- -
- 100%
- +
As he left the parlor and headed for the dining room, Jackson Colton fought the bile that rose in his throat. His father’s confession disgusted him more than he could ever put into words. Although he couldn’t say he was surprised. His father was no choirboy.
And Meredith. Meredith had changed.
As a child, he’d adored his Aunt Meredith. In fact, he’d looked upon her as a second mother. But in the past years—before the time of Teddy’s birth, in fact—Jackson had noticed changes in Meredith that more than disturbed him. For so long, everyone had tried to pass these changes off as postpartum depression or the accident, but Teddy. was eight years old now and the accident happened a decade ago.
His sister, Liza, had once hinted that she believed something very amazing and unbelievable accounted for the changes in Aunt Meredith. At the time, Jackson had brushed off the wild notion. But now, as he reflected back on Liza’s crazy theory, a chill raced down his spine and he feared there might just be more than a grain or two of truth there.
When he arrived in the dining room, he was dismayed to discover that he was not entirely alone.
Meredith was seated at the head of the table with a cup of coffee, a croissant and the society page. Languidly, she lifted her gaze from the print and trained it on Jackson. A small smile played at her lips, and she sat up a little straighter.
“Good morning, Jackson.”
“Is it, Meredith?”
He could feel her watching him pick up a serrated knife and begin to saw his bagel in half.
“Something wrong, dear? You don’t seem quite yourself.”
Still holding the knife, Jackson turned to face her. “Funny, I could say the exact same thing about you.”
Meredith’s face hardened. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just this—If you don’t stop extorting money from my father, I will go to the police.”
Meredith laughed, playing it light, as if she thought he were joking. “Jackson, honey, what in heaven’s name are you talking about?”
Jackson had to hand it to her. She was as cool as the other side of a pillow on a hot summer day. “I’m talking about the fact that my father is paying you hush money because he’s afraid Joe will write him out of his will, if—” his voice grew steely “—Joe finds out that his rotten little brother is really the father of your son.” He ran the blade of the knife across his fingertip, testing its sharpness. “So, since my father is too much of a spineless jellyfish to call your bluff, I guess the dubious pleasure is mine.” Jackson stabbed his knife into the cutting board and turned to look her in the eye. “Back off. Do I make myself clear?”
Meredith blanched and clutched her cup till it rattled against the saucer. “Don’t you dare threaten me, Jackson Colton.”
“Or what?”
“Or you, my precious nephew, will be sorry.”
“I’m already sorry.”
Shaking with rage, Meredith watched Jackson stalk out of the room and frantically wondered exactly what he knew. He couldn’t know that she was an impostor. No one knew that—with the exception of Emily—and soon, that would no longer be a problem.
Meredith reached into the pocket of her robe for her ever-present bottle of tranquilizers. After several botched attempts, she was finally able to shake two into her palm. She tossed them into her mouth and chased them down her throat with a gulp of coffee.
She took a deep, cleansing breath, and waited for the rage to subside and the little voices that shrieked in her head to quiet down.
Breathe in, breathe out.
In…out… In…visualize the peaceful place…out. She focused on the hands of the wall clock and watched a minute dissolve into ten.
Yes. There now. She was fine. She would be just fine.
Better than fine, actually.
A rough plan began to form in the back of her mind. She needed Jackson gone now too, but it would get a little messy if there were too many murder attempts all at once. No, there had to be an easier way to get rid of Jackson.
Too bad she couldn’t send him to jail. That was a good place to go, if you were an annoyance. She ought to know. She’d certainly spent her share of time in jail. The tranquilizers began to kick in, giving her a relaxed and vaguely euphoric feeling. Jail. Hey, now. Maybe she should give this jail thing some thought. Maybe that wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
But for what?
Unless…
Unless she could get him to go for the attempt on his uncle’s life.
A light bulb flashed on in Patsy’s mind.
That was it.
Her heart began to hammer. In fact, while she was going to all the trouble, she’d set him up for both attempts on Joe’s life. A slow smile crept across her lips. Oh, yes, Patsy, honey, she gave herself a mental pat on the back, you are good.
Satisfied as a cat with a bowl of cream, Meredith went back to the society section and her half-empty cup of coffee. After a little nap, she’d get started on her plan to get Jackson out of the picture, and thereby solve a lot of nasty problems.
