All That Sparkles: The Texan Quartet (18 page)

Imogen grinned. “Sounds like you’re busy.”

“Got to keep active at my age or I’ll wither and die.” She was matter-of-fact.

“Mom, I think the others are keen to meet Imogen,” Peter said.

She nodded. “Just one more thing.” She became serious and took both of Imogen’s hands. “I said some truly awful things when you were born. My only excuse was I was grieving for the loss of my only daughter and couldn’t move past that. It is horrific to lose a child, no matter what age they are.

“I don’t blame you for your mother’s death – I never did. It took me a long time to stop blaming your father, but I eventually did that too. Life is too short to hold onto your anger.” She took a breath. “I am so very sorry my grief prevented you from knowing your family, from meeting us. I won’t ask for forgiveness, but perhaps you will be able to understand.” Her grandmother’s hands shook as she squeezed Imogen’s hands.

There was no hesitation for Imogen. “Of course I forgive you. As you said, life’s too short and I want to get to know you all.” She hugged the woman.

“You are so sweet,” she said, her voice shaky. “Now, go and meet the rest of them and give me a few minutes to myself.”

Imogen was hesitant to leave the woman alone, she sounded so upset, but Peter gestured her to follow him.

The voices from the back of the house were still loud and Imogen clutched Christian’s hand for support.

Peter entered the kitchen, which held a man her age feeding a baby in a high chair and a couple of women, preparing lunch. The scent of the food wafted around Imogen and her stomach grumbled. It smelled very much like fried chicken and some type of spicy Mexican dish.

“Ingrid, Sadie and Trent, I’d like y’all to meet Imogen and Christian,” her uncle said as walked in. He turned to Imogen. “The little one is Kristy.”

Her aunt, Ingrid, wiped her hands on a dish towel and hurried over. “Lovely to finally meet you,” she said and gave Imogen a hug.

Trent gave a wave. “Howdy.” He kept feeding his daughter and Sadie, with her hands covered in batter, grinned and said, “I would hug you but …” She held up her hands.

Imogen smiled.

“Can I get you both a drink?” Ingrid asked. “We’ve got wine, beer, coke or iced tea.”

“Iced tea, please,” Imogen said and Christian asked for a beer.

“Have a seat,” Ingrid said as she indicated the table next to Trent and baby Kristy.

“Do you need a hand with anything?” Imogen asked.

“Oh, no. Today you’re a guest,” Ingrid said. “Next time is soon enough to get you working.” She laughed.

Next time. It meant a future with her mother’s family. Imogen grinned.

“Just don’t volunteer for the fried chicken batter,” Sadie suggested.

Imogen relaxed as they chatted casually about what they did, how the different sports teams were doing – this was something about which Imogen knew nothing but Christian was able to partake in some friendly arguing – and one by one the different members of the family came in from outside to meet Imogen.

She suspected they’d organized it this way so as not to overwhelm her, as the moment someone went back outside, another person took his or her place, ostensibly to get another drink, or check on how lunch was going.

Grandma came back into the kitchen not long after Imogen had and she went outside to join the others and to ‘tell them about their cousin.’

Imogen’s nerves faded as it became obvious these people genuinely wanted to welcome her as part of the family. They didn’t treat her like some kind of oddity but wanted to know more about her. By the end of lunch, she’d forgotten she’d only met these people today.

She insisted on helping with the dishes while Christian went out in the backyard to make up the numbers for a three-on-three game of basketball they were playing to work off all of the food.

“Imogen, you will come to my house for dinner on Thursday?” Grandma asked from where she sat at the kitchen table.

“I’d love to,” Imogen replied.

“Good. I’ll take you through the photo albums. You can bring your young man too if you like.”

“I’ll ask him.”

Grandma nodded in satisfaction.

Before she left Imogen swapped numbers and email addresses with her uncles, Cece, Sadie and her grandmother. Her male cousins didn’t do correspondence.

She walked back to the car, hand in hand with Christian.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Happy,” she said. “Exhausted, overwhelmed but happy. They’re all so nice, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for coming with me,” Imogen said and turned to him as they reached the car. She wrapped her arms around him. It felt right to have Christian next to her. He’d slotted in with her new family without a bump.

