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“You let me talk you into getting married here because you knew this place would be fun.” Troy dropped a pickle back onto the plate, leaned back and shot her a sober look. “And you knew if you went along, I’d make it worth your while. I’ve held up my end of the deal.”
That wasn’t a question, and Miranda’s heart sighed at the memory of the easier time in their lives and how well he’d held up his end of the deal. A wedding night in the exotic Roman Bagnio suite where they’d soaked naked in the baths. Three weeks touring the Hawaiian Islands where they’d made love on their own private beach during sunrises and sunsets.
He’d been living up to his end of the deal. No question.
“Perhaps the Naughty Nuptials wasn’t such a great idea,” she admitted. “Maybe we should have gone someplace where we didn’t know anyone for our vacation.”
“Done deal. Besides, we’ve been so busy with these events that you haven’t had much time to spend with anyone but me. I’m surprised your family and friends haven’t beaten down the door.”
“Everyone knows we’re here for the grand opening. And we deserve some time together.”
“Agreed, but I expected to do some sharing. You haven’t been home in six months. People want to see you.”
“Like Victoria and Laura Granger,” she said dryly. “I would assume this has something to do with Hottest Honeymoons, but if so, why would she only invite me? I wonder if this has something to do with her engagement.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“What else can I be, Troy? My sister’s involved with Laura Granger and engaged to a man she just met. This is even more insane than her usual insanity.”
“Could be worse. She could have run off to Vegas to live with Adam.”
No argument there. But the whole situation was so classic Victoria that it was hard to be objective. “Who knows if that wedding will ever take place? They might decide they don’t like each other once they become acquainted.”
“Maybe, maybe not. They know they’re in love. What more do they need to know?”
There was a soft quality to his voice, a sound that implied he’d be equally insane for her. Not so long ago that admission would have melted her heart, but now…now it reminded her she hadn’t been living up to her end of the deal.
“I guess I should get this over with.” She had better things to expend her energy on—like figuring out how to keep her worries out of the bedroom for the rest of their vacation.
“I’ll come with you,” Troy said.
She turned to find him leaving the table. “I appreciate it, but finish your lunch. I won’t be long.”
“I’ve been waiting four months to be with you. I don’t want to waste more time if I can help it.”
“I like when we’re together.”
“Me, too, Mrs. Knight. Me, too.”
And as she watched him cross the room to return his plate to the kitchen, she saw the determination in his long strides, knew he wanted to be with her because he recognized that she dreaded this visit.
That was Troy, solid, there. Even when they were physically apart, he tried to stay involved and supportive. She appreciated the effort. But lately that closeness let him sense she was off, despite her best efforts to reassure him.
She simply had to pull herself together so she could get on with the important things in life…like enjoying together time with her husband on a fantasy vacation that most couples only dreamed of.
Making her way into the bedroom, Miranda refreshed her makeup, and Troy soon followed, heading into the bathroom with the promise, “I’ll take a fast shower.”
“Fine.” She glanced into the mirror where she found a stranger staring back.
Who was this woman who had let worry chase away another orgasm?
Miranda didn’t know.
She’d always been a capable, accomplished woman who had no trouble achieving what she put her mind to. Public speaking. Spearheading a variety of volunteer fund-raisers. Graduating from college cum laude. Whenever she set a goal, she learned the skills necessary to accomplish the job then did it. No problem.
She’d fallen in love, gotten married and planned to be the perfect wife. She’d intended to accompany Troy on his tours, support his career and keep the home fires burning while he was on duty.
She’d understood the responsibilities involved, knew what it would take to support a man with a power career, and was willing to do the job. She’d learned from the best—her mother handled the demanding role of politician’s wife with grace and ease. Miranda had felt eager and ready for her future as Troy’s wife.
It had never occurred to her that she couldn’t transition her skills into military life.
But that’s exactly what was happening.
Dropping the lipstick into her purse, she glanced down at the dresser where Troy’s wallet sat neatly beside his watch and the suite’s keycard. His organizational skills were a side effect of his upbringing, a tangible reminder of how different he was from any man she’d ever known.