Annie Summers, her mouth full of bobby pins, looked into an antique, gilt-framed wall mirror with disgust. Her hair. Her lousy, rotten, crinkly, goofy hair was having one of its notorious bad days. The April sun streamed in from a nearby window, creating a rusty halo that gave her a bit of a fallen angel look. She curled an upper lip to enhance the effect. It was hopeless. No amount of spray or gel or relaxer or blow-drying or clippy doo-dads would whip it into submission, either. They hadn’t invented the product that could handle her particular mop, and the day they did, she was buying stock. She’d be a millionaire overnight.
“Moah? Amicks?” she muttered around the hairpins.
“Yeah?” Noah and Alex’s muffled voices came from the back of her shop.
“Mat are oo doing?”
“Playin’.”
“Id oo tut ’er shoes on, yike I asked?” Annie removed the pins from her mouth and crammed them into her makeshift bun and hoped for the best.
“Uh…” Whispered laughter and some scrambling reached her ears. “Yeah, we’re putting our shoes on.”
“Are you putting them on your feet?” She grinned at their giggles. One didn’t live with two five-year-olds and not know when they were up to no good.
“Er, uh, okay,” Alex, self-appointed spokesman for the two, answered.
“Are you putting them on now?”
“Uhh…yeah.”
“Are you wearing socks?”
“Oh…well—”
With a sigh, Annie dropped her brush on a Louis XIV love seat and strode from the showroom of the antique store, Summer’s Autumn Antiques, that she’d inherited from her father. Moving into the play area she kept next to her office for her boys, she stopped short and stared.
“What the—” Exasperated, Annie shook her head. “What are you guys doing in your—” she took in the bare chests and, in one case, bare bottom “—underwear? Alex, where is your underwear?”
“It was his idea,” Alex said, pointing at Noah.
“Was not.”
“Was too!”
“What idea?” Annie asked.
“We were going to put our clothes on the dog and surprise you.”
As Alex explained, Chopper, the aging black Lab, came hobbling out from behind the toy box, his foot caught up in the arm of a sweater. He sported socks and shoes on three of his four feet. His tail, which he wagged pitifully, protruded from the fly of some small body’s—obviously Alex’s—underpants. Chopper looked absolutely miserable.
Try as she might, Annie could not hold back the giggles. Screaming with delight, the boys joined in, doing a little jig that had their skinny little bodies flailing and leaping.
“Why on earth did you think to put clothes on poor Chopper?”
“No shirts, no shoes, no service,” Noah offered.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Annie looked back and forth between the two faces, mirror images of hers, both earnest in their explanation.
“We wanted Chopper to come out to lunch with us—”
“—and he couldn’t go if he was naked—”
“—cause Emma says the sign in the window says—”
Annie held up her hand. “Okay. I get it. But you guys need to know that they don’t serve dogs at the Mi-T-Fine Café. Even well-dressed dogs, like Chopper, here.”
Alex’s face fell. “Never?”
“Never?” Noah echoed.
“Nope.” She gestured to the dog. “And since they don’t serve naked kids either, put this poor animal out of his misery and you two get dressed.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll give you five minutes. If you’re not ready, I’m going without you. And I’m ordering hot dogs.”
“Hot dogs!” the boys shouted with glee and in record time were ready for lunch on the town—or at least at the restaurant next door—with Mom.
Over the glass entrance doors of the Mi-T-Fine Caféin Keyhole, Wyoming, an electronic chime announced Wyatt’s arrival. The restaurant was doing a healthy business and no one in particular looked up to see who’d come in. From inside the kitchen a wonderfully familiar female voice called, “Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
It was Emily. She sounded safe and healthy, anyway. That was a good sign. Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief.
“Take your time. I’m in no hurry,” he called and wandered to an empty booth in the front of the restaurant near a bank of windows that overlooked the quaint main street.
Keyhole was a Mecca for tourists on their way to or from Yellowstone National Park. Nestled in a lush valley, surrounded by spectacular, majestic mountains, the little town ingeniously mixed the new and the old to create a trendy, upbeat feel. Keyhole was known to antique hunters all over the country for its delightful painted lady Victorians, western facade buildings and the historic treasures they held within.