“You’re most welcome.”

As Christian started up the car he asked, “Where to now?”

“How about your place?” She didn’t want to go home yet. Didn’t want to run into her father until she worked out how she was going to tell him she would be spending time with her mother’s family. Because she was determined he wasn’t going to stop her.

“Sure.”

*

The next morning Imogen left early in order to meet her father for their usual Sunday brunch at Chateau Fontaine. She’d debated all the different ways she could tell her father about meeting the Ryders and still wasn’t sure which one was the best. She had to make sure whatever she said was about her needs and was nothing her father could turn and make about him.

At the guesthouse she showered and changed before walking through the garden to the chateau. The garden was one thing she was going to miss about moving to the new place, but she was determined she would make something from the plot of land she now called her own.

When she walked up the terrace her father was not yet outside, but Mrs. Povey had set out plates and cutlery. Imogen took a seat and waited. It wasn’t long before her father joined her, and Mrs. Povey brought out coffee for them both.

“How was your day yesterday,
ma bichette
?” her father asked.

“Lovely, Papa. How was yours?” She wanted to gauge his mood before she went into any detail.

“Oh, so so. There is much to do before you fly out to the fashion shows.”

That was a subject to deal with another day.

“Papa, I want to tell you something but I don’t want you to get angry at me.”

Her father raised an eyebrow. “I can never be angry at you,
ma bichette
.”

Imogen tried not to let her frustration show. “Papa, I’m serious. Will you promise to listen to everything I say?”

“Of course, of course.” He took a sip of his coffee.

“I told you I discovered Mama had a family,” she began.

Her father’s expression went from relaxed to hard in an instant. Imogen put a hand over his.

“I met with them yesterday. All of them. They’re very nice people and they were very sorry for what went on after Mama died.”

“Did they tell you what they said? Did they tell you what they called me?” His voice was tight and he removed his hand from under hers.

“Yes, Papa. Grandma Ryder said she regretted the words every day since she’d said them.”

“You are already calling her
grandma
?” His outrage was clear. “Words cannot be unsaid.”

“No, they can’t,” Imogen agreed. “But they can be forgiven, or at least moved past so life can continue.”

“They called me a murderer. They thought I had killed the one person I would have died for.” Raw emotion filled his voice and his hands clenched the table.

It had been twenty-nine years and yet her father sounded like it had happened yesterday. Wasn’t the hurt supposed to fade? “They did. They were grieving for the loss of Mama just as you were. It doesn’t excuse the words they said but it does explain them.”

“You wish to associate with people who would react this way?”

“Papa, I have cousins my age. Cousins who were babies or not yet born when Mama died. I’d very much like to spend time with them.”

His hands relaxed marginally. “Blake was a sweet boy,” he said. There was some warmth in his tone. “He loved his Auntie Frances.”

Imogen focused on the children. Her father couldn’t possibly blame them. “He’s a scientist now. His brother Trent is married and has his own baby, Kristy, who is cute as a button.”

“Their mother was a bitch,” her father said, his words sharp and the tension returning. “Always making Frances feel like a failure because she couldn’t conceive.”

Imogen disliked her without even meeting her. “Allen divorced her some years ago.”

Her father nodded, satisfied. He hesitated and then asked, “What about little Cece?”

“She’s an architect. She works for George’s dad, Hank.”

“The man who examined your house?”

Imogen nodded. “Peter has two other children, Sadie and Connor.”

“You have not mentioned your grandfather,” Remy said.

“He died several years ago,” Imogen told him.

There was satisfaction on her father’s face but Imogen ignored it. She didn’t know what had gone on between the two men and it didn’t matter now.

“Papa, I’m going to keep seeing my family,” she said softly.

His face hardened again. “I am your family,” he said. “I raised you, I took care of you, and I loved you when they did not.” His voice rose. “They are not your family.”

“Papa …” Imogen wasn’t sure how to diffuse the situation.

“
Non
. You will not see them again. They do not deserve you.”

The situation was rapidly getting out of control. “Papa, I would like to get to know them. Cece and Sadie are really nice.” She focused on her cousins, kept her voice gentle.

Her father’s face trembled with a series of emotions but then settled on unforgiving. “No. If you see them, you will not see me. I will have no association with those people.”