If Miranda didn’t love him so much, she might not feel so badly right now. But she did love him enough that she desperately needed to figure out how to deal with the situation before he found out life was exploding in her face back home.
The memory of her latest failure hit her fast and hard, and humiliation came as white-hot and excruciating as it had during her latest attempt to make a place for herself with the wives of Troy’s peers. Closing her eyes, Miranda couldn’t face herself in the mirror when she remembered taking her turn as hostess for their monthly tea.
I want the event to be special, she’d told the local florist. So let’s go with a springtime theme to celebrate April showers and May flowers.
She remembered standing in the doorway of the clubhouse to survey the effect, found herself pleased with the result. Tables had been decorated with colorful floral arrangements, sparkling glassware and a variety of goodies catered by a well-known teahouse she’d heard many of the women rave over.
She wanted to make a good impression—the officers’ wives were a tight network on this naval base, a support system through the steady rounds of “hails and farewells,” bosses’ nights and unaccompanied tours. Through them, she could learn the social dos and don’ts to help further Troy’s career.
For some reason, her infiltration into their ranks hadn’t been smooth, and she’d wanted this tea to bridge the distance. She remembered smiling while gazing around that beautifully decorated room.
And she’d still been smiling when she’d donated every last finger sandwich to a local ministry because none of her guests had shown up. Not one. The women had made their point that day—they wouldn’t accept her no matter what she did to fit in.
Opening her eyes, Miranda forced herself to meet her reflection, to acknowledge that this hadn’t been her first failure, though it definitely qualified as her most spectacular. She’d dubbed those women the witchy wives that day, and refused, absolutely refused, to let them make her life miserable. But despite that vow, she’d begun dreading the orders that took Troy away. When he left, she felt stranded across the country from friends and family.
And from Troy.
Even worse was that she couldn’t discuss the problem with Troy. Wouldn’t discuss it. Early in their marriage he’d made it clear he expected her to handle what came up while he was gone, trusted her to deal with their domestic life.
Funny, but she remembered that debacle almost as clearly as hosting the officers’ wives tea.
Things had seemed pretty simple and straightforward at the time. Her car had needed some expensive repairs, and the dealer had recommended trading it in on a newer model rather than pouring money into hers. She agreed but had wanted Troy’s input before signing off on a three-year loan.
She’d tried to contact him for several days via their usual lines of communications, but when she didn’t hear back from him, she’d assumed he was out of touch on a mission. Since the situation hadn’t been an emergency, she’d done the next best thing and sent him a telegram.
What she hadn’t realized was that her telegram would be handled by a lot of people on its way to Troy.
Everyone from the telegram messenger and the chaplain to his unit commander and team members had learned the details of her transportation situation. Troy’s response had been equally simple and straightforward—deal with it.
She’d never meant to embarrass him and had learned a valuable lesson. Her husband was in special operations and didn’t need to be distracted with minutiae. Distractions risked a lot more than a disgruntled client or a lost account. Troy’s life hung in the balance of his job performance, along with the lives of his teammates and their mission objectives.
If Troy had any idea how badly the situation had degenerated at home, he’d be worrying about her while trying to work. She refused to let that happen. Not for a bunch of witchy women who shouldn’t be bothering her.
But they were. For some reason their rejection had made her doubt herself. She should be above their petty rudeness, but she’d started questioning whether she was cut out for the military, if her upbringing and family name had paved her way by making life too easy.
She’d been a big fish in the little pond of Niagara Falls. She’d never considered the obstacles she might encounter as a little fish in a big pond. But she was facing them now.
And had vowed to overcome them.
She would keep the home fires burning so Troy could look forward to returning home to a wife who couldn’t wait for him to get there. She would keep her worries out of their bed while on this fantasy vacation.
She just wished the job didn’t feel quite so big.
3
MIRANDA WOULD SAY one thing—Laura Granger had created a fantasy with her Wedding Wing. As she and Troy headed toward the elevator to take them down to the third floor, she couldn’t help but marvel at the grandeur of this new addition.