Skiers—both water and snow—hikers, climbers, wind-surfers, hunters and fishermen enjoyed the sports offered by the great outdoors. All around the perimeter of town, hotels were popping up as Keyhole became a mini-Aspen. It wasn’t unusual to see celebrities shopping or skiing in Keyhole anymore. Luckily, growth was relatively slow and Keyhole had managed to maintain its small-town flavor.
Wyatt could see why Annie loved this town. Like Prosperino, it was a bit of heaven on earth.
He plucked a menu from between the sugar container and the salt-and-pepper shakers and studied the special that was clipped to the cover.
At the other side of the café, Annie shushed her rowdy boys and, cocking her head, listened for the mellow baritone again, to no avail.
“No,” she whispered. “Couldn’t be.” Craning her head, she searched the aisle and tried to peer over the high-backed booths and the partitions that blocked her view of the front of the room.
That voice.
Just the sound of it unleashed a plethora of emotion within her, both good and bad. Annie shrugged off the crazy notion as her boys distracted her, wrestling over crayons. Must be someone who sounded incredibly like him, she thought and rubbed the gooseflesh that had risen on her arms.
“Alex, eat the bun too.”
“But I’m saving it for Chopper.”
Annie threw her hands up. Where Chopper was concerned it was impossible to reason with her boys. “Fine. But don’t put it in your shirt pocket. You’re getting mustard everywhere.”
“Okay.” Alex removed the mustard-slathered bread and slapped it into her hand. “Here. Could you put this in your purse?”
Annie exhaled mightily and searched the ceiling for patience. Her crisp white blouse now sported yellow polka-dots in various shapes and sizes. Dabbing at them with a napkin only made them worse.
From inside the kitchen, Emily recognized the familiar voice and openmouthed, flew to the pickup window and craned her neck to catch a glimpse. Wyatt! After seven solid months on the lam, to finally see a member of her family was overwhelming. She blinked back the tears of joy. Help had arrived at last and now, perhaps, someone might just take her seriously.
Reaching behind her, she untied her apron and waved at Roy who was busy over the sizzling grill. Helen was making coffee and Geraldine was out on the floor. They’d be fine without her for a few minutes. “I’m taking a break,” she called and they nodded.
Emily rushed through the restaurant as old fashioned as its name implied. The walls were a rough plank and overhead, shelves were loaded with historic knickknacks and plants. In the background, some easy listening was piped in through speakers in the ceiling. The murmur of voices ebbed and flowed, and underscoring it all, silverware clanked and the grill sizzled.
Wyatt glanced up at the sound of her approach. “Emily!” He held out his hand and pulled her into the booth beside him and gave her temple a sound kissing. Eyes thirsty, he drank in the sight of her, checking her over until he was satisfied that she was all right. He reached up, touching her shock of chestnut-red hair and was once again reminded of his Annie.
Emily plucked a napkin from the chrome dispenser on the table and crushed it to her mouth. “How did you find me?”
“Rand and Austin tracked you down.”
“I would have called, but it’s not safe.”
“I know.”
“You do?” She pushed her napkin to her eyes and cast him a watery smile. “You believe me?”
“We all do.”
“Oh,” she blubbered. “Finally.”
“Better late than never?”
“Oh, yeah.” Smile tremulous, she turned her back to the aisle. Facing him, she leaned on her elbow to create some privacy. “I don’t have much time. This is the middle of the Saturday lunch rush and it can get a little hairy here.”
“That’s fine,” Wyatt said with a nod. “We can talk later. I plan on staying for several days—”
“Really?” Emily heaved a ragged sigh. “I’ve been starved for news of home.”
“Well, I’m loaded with that, and more.” He tapped the envelope that lay in front of him on the table, then slid it over to rest in front of her.
Emily stared. “What’s this?”
“The news you’ve been waiting for. It’ll make some interesting nighttime reading, that I can guarantee.”
“It’s about Mom?”
“And her identical twin sister. A woman named Patsy Portman.”
“A twin. I knew it,” she murmured.
“We’re guessing that you were right all along about Patsy taking Meredith’s place.”