“Papa, please don’t do this.” She hadn’t really believed he would make her choose. “You don’t need to meet them.”

His gaze was steady, uncompromising. “Them or me.”

Imogen blinked back tears. How could he do this to her? How could he rip away the chance to have more family now, when she’d only just met them? She had to hope he would back down. She had to hope he was bluffing.

“I will have you both,” she said her voice as neutral as she could make it.

“
Non
.” He stood up. “If this is your decision, I expect you out of the guesthouse by the end of the day.” He walked away.

Imogen sat on the terrace, tears blurring her vision.

Was this more of his theatrics? Was he counting on her to back down as she’d done dozens of times before?

Anger slowly built in her chest. She was tired of it. She was tired of his threats, tired of living her life to suit him. He might be bluffing but she would call him on it. She got to her feet and strode across the garden.

If he wanted her out of the guesthouse, she would be out of the guesthouse.

She needed a bunch of boxes, a big car and a place to stay. She picked up the phone and debated who to call. She couldn’t very well invite herself to stay at Christian’s: he might freak out. She dialed Piper’s number.

“Can I stay at your place for a few nights?”

*

Piper had declared a packing frenzy. Imogen called Christian, Piper had called Libby and Christian had called George. They’d arrived within the hour, bringing with them boxes and a van George had borrowed from his father.

If Remy had noticed all of the cars arriving he didn’t come to investigate.

The moment Christian arrived he strode over to Imogen and gave her a hug. “It didn’t go so well?” he murmured.

“No. I can’t understand it.” Her heart ached especially when she saw all the boxes. She really was leaving her home. Her father was kicking her out.

“He’ll come to his senses, and in the meantime you’re staying with Piper.” He seemed relieved she had somewhere to go.

Imogen was being foolish, but part of her had hoped he would ask her to stay with him. But really, their relationship wasn’t at that stage yet.

She invited everyone into the living room, explained what had happened and her father’s reaction.

Christian sat next to her, with his arm around her, giving her strength.

“There’s not a lot that needs to be packed,” Imogen told them. “Everything in my sewing room, my clothes and a few knickknacks around the place. The rest was here when I moved in.” She had chosen some of the furniture but her father had insisted on paying for it so she wasn’t going to risk him accusing her of theft.

“Where are you going to store it?” Libby asked.

There wasn’t a lot of space at Piper’s apartment. “I’ll find a storage company tomorrow,” Imogen said.

“You can store it at my place,” George said. “The renovations are only just finished. I’ve got spare rooms I haven’t filled yet. There’s plenty of space.”

“That would be great. It’s just until I get the keys to my house.” It was such a relief to have friends to support her. She was so lucky.

“And you make the house livable,” Christian added.

Imogen didn’t contradict him. He didn’t need to know she was thinking of moving in straight away. She didn’t want to be a burden on Piper and she wasn’t entirely sure if her father would fire her from Tour de Force. She had to watch her money from now on.

She took Christian, George and Adrian into her sewing room.

The men glanced around the rows and rows of storage in her room. “This is all fabric?” Adrian asked, his eyes wide.

“Epic, isn’t it?” Christian commented.

“I was thinking obsessive,” George said with a grin and shook his head in disbelief.

“It’s not only fabric. There are also sequins, beads, fringing, buttons and thread,” Imogen told them. “I’ll pack up the table and the machines.”

“Are you sure you trust us with this stuff?” Christian asked.

“Of course. Be methodical. Everything is sorted in its own drawer. Put the drawers in order in boxes and you’ll be fine.”

She smiled and left them to it. Piper, Libby and Kate were in her bedroom, examining her walk-in robe.

“That’s a lot of clothes,” Kate breathed.

“I’ve packed a suitcase of what I should need in the next couple of weeks. The rest can go into boxes. Don’t worry about creases or anything. I can press it later.”

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on your wardrobe for years,” Piper joked.

“What are you going to do?” Kate asked.

“I’m going to pack up the knickknacks.” There weren’t many but only she knew which ones they were. “Do you want to help?”

“Sure.”

Imogen made up a box and went from room to room pointing out the things that were hers and Kate helped her wrap them and put them in the box. Each time a box was filled, it was labeled and put into the van.

