Ladd Haven (13 page)

“
No.” He shook his head.
“Never did.” It was the honest truth.

“
What about her father? Did
she ever mention wanting to get to know him?”

“
No, ma’am. Felicity didn’t
ever mention wantin’ to be close to the man.” Strange, but where
Troy thought she’d be happy to hear the words, Delaney seemed
depressed by them.

“
A girl needs her father,
Troy.” He returned a blank stare. Was he supposed to have a comment
on that? “A girl needs a strong man in her life.” A point he
couldn’t argue. “I told Casey I was going to give you a
job.”

Troy lost balance at the blunt
statement. “Was she mad?”

Delaney shook her head. “Actually, she
was pleased. Said you were the best horse man around.”

Pleasure swamped him like a tidal wave,
forcing him to take a step back. “I know my business, Miss Delaney.
I’ll do right by you, you can count on it.”

“
I know you
will.”

Her reply was soft as a drifting cloud,
yet it was her gaze that punched him in the chest. She believed in
him. There was no doubt in her eyes. There was no question, only a
vague something hovering behind the deep brown of her gaze. It
wasn’t doubt, it was...it was...

Troy didn’t know.

In the blink of an eye, whatever had
been hiding behind her eyes disappeared. Delaney straightened,
shook her hair and returned to business mode. “C’mon. I’ll check
you in at the office then introduce you around to the staff. We
have guests signed up for trail rides at nine and running all day,
with a carriage ride at sunset.”

Troy fell into step beside her as she
strode toward the office, unsettled by a twinge of uncertainty. Why
had Delaney brought up Casey? Did she think there was a chance for
the two of them? Was Casey really happy to hear he was working for
the hotel?

Chapter Ten

Felicity sat in her car outside the
Foster estate, her heart riddled with nerves. Her stomach was a
mess, her insides churning up a storm. The Foster home was so big
it looked like a hotel. Two-storied and completely built from
brick, it had a porch that stretched from one end to the other,
wrapping around both sides. A huge lantern hung from the second
floor ceiling by a thick chain and centered over two massive front
doors. Windows lined upstairs and downstairs, causing her to wonder
how many rooms were inside. The tiny cabin she shared with her
mother had one bedroom, one living area and a kitchen tucked into a
corner. Her bedroom wasn’t enclosed, rather a loft overhead with a
makeshift bathroom. She’d always loved her home. It was like living
in a tree fort, a secret hideaway in the woods. She gulped. She’d
never been inside a home as big as the Fosters. Even the Parker
home wasn’t as big as this one. Shoot, this wasn’t a home—it was a
mansion! Would there be servant’s quarters? Maids and butlers
running around asking what they wanted, if they were
okay?

She was going to stand out
like a dope on a highway. She didn’t know how to act around wealthy
people. Were their plates made of gold? Their glasses made from
expensive crystal? The front door opened and her heart stopped. A
dark-headed man stepped outside and relief swept through
her.
It was her father
. Words she was still getting used to. Dressed casually in
jeans and a button-down plaid, Jack Foster was a man she hardly
knew—in and out of her life for as long as she could remember—yet
here she was about to have dinner with him and his parents. He
spotted her and a quick smile formed on his lips. He waved for her
to come on, a gesture so casual, so normal, it felt
strange.

Pushing from her car, Felicity gathered
her purse and instantly assessed her attire in comparison. Had she
overdone it by choosing an ankle length skirt and heels? Her blouse
was a silk floral that could go either way but... She raised her
head to face him. Her father looked like he was hanging out at the
stables. She looked like she was going to some ladies’ luncheon.
When she didn’t move from her car, he began to walk toward her.
Shoving the car door closed, she hurried to him.

When she neared, his smile grew into
one of genuine appreciation. “Well, don’t you look beautiful this
evening.”

“
Thank you,” she replied
quickly, privately cursing her reaction. Her fair skin freckles
would light up like a sheet of red bulbs and surely expose her for
the simpleton she was! She inhaled as deep and full as she could to
calm the flutter of pulse.