She would never have guessed the oddball girl who’d been a constant irritation during school would be responsible for breathing life back into this old hotel.
As Laura had always been the one lurking in the shadows, Miranda couldn’t help but think how life had reversed their positions. Laura stood in the spotlight of her grand opening, while Miranda had come on this vacation to escape.
Slipping her fingers through Troy’s, she took comfort in his touch and tried to shake this contemplative mood.
She was thinking again.
As always, Troy proved a great distraction. When the elevator deposited them on the third floor, he slipped his arm around her and pulled her close for a quick kiss before directing her to the room where the photojournalist had set up headquarters during the grand opening.
Miranda couldn’t imagine what the man had cooked up with her sister and Laura Granger. Tyler Tripp might be acclaimed for his work, but he was also thoroughly disreputable looking, exactly the sort of more-tattoos-than-college-credits type of man her sister typically got involved with. Given their shared interest in journalism, Miranda couldn’t believe Victoria had hooked up with ultraprofessional Adam Grant instead.
“All set?” Troy asked when they arrived at the room.
“Showtime.”
He knocked. Taking a deep breath, Miranda steeled herself as the door opened, but to her surprise, Tyler wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Only Victoria.
“Thanks for coming.” Her sister resembled their mother in appearance with her bright red hair and fair skin, but the similarities ended there. Victoria’s enthusiasm was all her own.
“Not a problem that I came, too, is it?” Troy asked.
Wrapping her arms around Troy’s neck, Victoria gave him a hug. “Of course not. You’re my favorite bro-in-law.”
He was Victoria’s only brother-in-law, as they all well knew, but Troy clearly appreciated the welcome. So did Miranda. She forced a smile.
Laura Granger waited inside, and she didn’t look nearly as enthusiastic to see them. They’d grown up disliking each other. Laura was everything Miranda wasn’t—tall and slim with white-blond hair, pale blue eyes and luminous skin. Given the way their families led separate lives, comparisons were inevitable. Given their differences, disliking those comparisons was also inevitable.
And people in their town were fascinated by a prominent family that had split down the middle. While Miranda had the benefit of hailing from the still respectable and affluent side of the family, Laura had suffered her family’s fall from grace with not much to define her but her stunning looks and ambitious academic marks. She’d been out of her league with the other students at prestigious Westfalls Academy.
Add Victoria to the mix now, with her glorious hair and come-hither smiles, and it might explain why Miranda suddenly felt like the runt of the litter.
“Nice to see you both.” With her smile firmly in place, Laura was in full hospitality management mode. “Thanks for meeting with us on your day off.”
“So what’s up?” Miranda directed her question to her sister, eager to get this ball rolling. The sooner they got to the point, the sooner she could deal with the fallout and get on with her day. And there would be fallout. After a lifetime of dealing with Victoria, she knew there was always fallout.
“I’m here to sell you on an idea, big sis.” She gestured them to the sofa while heading toward the desk and Laura. “Sit. Would you like anything to drink?”
Shaking her head, Miranda sat beside Troy, who nudged his knee against hers as if to say, “This should be interesting.”
No doubt. “Might I ask why you invited me to Tyler’s room when he doesn’t seem to be around? Is this about Hottest Honeymoons?”
“Not exactly,” Victoria said. “We wanted neutral turf. When you came to the Wedding Knight Suite, I thought you were going to have a heart attack.” She glanced back at Laura. “The rack. She thinks I’m a closet dominatrix.”
Laura only inclined her head, but her amused expression irked Miranda. Yes, the pornographic sex device that comprised a whole wall in Victoria’s suite had surprised her, but when had these two become such good friends that they discussed her?
Miranda refused to ask. What they did on their own time wasn’t her concern—unless their actions started the town talking again. Her mother didn’t need the stress right now. Not while dealing with Victoria’s unexpected engagement.