It only took an hour for Kate and her to finish and by that stage Libby and Piper were almost done in the bedroom.

Imogen and Kate wandered into the sewing room, where the men were hard at work.

“I didn’t know fabric came in so many colors or types,” Adrian said.

“I didn’t want to know,” George grumbled.

Imogen laughed and packed up the items strewn across her table.

“This is so cool,” Kate said, looking around. “Is this where you made my dress?”

“Yep. I made all the dresses here.”

Kate wandered around, poking into drawers and cupboards. Imogen was happy to let her, not to mention happy she had so many friends who would cancel their Sunday plans to help her.

“How are you feeling?” Christian asked as he came over to her.

“Sad,” Imogen replied. “But kind of relieved as well.” She tried to explain. “I was going to be moving out soon anyway. Papa’s reaction just sped up the process. And I’m sure when he realizes I’m serious about this, he’ll come around.” She wasn’t nearly as sure as she pretended and she thought Christian knew it because he wrapped her in a hug.

“He’ll come to his senses.”

She hoped so.

*

By mid-afternoon Imogen felt like she was getting her life back under control. She wandered around the house, checking drawers and underneath cushions to ensure she hadn’t left anything important behind.

She was going to miss this place: not only the house but the grounds as well. Especially her secret garden.

“Kate, do you want to check out my tree house before you leave?” she asked. They were all gathered in the kitchen, having a drink.

Kate glanced at Adrian and back at Imogen. “If I’m allowed.”

“You can all come,” Imogen said. “You might not get the chance otherwise.” She smiled as she said it but the others understood what she meant.

They walked out along the path. Imogen held Chris’s hand and brushed her fingers over the foliage that edged the walkway. She’d spent hours in this garden, inventing games to play with imaginary friends, following Mr. Barker around so she could have company, tending to her little patch of soil.

She pushed through the gate and brought her friends into her secret garden. Piper had been there before and of course so had Christian but the others stared up at the tree house.

“Oh. My. Gosh,” Kate said, staring up at the wooden structure.

“It’s just like I remembered,” Christian murmured in her ear.

“Do you think we’ll still fit?” Piper asked.

Imogen nodded. “I was up there the other day. Do you want to go inside?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Kate said, her eyes wide.

“Follow me.”

She climbed up the ladder and pushed the trapdoor open. She went across and opened the bay window to admit some light as Kate climbed in.

“This is amazing,” Kate said, turning slowly around in a circle.

“Come upstairs.”

Imogen showed her upstairs and then the slide that ran around the trunk of the tree.

“Can I have a go?”

Imogen hesitated. “I’m not sure if it’s been cleaned lately,” she said.

George poked his head into the room. “I’ll give it a go!” His grin was wide.

“It might not be structurally sound,” Imogen said. The last thing she needed was to have someone hurt themselves.

“Let me check.”

He peered out of the hatch and tested the slide. “It’s been maintained. No spider webs, no leaf litter, no dirt.”

Then the gardener
had
been maintaining it.

“Hey, Ade,” George called down to Adrian on the ground. “Does the slide look secure to you?”

Adrian walked around the trunk of the tree before returning. “Yeah.”

“Get ready to catch me if I fall,” George joked and, before Imogen could stop him, he swung himself down the slide.

Imogen waited for the crack signaling the slide was going to break but all she heard was George whooping all the way down.

She laughed.

“Can I have a turn?” Kate asked, hopping from one foot to another.

Imogen stuck her head out and George gave her the thumbs up. “It’s all good.”

“Go for it.”

Kate needed no further encouragement and she squealed all the way down.

Imogen smiled. She hadn’t heard sounds like that in her tree house since she and Piper were teenagers.

“Move over, it’s my turn.”

Speak of the devil. Piper pushed her out of the way and went zooming down the slide, laughing all the way.

Christian was right behind her. “It hasn’t changed at all,” he said. “That’s where I sat and wanted to kiss you,” he said, pointing to a beanbag.

“And that’s where I sat, hoping you were going to kiss me.” Imogen pointed to the beanbag next to it.

“Want to rewind time?” he asked, pulling her over and down on to the beanbags.

Imogen laughed. “Absolutely.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

With a growl he pulled her onto his lap.