“It happened the day of the accident. I just know it. Remember when Mom went off the road and wrecked the car?”
“Emily, do you have any idea what may have happened to Meredith?”
“I can’t remember,” she whispered. “It happened so fast, and it’s years ago now. I was crying and confused. My head hurt and Mom’s head was bleeding so much. I think I passed out. What I do remember is seeing another woman there who looked exactly like Mom. Then, I don’t remember anything until she brought me into the emergency room. I couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t bleeding anymore…”
Wyatt slowly nodded. “Meredith must have disappeared between the accident and the emergency room, while you were unconscious.”
Snatching another napkin from the dispenser, Emily scrubbed at her nose. “Mmm. That’s what I’ve always suspected. But no one believed me until now.”
“We believe you, honey. We’re on your side and we’re here to help you.”
“What about Mom?”
Wyatt slipped an arm around her shoulders and brought the top of her head to his neck. “We’re working on that. Austin’s on her trail, as we speak.” He tried to inject a note of confidence into his voice. “What exactly happened the night you left?”
In a halting voice, Emily spoke. “Someone tried to kill me. And, he nearly succeeded.”
Three
Wyatt drew a long, slow breath. Hearing the brutal truth had the bile rising into his throat. “I could use some fresh air. How about you?”
Emily peeked up at the counter. Geraldine and Helen were still busy with customers and no one new had come in since she’d sat down. “Yes. I think that would be okay. If we don’t stay long.” She tucked into her apron pocket the envelope that Wyatt had brought, then waved her hand at the counter. “Geraldine?”
“Yes, honey?” Geraldine took in the tear streaks on Emily’s cheeks and frowned at Wyatt.
“I’m just gonna take a quick break. You guys okay without me?”
Geraldine glanced around, then returned her suspicious gaze to Wyatt. “For a few minutes, sure.”
“I’ll have her back pronto,” Wyatt assured her. “Don’t worry, she’s in good hands.”
Geraldine looked skeptical.
The doorbell chimed again as Wyatt held the door for Emily.
“Noah! Alex!” Annie strained to hear above the hubbub of her children’s voices. “Pipe down for just a second, will you?”
“Why?” Alex asked.
“Because I’m trying to hear something,” Annie snapped, flapping her hands and making lip-zipping motions.
Noah found her wild gesticulations most amusing and howled with laughter.
“Whater ya trying to hear?” Alex pressed.
Annie pressed her nose to the window and tried to see around front.
Noah tapped her arm. “Whatcha see?”
Her exasperated sigh fogged the pane of glass. “Nothing.”
Wyatt took Emily’s hand and led her to a bench on the wooden sidewalk just outside Summer’s Autumn Antiques. He pulled her down beside him and once again, slipped an arm around her shoulders.
“Someone tried to kill you.”
Emily’s head bobbed beneath his chin.
Sick at heart, Wyatt pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know it’s probably pretty hard to talk about, but the more you can tell me, the more we can help.”
Emily glanced around. When she was satisfied that no one was listening, she continued. “I was on my way to bed when I noticed that my bedroom door was nearly closed. You remember how Dad would never let us kids close our doors until we were in bed? Even so, normally, I’d have just thought Inez made a mistake, but because of what had just happened at Dad’s birthday party a few months earlier I was still a little wary.”
“Mmm.”
Wyatt knew all about the attempt on Joe’s life. That night, Rand had called from the party, shaken. “Dad made a speech. There was a lot of confusion,” Rand had told him. “Balloons, confetti, sixty white doves flying everywhere. Then, Dad lifted his glass, and there was a shot. His glass shattered…I was stunned. We all were. Then people started to scream. At first we thought…we thought he might be dead, but thank God, the bullet only grazed his cheek. Nobody else was hurt. Dad grabbed Mom’s hand and pulled her to the ground for cover…” That night, Rand’s emotion-packed words had Wyatt’s skin crawling. Just as it was now. It was ironic, Wyatt mused, how Joe may have saved the life of the very person who wanted him dead.
Emily’s shaky voice brought him back to the present. “I tiptoed in my room and before I saw him I knew I was not alone. Someone was there with me and I was scared, thinking that whoever it was had come back for Dad.”