“We could have used Laura’s office,” Victoria explained. “But I wasn’t sure I could get you there. So we begged a favor from Tyler—” she swept an arm around to encompass the tastefully decorated guestroom “—and here we are.”
“There’s a method to our madness, too,” Laura added. “What we want to show you is on Tyler’s computer.”
“Really? Now I’m curious.”
“Me, too,” Troy said. “Why don’t you start the show?”
Laura sat down behind the desk and slanted the monitor toward them. She clicked the mouse to bring up an image of formally dressed guests in what could have been one of many grand opening functions that had taken place over the past two weeks.
“All right,” Victoria said. “But give me a chance to explain everything before you blast our idea out of the water, would you, big sis?”
Our idea?
The thought of Victoria and Laura Granger colluding over anything was enough to send a cold chill up Miranda’s spine. But she nodded, willing to agree to just about anything if her sister—who was dragging out the suspense as usual—would get a move on. “Why are you even making the effort if you’re so sure I’m going to disapprove?”
“You know me. Hope springs eternal.” Her sister gave a laugh, which transformed Laura’s hospitality-perfect veneer into a worried frown.
Curiouser and curiouser. There was a lot going on between these two if she read the signals right.
Cocking a hip against the desk, Victoria folded her arms. “When I was first assigned to cover the Naughty Nuptials, I put all the family history on the table to get any questions of bias out of the way. This got me and Laura talking about what really happened to cause the trouble between her mother and Grandfather all those years ago.”
That trouble, as Victoria called it, had caused their grandfather to disown his oldest daughter and had instigated a family rift that had lasted decades.
Leaning back against Troy, Miranda settled in for the long haul. Judging by her sister’s excitement, she intended to play this for all it was worth.
“Got it,” Miranda prompted. “So you two rehashed past history. I won’t ask why.”
“It’s irrelevant, anyway. What is relevant is that we decided we needed to find out what really happened. So we’ve been talking to Aunt Suzanne and Mother.”
Aunt Suzanne? When had Laura Granger’s mother become Aunt Suzanne?
“I’ll have you know that Mother was very forthcoming with me,” Victoria continued. “Aunt Suzanne, too. And in getting both sides of the story, Laura and I learned that there are some really big questions about our family history.”
“What sort of questions?” she asked.
“Like how come we were told our grandmother was English.”
From the corner of her eye, Miranda caught sight of Troy’s frown and supplied the reason. “Because she was English. Mother said she came to America from England after they married.”
“She told me the same thing.”
“So did my mom,” Laura added.
“And you’re saying she didn’t?” These two had to be off their rockers. She couldn’t vouch for Aunt Suzanne, but Miranda knew her mother would never mislead them about the parent she’d lost in a car accident while still a very young child.
“As far as they’re concerned, our grandmother did come from England,” Laura explained. “Tori and I haven’t told them what we’ve found out yet.”
“What’s that?” Troy threaded his fingers through Miranda’s, a silent show of support.
“Grandfather said he’d met our grandmother during the war and married her before they came back to the United States. Well, I’ve been doing some investigating and couldn’t find a thing about his marriage to Laura Russell. I got curious, so I looked into her immigration records. If she was a British citizen, she had to have papers to get into this country.”
Victoria met her gaze with an expression positively alive with excitement. “Laura Russell doesn’t seem to have existed until she appeared in the good old U.S. of A, fully grown and married to our grandfather.”
“I should add that Tori had to dig for this information.” Laura gave a tight laugh. “I’m still waiting for Interpol to show up in the lobby.”
“Pshaw.” Her sister waved a dismissive hand. “Have a little faith, please. We’re talking immigration here. I didn’t have to dig that deep. Besides, I happen to be good at what I do. No problems, trust me.”
Trusting Victoria was enough to strike terror in the bravest of souls, and Miranda was surprised Laura recognized it. “Exactly what did you learn? Our grandmother must have existed or the three of us wouldn’t be here right now. Will you please tell us before you wind up in prison?”