“Whoops, sorry!” Libby’s voice came from over by the door.

Imogen broke the kiss and glanced over. She grinned at Libby and then noticed Kate behind her, an expression of shock and hurt on her face as she stared at Christian in disbelief.

Kate pushed past Libby and ran for the slide, her eyes already tearing up.

Imogen realized the reason for the tears as Kate disappeared down the slide. “Oh no.” She got to her feet, shaking off Christian’s attempt to keep her on the beanbags.

“What’s wrong?” Libby asked.

“Kate saw us kiss,” Imogen told her.

“She knows what kissing is,” Libby said.

“Yes, but she’s got a crush on Christian.”

Both Libby and Christian stared at her as if she’d grown another head. “I saw the expression on her face. I need to go and talk with her.” Imogen slid down the slide and looked around for Kate. She was disappearing through the gate.

“Kate, wait!”

Imogen trotted after her. When she reached her, Kate was in tears.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I didn’t realize you liked Christian.”

“It’s just like Libby was with Uncle Ade, except he liked her back. Chris likes you instead of me.”

“Chris likes you too.”

“He bought me flowers,” she cried. “But it didn’t mean anything to him.”

“Of course it did. It meant he was thinking of you.” Imogen paused. She wasn’t sure how to phrase the next bit.

“But not in the same way. He doesn’t like me the way he likes you,” Kate said.

“No.” She couldn’t lie to the girl. “Christian and I have known each other for years. We have a different kind of relationship.”

Kate sniffed. “I’m too young, aren’t I?”

Imogen didn’t think so: she’d been obsessed with Christian since she’d been a teenager. “Christian’s too old for you, but you are plenty old enough to know your own feelings.”

“I’m such an idiot.” She turned to Imogen. “He’s going to think I’m a silly little girl.”

Imogen held out her arms to hug her. “I’m not sure he realized you were upset.” She made a note to tell Christian. “I noticed your reaction and then you were down the slide so fast I don’t think he saw your face.”

“You won’t tell him?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

Kate shook her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She gave a big sigh. “How do I look?”

“Why don’t you go back to the guesthouse and wash your face? It’s time we left anyway.” They needed to unload her boxes before it got dark. “I’ll go and get the others.”

Kate nodded and wandered back along the path.

Imogen felt sorry for the girl. It was hard liking someone who didn’t like you back.

She pushed open the gate and found the others waiting at the bottom of the tree house.

“How is she?” Libby asked.

“She’s all right. I told her Christian didn’t see she was upset and she’s happy about that.”

“Shouldn’t I say something to her?” Christian asked.

“Best not,” Imogen said. “She’d be mortified if she thought you knew. I’ve sent her back to the guesthouse to wash her face but we should all be going.”

“I’ve locked up the tree house,” Piper said.

“Thanks.”

The others walked out, giving Imogen some time alone. She glanced up at her tree house. She’d spent many days up at that window, pretending to be a princess and hoping her prince would come and rescue her from her boredom.

Then one day Christian had come, like a knight in a fairy tale, and after a perfect couple of weeks, disappeared again.

And it had been her father’s fault.

He’d prevented her from having friends and taken away the one friend she
had
made.

Anger mixed with her sadness as she turned away from her garden. She had to live her own life; she couldn’t continue to let him rule over her.

She walked back to the guesthouse, where the others were waiting for her. “I’ll return the key to the house and meet you at George’s,” she said.

Christian stepped over to her. “Do you want me to wait?”

She did, but she also wanted to do this on her own. She didn’t want to go from allowing her father rule her life to letting herself rely on Christian. She smiled her thanks. “No. You go with George. I’m hoping by the time I arrive, you’ll have done all the heavy lifting.”

He smiled but he was still concerned. She kissed him. “I’ll be fine.”

She waited until they had all left before getting in her car and driving down to Chateau Fontaine. She parked behind the house and went through the kitchen door. There was no one in there so she made her way through the house to her father’s wing. At this time of day he’d probably be in the library. She found him sitting behind his desk and she knocked on the door.

He looked up, but said nothing.

“Papa, I have moved my things out of the guesthouse, as you requested,” she said, nerves building in her stomach as he continued to look at her coolly.