around her.

“They didn’t mean it. They were so upset and they both regretted it ever since,” Peter said. “Your father was of course furious and swore we would never have to see either of you again. Allen and I tried to smooth things over but your father wouldn’t speak with us. We had no idea what you were told. Over the years we tried contacting you, but could never get through your father. Then when you got older we figured you’d contact us if you wanted to see us.”

Imogen could understand a bit more now. Her father thought he was protecting her from people who hated her.

It made sense.

Peter watched her anxiously. “Do you understand?”

She reached out and covered his hand with her own. “Yes, I do.” It was a case of two families grieving over the death of one person. She couldn’t be held responsible for her mother’s death. She hadn’t chosen to be born, but, oh, how sad she was that words said in grief all those years ago were still resonating today. It was time to heal those hurts.

“When do you think I can meet the family?”

Peter’s shoulders rounded and a light flush lit his cheeks. “We’re having a family lunch today,” he said. “Everyone wanted to hear about meeting you and so we arranged to get together. You’re both welcome to come.”

Today. Was she ready for that?

She glanced at Christian.

“Whatever you want to do,” he said, hearing her unasked question.

What the hell. “We’d love to.”

Peter beamed at her. “I’ll give them all a call.”

*

A couple of hours later Imogen was questioning what she’d got herself into. They’d left the coffee shop after agreeing to go to lunch so Peter could tell the family and visit his mother to break the news. She and Christian had taken a walk along the bayou to kill some time and walk off some of the nerves skating around her body.

“We’ll stay for as long as you’re comfortable,” Christian said. “Just give me the word when you’re ready to leave and I’ll come up with an excuse.”

“Thank you.”

They pulled up in front of a modern, cream brick house that had a well-manicured lawn and pretty roses in the garden bed.

There were already cars in the driveway and all up and down the street. She was meeting a grandmother, two uncles, an aunt, five cousins and any associated partners and children they had.

“Ready?” Christian asked.

She huffed out a breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

They walked up the path and knocked on the front door. From inside there were voices calling and the sound of laughter. She was debating whether she should knock again when a voice behind her said, “They’ll never hear you knock over that racket.”

Imogen turned to the dark-haired woman behind her, who she recognized from one of Peter’s photographs.

“I’m Cece, and you must be Imogen.”

“Yes.”

Before she could decide what to do, Cece hugged her. “Nice to finally meet you.” She smiled and walked to the front door. “Come in and I’ll introduce you to the clan.”

She was so matter-of-fact, so welcoming. Imogen hadn’t quite expected that. She shot a look at Christian, who nodded at her, and she followed Cece into the house. Peter was coming down the hallway with his arm around an older woman who had to be Imogen’s grandmother.

Imogen froze as she waited for the woman to notice her, taking in her still dark, permed hair, her neatly pressed gray slacks with a bright pink shirt, and the laughter lines at the corners of her eyes. This was her grandmother.

“Hi, Dad; hey, Grandma. Look who I found on the doorstep.” Cece stepped back.

Imogen’s grandmother put a hand to her mouth. Tears pricked her eyes. “Imogen?”

Imogen moved forward, drawn to the woman. “Hello, Grandma.” She went with her instinct and hugged her.

The old woman’s arms shook as they circled Imogen and hugged her fiercely. “I never thought I’d live to see the day,” she whispered.

Tears welled up in Imogen’s eyes.

“How about we go into the living room for a moment before you meet the others?” Peter suggested. “Cece, tell your mother we’ll be in shortly.”

Cece nodded, smiled and left the room.

Imogen helped her grandmother down onto the sofa and then sat next to her. Christian and Peter remained standing at the door.

Her grandmother clung to her as if she was afraid Imogen would disappear. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said. “Tell me about yourself.”

Where did she start? “I work with Papa at Tour de Force,” she said. “I oversee a whole range of things there.” None of which excited her. “My best friend Piper is the woman Uncle Peter met. She’s a journalist.”

“What do you do for fun?”

It was a good question. “I go to the movies, design clothing, meet with my friends.” She paused.

“Don’t you design clothing as a job?” Peter asked.

Imogen shook her head. “Not very often. There are other designers at Tour de Force and the stuff I design isn’t really suited to the label.”

“And what about this young man?” Grandma asked, indicating Christian. She’d relaxed her hold on Imogen’s arm and was less teary.

“Christian is my boyfriend.”

The older woman turned to him. “Do you take care of her?” she demanded.

“I try to, ma’am,” he said. “I haven’t been doing too good a job lately but I’m going to improve.”

She harrumphed. “See that you do.”

Imogen forced down a smile. She liked her. “What do you do for fun, Grandma?”

“Well I go salsa dancing on a Monday, play cards on Tuesday, help in the church community group on Wednesday, wrangle one or more of the children or grandchildren over for dinner on Thursday and have singing lessons on Friday.”