“
My parents are anxious to
meet you.”

“
Me, too,” she replied and
followed him inside the enormous wood-paneled front
door.

Weird. She had grandparents
who lived in the same town but who had never officially met their
granddaughter. Felicity had seen them around town, of course. But
usually flanked by her mother or the Parker boys, and it never
seemed like a good time to say hello. Then again, how did one say
hello to family members she barely knew?
Hiya, I’m your granddaughter, the one your son
abandoned
. Or did her mother leave
him
? Felicity was fuzzy on
the details. All she knew was her parents divorced and the
relations were sour as buttermilk.

As she entered, the interior took her
breath away. In the foyer sat the largest bouquet of flowers she’d
ever seen perched on a pedestal table beneath a huge chandelier. It
was glittery and glassy and light sparkled through it like diamonds
floating in the air. Inclining her head forward, she noted a huge
stone fireplace across the room, empty of flame at the moment,
topped by a wood beam mantle. It looked more like a heavy log than
an actual mantle. On it were a bunch of framed portraits. She
couldn’t make out any of the faces from here but assumed they
included the extended family. A fleeting thought occurred to her.
Was she up there? Did they display a picture of her even though she
wasn’t actively part of their life? Allowing her gaze to drift over
Oriental rugs sprawled across shiny wood floors, she gazed upon
sofas of soft brown leather, their seams lined by rounded metal
bolts. Fat, interior wood posts reached from floor to ceiling,
supporting equally large beams overhead, their wood surfaces sanded
to a polished shine. The smell of evergreen potpourri infused her
senses.

“
What do you think?” Jack
asked.

“
It’s gorgeous,” she
murmured. Ambling further inside, she realized the extended family
was in attendance. She flung her gaze to him. He didn’t mention all
these people would be here!

Mrs. Foster rose from a wing chair.
Gliding across the floor in almost fairy-like movement, she
reminded Felicity of the dance majors at college. As a flutist, she
often spent time in the Theater Department watching waiflike
actresses dance and sing. Some were amazing, mesmerizing her with
their ability to sweep across a stage in weightless fashion. Jack’s
mother could have been one of them. Extending a hand, the woman
introduced herself. “I’m Victoria Foster. Your
grandmother.”

Anxiety streamed through Felicity’s
limbs as she accepted the slender hand. Mrs. Foster’s skin was so
delicate, it felt paper-fine in her grasp. “I’m Felicity Wilk—”
Realizing her error, her cheeks burned hot.

Mrs. Foster simply smiled, overlooking
it as nothing more than a minor misstep. The senior Mr. Foster
shadowed her, staring at Felicity with a strange look on his face
as his wife said, “We’re so glad you decided to join
us.”

“
Thanks for having
me.”

Mrs. Foster turned, and introduced the
rest of the family. “Boys, come say hello to your niece. Two
strapping men stepped from behind the sofa. Two women she assumed
to be their wives remained seated until their prospective men
escorted them forward. “Clint, Beau, I’d like you to meet
Felicity.”

Mrs. Foster spoke as if they hadn’t
been standing there the entire time, witnessing the previous
exchange. The tallest one of the group stuck out a hand to greet
her. Warm and firm, his grip matched the strong lines of his face,
his skin tanned and weathered from a life outdoors. He looked a lot
like her father, only bigger. “Beau Foster. About time my lazy
brother brought you around to meet the family.”

She smiled, accepting the insult as a
compliment to her. “Nice to meet you.”

“
I’d like you to meet my
wife, Becky Lynn.”

Felicity greeted the attractive
brunette by his side. Trim and fit, she could have been a model in
her form-fitting denim skirt and high-heeled boots. Her white
blouse was adorned with a row of frilly lace down the center, her
teeth perfect and gleaming white.

The second Foster brother did likewise.
“I’m Clint. This here’s my wife, Tara.” Felicity shook hands with
the woman. A bit more subdued than the first yet equally as
good-looking, she wore a simple cotton skirt and matching top, the
sandy color a near match to her long straight hair. “You sure are a
pretty thing,” she said.

