Daughter of Deceit (7 page)

As she locked the door again she remembered Carlene’s key. Did the whole world have keys to the house? She’d gotten Foley’s back—that was one thing Uncle Scotty had accomplished—but Uncle Scotty still had his, Murdoch probably had one from when she used to come to Nana’s after school, and Carlene had one. How many other servants had taken keys when they left? For all she knew, all of Nana’s living servants still had keys as well.

Bara checked outside doors to be sure they were locked, rammed chairs under each knob, and armed the security system with furious fingers. Feeling marginally more secure, she stomped to the library, flung her purse on a chair, and headed for the desk telephone. “I’m going to change every lock in this blessed house!”

She stood helpless with the phone in her hands. She could not afford to change her locks.

The receiver beeped a muted busy signal, announcing she had voice messages. She might as well check them, then she’d have that drink and take a nap.

She’d had three callers.

Ann Rose said, “You forgot your groceries. Call me when you get home and Francie will bring them over.”

Payne said, “Hi, Mom. Just checking in to be sure you are okay.”

Maria Ortiz cried, “
¡Querida!
”
My dear!
“Are you all right? I hope you are simply on one of your fabulous trips, but I have not seen you for two weeks, and I am worried. Call me.”

Bara’s hand hovered over the button to call Maria back, but she slammed her fist on the desk and hung up the phone.

In the kitchen, she filled a tumbler to the brim, tossed back half of it, refilled the glass, and carried both glass and bottle as she climbed three flights to the attic. She searched dim corners until she found a box labeled C
OLLEGE
S
TUFF
. The box was covered with dust, the sealing tape gold and brittle. Inside, wrapped in felt pennants that used to decorate her dorm room, she found a silver gun. Winnie had bought it for her when she was in college and had insisted on teaching her how to use it. She had carried it faithfully until she married Ray, but had soon realized that with his volatile temper, she was in more danger with a gun than without one. For years it had been hidden in the attic.

She lifted it out and sighted along the barrel with a desperate whisper. “How did I get to this place?”

She found bullets for the gun in the bottom of the box and loaded it as Winnie had taught her. She carried it downstairs, then stood uncertain what to do with it. Should she carry it in her purse? Didn’t you need a permit nowadays to carry a gun? Where did you get a permit? Were the bullets still good? Did they wear out with age?

By then she had drunk three glasses of whiskey and was weary beyond endurance. “I’ll think about all that later.” She laid the gun on the dining-room table, strode to the powder room and took two pills to make her sleep, downing them with whiskey.

She returned to the hall and stood frowning at the Monet. “I really ought to increase the insurance on that thing,” she muttered, then gave an unfunny laugh. “With what? But I ought to at least take it to the storage unit until this mess is over.”

She stared at the misty scene and knew she couldn’t bear to take it down. It had hung there as long as she could remember. She and Nana used to stand and admire it together.

“Putting it in storage would be like losing Nana all over again!” she cried.

But she wouldn’t put it past Foley to steal it—or send Carlene to do it.

“Slut! What am I going to do?”

The pain was a physical thing, racking her whole body. She collapsed into a chair in the foyer and sobbed.

Gradually the whiskey and pills began to take effect. The Monet was another thing she would think about later. At the moment, all she wanted to do was fling herself down on the leather sofa in the den and get some sleep.

Posey pulled into Katharine’s drive and brightened to see the black Lexus parked at the front walk. “Tom’s home early!” She obviously thought he was inside pouring wine for a romantic afternoon tryst.

Posey seemed convinced that Katharine and Tom spent the few hours they had together each week making passionate love, feeding each other frosted grapes, and giving full body massages. Katharine suspected that Posey—married to a large, comfortable man who looked like his passion meter never rose above two on a ten-point scale—projected on her brother and his wife all her own romantic fantasies.

More experienced in what her husband considered romantic, Katharine eyed the car with a jaundiced eye. Tom never parked outside the garage unless he had to go out again soon. She hurried up the steps, wondering what was wrong.

She nearly stumbled over several large boxes left beside her front door, and bent to read the labels. “Oh, no!” They contained a set of china and a set of silver flatware for twelve, which she and Tom had purchased to replace what had been stolen or smashed. They must have been delivered after Tom got home.

She picked up the box of silver and struggled inside, dreading what he would say if he found out that thousands of dollars’ worth of merchandise had been left on their veranda. He had instructed her not to sign permission for deliveries to be left outside when they weren’t home. Could she get them inside to her study without him hearing her?

She set down the silver beside her computer desk and went for the china, but the boxes were too heavy for her to lift.

“Tom?” she called as she closed the front door behind her. “Are you here?” She braced herself for his displeasure.

“In the library,” he called back. Did he sound a little uneasy, too?

Katharine was so accustomed to silence in the house that another voice was a pleasant change, but not all that she heard was pleasant. From the kitchen came the wails of an unhappy cat. She hurried to open the door and Phebe, the smaller of her two calicos, streaked across the hall and into Tom’s library.

“Did you shut the cat in the kitchen?” she demanded at the door of the room.