“Oh, our grandmother existed, all right,” Victoria said. “Only she wasn’t English. She was a French citizen. Her name was Laure Roussell not Laura Russell.”
Miranda wasn’t at all sure what to make of this revelation, except that she could tell by her sister’s expression that she was serious. “Victoria, that’s crazy.”
“I have documentation to prove it.”
“Can you possibly be mistaken?”
“Not a chance. Grandfather’s name is on the marriage certificate.”
“And you don’t think Mother knows?”
She shook her head and Laura agreed. “My mom, either. She named me after our grandmother. I’m Laura. No question there.”
Troy looked as puzzled as Miranda felt. “If your information is accurate, then the question here would be why. Why would your grandmother hide her French ancestry? And why wouldn’t the senator tell his daughters?”
“That’s the mystery,” Laura said. “And since we’re pretty sure our moms don’t know, we didn’t want to start asking questions. Not until we have some idea of what this is about.”
Miranda tried to digest this information. Their grandfather had been an Army commander during World War II, had even been decorated after being captured by the enemy and leading many of his men in a daring escape.
She knew he rarely, if ever, discussed the war, and any media inquiries were always met with a stony “No comment.” His handlers had spun his silence to make him look like a humble man who’d done his job and didn’t feel comfortable with accolades.
“If Grandfather kept our grandmother’s heritage a secret, then it must be a secret that needs to be kept,” Miranda said. “Victoria, you know as well as I do that Grandfather would never sidestep this kind of information without good reason.”
“I agree,” Troy said. “The senator wouldn’t risk the publicity if word ever leaked out. If you were able to uncover the information, no doubt other reporters could, too.”
“Laura and I discussed that,” Victoria said. “We believe everything looks nice and neat on the surface so no one will have any reason to dig into our grandmother’s past. She died a long time ago. Before Grandfather became a senator.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.” Miranda meant it. “What if all this investigating raises unnecessary interest? You’re a reporter. You know better than anyone how this could blow up in our faces. With Father up for reelection, the media would have a field day with this. And if Mother doesn’t know…”
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take.” Victoria’s frown made the hair on the back of Miranda’s neck prickle.
Laura nodded. “If we want to fix things.”
“What do you want to fix?” Troy eyed them curiously as he slipped his arm around her.
“Our family,” Victoria said. “We need to find out what happened so we can figure out how to solve the problem and bring our families back together again.”
Why was Miranda even surprised? This was her sister they were talking about here, with Laura Granger tossed into the mix. A crazy combination no matter how she came at it. “What do you mean fix our family? What makes you think anyone wants to be fixed? I mean, if you two want to play nice, then have at it—”
“Not us, big sis.”
Miranda barely got a chance to brace herself before Laura said, “Our mothers.”
“They haven’t talked for decades and seem content with the arrangement.” She tried to sound reasonable, but didn’t quite manage. These two had lost their minds. “What on earth makes you think that’s likely to change?”
“Take a look at this.” With a few maneuvers of the mouse and some blips and beeps, Laura enlarged the pImages** on the computer monitor to reveal two familiar faces.
Miranda had honestly never realized how much her mother and Laura’s looked alike. Her brief interactions with Aunt Suzanne, mostly at Westfalls Academy where the woman had once worked, had left Miranda with the memory of long dark hair and a wardrobe that favored comfort over style.
But while the woman wore long skirts and a minimum of makeup, a closer examination revealed Laura’s mother to be as striking as Miranda’s own.
The hair was different. The features were different, yet so much about the fine-boned face was the same…the soft full mouth…the deep blue eyes…the aching look that made her face seem raw.
And her own mother…Miranda barely recognized her anguish. She’d watched her mother conduct press conferences filled with rabid reporters and not flinch, but here her expression openly wore the weight of too many years.
“Guess what they were looking at,” Laura said.
“Each other.” Victoria’s voice was soft, affected in a way Miranda had never heard her before. “Tyler caught them on film. Can anything be worth this sort of heartache?”
Miranda didn’t know what to say. Seeing this only drove home how right she’d been to worry about her mother.