“
Thank you,” Felicity
replied, annoyed by the repeated flare in her cheeks. It undermined
any savvy she attempted to exude.

“
I told you she was a
looker,” Jack said. “Looks nothing like her mother.”

“
Hush your mouth,” Mrs.
Foster admonished with a sharp glance.

Felicity wasn’t surprised by her
father’s comment. After living with the animosity for all these
years, his feelings popped out naturally. Her mom’s did the same.
“It’s okay,” Felicity assured. “I know what he means.”

“
You look exactly like your
grandmother.”

Startled by the fragile
quality of his voice, Felicity looked to Jack’s father. His plaid
flannel shirt and pressed jeans suggested a strong
outdoorsman—tall, in pretty good shape for his age, complete with a
full head of brown hair. She would have expected him to be more
outgoing, yet his first words—practically a whisper—were powerful
enough to strike the room silent.
How did
he know her grandmother
?

No one said a word as he approached
her, muttering, “It’s uncanny, the resemblance.”

And eerie, the way he was staring at
her. He looked as though he were under some kind of spell. Mrs.
Foster must have noticed it, too, because her expression had
changed from friendly to stunned. Felicity took a step backward,
closer to her father. Suddenly, the man she hardly knew felt like a
security blanket.

“
Dad, you’re staring.” His
blunt observation cut his father’s stupor. It was like an eraser
had been swiped over a whiteboard. Collecting himself in a complete
sweep of transformation, he boomed with a large, affable smile,
“Excuse my manners. Gerald Foster.” He reached for her hand and
shook gently. “We’re happy to have you in our home,
Felicity.”

Felicity peered at the
solemn expressions surrounding him and thought,
Turn around. You might discover you’re alone in that
sentiment.

The air of discomfort was cleared
quickly as Mrs. Foster regained control of the situation and
re-directed everyone back into party mode. She unleashed a litany
of questions, beginning with how did Felicity enjoy college, what
courses was she taking, what was her major, her future plans, what
did she think of the new hotel... It was an exhausting dialogue,
punctuated by the occasional question from other family members.
Everyone took part except Mr. Foster. He took a back seat to most
of the conversation, though he was clearly dialed in, staring at
her in the oddest way.

As they sat down to dinner, her father
lit the line of tapered candles, elegant symbols of family unity
coming to life one by one, pulling a subtle gleam from the silver
lighter he used. Rimmed in gold, it seemed pretty fancy for a
lighter, more like an heirloom or valuable collectible. After the
senior Mr. Foster led them in blessing, talk slowed, grew
comfortable, and Felicity found she was actually beginning to enjoy
herself. Her father was nowhere near the monster her mother
described. He seemed intelligent, witty, good-natured. No one at
the table seemed to have a problem with him. Sure, he was family
and family tended to overlook the blemishes, but she’d seen
strained family relations and these weren’t it. They were downright
friendly people and Felicity was glad she accepted the invitation.
Wait until her mother heard.

The two wives stood and began clearing
plates. Plucking the cloth napkin from her lap, Felicity rose to do
likewise, but her father’s hand stopped her. “Sit. Relax. You’re a
guest this evening.”

She looked to him in objection.
“But—”

Mrs. Foster reinforced the fact with a
tip of her head. “The girls will see to the dishes. Thelma’s in
there to help them. I’d like to hear more about your flute. I’m
fascinated. Do you play as part of an orchestra?”

Slowly Felicity dropped back into her
chair, a river of mixed emotion tumbling through her. Her mother
would not be happy to know she sat during cleanup. It was her job
as the youngest female in the group to clear dishes and clean pots.
On the other hand, Mrs. Foster was the matriarch and she dictated
which women did what. Besides, she sounded genuinely interested in
her music. Glancing aside to her father, his wink reinforced the
request to sit and discuss her music. “Well, sometimes.” Settling
onto the plush seat cushion, she readjusted to being in the
spotlight. “Mostly I play solo. Eventually I’ll take part in a
symphony performance, but for the time being, I’m concentrating on
improving my skills.”