“Sure. You know I don’t want her in here.” He carried the squirming cat to the door and dumped her in Katharine’s arms.

She carried the cat and followed him back into the library, stroking the irate little animal to calm her. Maybe it was the result of everything she’d been wanting to say to Posey about her driving and hadn’t, compounded by anger at the delivery company for dropping heavy, valuable boxes on her doorstep as if they were junk mail, further compounded by her worry that Tom would be angry, but for whatever reason, she opened her mouth and surprised them both.

“If you lived here all the time, you could set boundaries where the cats are concerned, but since you are usually here two days a week and Phebe’s here seven, I think that gives her squatter’s rights, don’t you? She doesn’t hurt a thing, she’s fully house trained, and she doesn’t climb your shelves. She merely likes to sleep on the rug by your fireplace. I think she’s come to regard it as her own. So have I.”

Katharine loosened her grip, and Phebe leaped from her arms. The cat stalked past Tom with a haughty tail in air and curled herself on the small Oriental.

Tom looked from Katharine to the cat and back again with a startled expression. “I see.” He walked over to the shelf and chose a book, held it for a second with his back to her, then started for his desk. He paused by the rug on his way back to his briefcase. “Okay, Phebe, the rug is yours. May I keep rights to the desk?” He stroked her gently and gave Katharine a rueful grin.

She was shocked by the unaccustomed taste of victory.

In his job, Tom was famous for logical reasoning and working out compromises. He was also famous for never speaking without thinking first. Those were some of the things that made him excellent at what he did. At home, though, she had always catered to his preferences. She had believed it was what a good wife did. After all, he had enough conflict to deal with in his job, and was home too seldom to need hassles during the time he was there.

This quick win opened up all sorts of possibilities.

“How was your meeting?” he asked.

She blinked, needing a second to remember where she had been. “Good. Ann Rose got a number of volunteers, including Posey.”

“Posey? She went?”

“She drove me—in a new red convertible Wrens bought yesterday for her birthday.”

“Her birthday’s not until next month.”

“I know. She hopes he’ll forget the car by then.”

Tom looked her up and down. “And you came home in one piece? Amazing.”

“There were a couple of times when I figured you’d have to order a coffin, but we survived.” Enough banter. “Are you going somewhere?”

He hesitated. She knew that look. Tom hated to disappoint anybody, especially her. “Sorry, hon. I’ve got real good news and sorta bad news. Which do you want first?”

“The good news isn’t anything like a terrific trip that means you are going to be out of town for our party, is it?” She couldn’t keep a tremor out of her voice.

“I am committed to be here for the party. I promised. But that’s two weeks away. The
bad
news is that some senators are squabbling right now and we’re caught in the middle. I need to go up and sort things out. I’ll fly back Thursday night and take off Friday so we can have a long weekend to tie up loose ends. And I’ll come home the following Thursday, too. I promise. But I do have to go to Washington this week.” He went to the shelves to choose another book. Tom never went anywhere without several things to read.

Katharine was so disappointed that her legs wouldn’t hold her. She sank into the closest chair and tried to figure out why. She was used to his rhythmic coming and going, had even been disconcerted when he’d announced the past Friday that he would be working in his Atlanta office for a week. Accustomed to setting her own schedule from Monday through Friday, she had mentally checked her calendar and been frustrated because she had several evening engagements that would conflict with the hour he preferred dinner. Used to casual meals, she had inventoried the freezer and found it sadly lacking. She had spent Saturday morning shopping for groceries when she needed to be working on the house.

So why should she feel so let down to hear he was going away?

Because it was awfully easy to get used to having him around.

He came over and sat in the matching chair, misunderstanding her silence. “I’ve already done everything I was supposed to for the party.” He consulted the latest technological gadget he used to keep track of his life.

While he punched tiny buttons, Katharine remembered the day they’d chosen the first leather armchairs, those that had been slashed by the vandals.

“We’ll spend long evenings together by the fire when I retire,” Tom had promised.

When he’d gotten home and found them ruined, he had gone out immediately to buy new ones. However, while Katharine appreciated his sentiment, she knew good and well that he wasn’t likely to retire anytime soon. He wasn’t yet fifty, and very good at what he did. His ability to meet with warring parties and bring them to compromise was legendary in Washington, and one of the things Katharine admired about him. It was a rare and precious skill in this contentious world, and one of the reasons he earned enough money to keep his family in the style to which they were accustomed. If the only way he could do what he did best was to be away a lot, she could deal with that. She had. But now that the children were gone, she seemed to miss him more than she had before.

She realized he was listing what he’d done about the party.

“…and I had Brandi reconfirm with the tent folks this morning. They’ll be here early next Friday to set up. She checked with the chairs and tables people, too. They will come Friday around noon. While I was at it, I had her call and reconfirm the tablecloths and dishes, so you don’t need—”

“Dishes!” she yelped. “Drat, I forgot. Our new china is sitting in boxes outside the front door. Apparently it was delivered while I was out.”

“It wasn’t here when I arrived. I never signed for it, either.”

“They must have rung the bell. Didn’t you hear it?”

“I ate a quick sandwich on the back patio. But they should have taken it away and left a message.” He gave her a penetrating look. “You haven’t given blanket permission for them to leave things out there when you aren’t here, have you?”

Buoyed by her earlier victory and angry that he was leaving when he’d said he’d be home, she lifted her chin. “Yes, I have. If they leave a message, I have to call to schedule another delivery, then stay home to wait for it. That’s too much trouble.” When he didn’t reply, she added in a gentler tone, “The house is a long way from the street, Tom, and besides, we seldom have deliveries this valuable. Will you carry it in?”

He rose, his lips stiff with disapproval. “Where do you want it?”

“Put it on the kitchen counter. I’ll need to wash it before I put it away.”

“Can’t Rosa wash it? She’s coming tomorrow and would be glad to do it.” Tom had grown up in a house where the maid did everything. After twenty-five years he was still puzzled by Katharine’s casual participation in housekeeping.

“Why are you trying to decide who washes the china when you won’t even be here?” she demanded.

He blinked, unaccustomed to attack.

She was instantly contrite. They were grouchy because neither of them wanted this sudden change in their schedule.

She defused the conflict with a laugh. “Rosa
could
do it. She’s glad to do anything to get out of cleaning. But you know as well as I do that deftness is not one of her gifts. If anybody breaks a piece, I’d rather it was me. So set it on the counter, muscle man. I’ll have time to wash it after you’ve gone.”

She waited in the chair while he carried in the boxes, treasuring up the small sounds he made so she could carry those bits of him through the next few days. He came back consulting the small screen in his palm. “To pick up where we left off, Brandi has confirmed that the dishes are coming Thursday. I’ll have Louise call the liquor store from Washington, but they already know what we want, so it shouldn’t be any problem. I had Brandi call Elna, too, to see if she needed any help with the food. She says it’s under control. My jobs are done—plus a couple of yours.” He didn’t even sound smug about it. Tom was competent, but seldom smug. He also didn’t mention their brief quarrel. Neither did she.

“Good for you.”

While he fetched his keys from the kitchen, she wondered what it would be like to have a Frank or Johnny she could tell with an airy wave, “Please take care of all the petty details of my life so I can deal with the big stuff.”

He came back and picked up his briefcase. “I need to hit the road. My flight leaves at three.” He kept clothes in his Arlington condo, so packing was mostly a matter of changing reading materials. He pulled her to her feet and close to him. “I’ll miss you. Hold down the fort.”

He draped one arm over her shoulders and she walked him to the car. She was determined not to let her disappointment show, had vowed years before never to send him away thinking she was sad or mad. Life was too fragile for that. “You forgot to tell me the good news,” she reminded him.

He gave her a squeeze. “I wondered if you’d remember to ask. I have to go to China in September, and can clear my schedule to stay an extra two weeks. Would you like to come?”

Delight rose in her like a winged bird. “China? Could we see Jon?” Their son had graduated from Emory in May and left almost immediately for two years in one of China’s northern provinces, where he was teaching English. Katharine missed him terribly, especially since Susan was already in New York working for a brokerage firm.

Tom nodded. “We can fly Susan over as well, if she can get away. I told you it was good news. Two weeks
after
my meetings. I promise. I’ve told the office I’ll be on vacation.”

“Then go to Washington, do what you have to do, and hurry back.”

He gave her a lingering kiss, his lips familiar on hers, then drew back only far enough to murmur, “‘If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly.’” He kissed her again.

“Don’t be a show-off. But I love you.” She gave him a quick kiss on the nose.

“I love you, too. See you Friday.” He threw his briefcase in the car. She waved goodbye and headed back to the empty house with a lighter step. China! She hugged herself in excitement. Jon and Susan! And two whole weeks with Tom!

Besides, she reminded herself, it would be a lot easier to get done what she needed to do that week without worrying about bigger meals and time for conversation.

Easier, but lonelier.

Posey phoned ten minutes later. “I am so mad I could spit.”

Katharine, who had been mentally touring China, came to earth with alarm. “What happened? Did you have a wreck?”

“I don’t have wrecks. But if Tom Murray was standing in front of my car right this minute, I might run him over. He called to ask about my car, and he said he’s on his way to the airport. Is he really?”

“He has to go back to Washington for three days.”

“When you-all have a hundred and fifty people coming to your house Saturday a week?”

“He’ll be back this weekend, and things are pretty much on schedule.”

“He ought to be home this week to help you.”

“Wrens is home all the time. What does he ever do to help with your parties?”

“That’s different. I told Tom to come back home or I’d whop him upside the head.”

Katharine felt a flicker of hope in her chest. “Did he agree?”

Posey huffed. “No, he said it’s a good thing he’s married to you instead of me. He said you have everything under control.”

“I do, actually. He’s done what he promised to do, and more.”

“I still can’t believe you’d let him go off when you have all those people coming.”

“‘Let’ is not the operative word. You know Tom’s work.”

“He needs a new job.”