From his hip pocket, Wyatt retrieved a handkerchief and, tipping her chin, dabbed at the tears that ran down her cheeks. Several passersby cast her a curious look.
“Wait until you’re ready, sweetheart,” Wyatt said. “In fact, if this is too painful, you can tell me another time.”
“No!” Emily gave her head a vehement shake. “I’ve been waiting to talk about this for months now. I want to tell you. It’s just…hard.”
“I know.”
“Anyway once my eyes adjusted, I could see a man—a stranger—hiding behind the drapes, near the bed. And, Wyatt, he had a knife.”
Emily looked up at Wyatt and he gave her shoulder a squeeze.
“I thought I was going to faint, but somehow I managed to stumble down the stairs and out the front door. He—” Emily swallowed “—he followed me.” Wyatt closed his eyes. “What’d you do?”
“Kept running until I remembered the alcove where Liza and I would play when we were kids. The entrance is easy to miss if you don’t know it’s there.”
Wyatt was filled with brotherly admiration. “Wow. Quick thinking saved your life.”
“It was instinct. Oh, Wyatt, I’ve never been so scared in my life. I hid in the alcove until sun up. All I could think to do was hide. Somewhere. Anywhere.
“After a while, this really nice older trucker picked me up and told me he was headed to Wyoming. Wyatt, it seemed like a sign. Dad had been harbored here, back when he was a little boy and the McGraths fostered him. So, I climbed into his truck, and here I am.”
Wyatt gestured down the street. “The McGrath farm where Dad grew up in Nettle Creek is only a few miles from here.”
Emily’s smile was wan. “I know.”
“Are you okay now?”
“I still have all kinds of bad dreams. And I’m not using Blair as my last name anymore. Everyone here knows me as Emma Logan.” She blinked up at Wyatt. “But I think I’m pretty safe here.”
“Let’s keep it that way, okay, Emily…Logan?”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“I’d better get you back to work now. But listen. I’m staying across the street at that little hotel,” he pointed to The Faded Rose, a quaint, pale yellow building with flower baskets adorning the porch. “Room 102. You call me if you need anything, okay?” Standing, Wyatt pulled her to her feet.
“I will.” She slipped an arm around his waist as they walked back to the grill. “Wyatt, I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you here.”
“I’m glad, too.”
He held the door open for her and Geraldine, noting Emily’s blotchy, tear-stained complexion and red-rimmed eyes, scowled.
“Geraldine, I’ll be back on the floor in five.”
“I’m here, honey. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
“I don’t think Geraldine likes me,” Wyatt murmured.
“She’ll come around.” Emily moved to the other side of the counter, poured him a cup of coffee and motioned for him to take one of the empty stools. “Can I get you something to eat?”
“Yeah, come to think of it, I’m starved. The special will be fine. And, Em, before you go, listen. I know it’s going to be hard, but you are going to have to continue to lay low until Austin and Rand have enough solid evidence against Patsy to bring to the police.”
“Poor thing. Something awful must have happened to make her this way.”
Wyatt’s admiration for his kid sister jumped up yet another notch. Trust Emily to have compassion for the woman who tried to end her life. Again, she reminded him of Annie. “Oh, and one last thing. I know Keyhole is a growing town, but I just wondered if you’ve ever met a woman named Annie Summers. I heard from Rand that she kept her maiden name when she married. Anyway, he says she owns an antique store in the area.”
Emily nodded. “Of course I know Annie.”
“You…do?” Wyatt felt his stomach clench.
“Sure. Keyhole’s not that big. She owns Summer’s Autumn Antiques, next door. I used to help out there on my days off. Annie and I are friends. In fact, that’s her over there.” Emily pointed to the other side of the restaurant. “She comes in for lunch with her twin boys, Noah and Alex, pretty much every Saturday.”
Wyatt felt a bolt of lightning blast through him the likes of which he’d not experienced since that Valentine’s kiss, so many years ago. Slowly, his gaze followed the direction Emily pointed and, for the first time in years, settled on the wonderful face of Annie Summers. Luckily, she was too busy to notice him and he took the time to look her over.
She hadn’t changed a bit.
She was neither graying, nor age-spotted, nor knock-kneed, or even snaggle-toothed, the way he’d hoped. No, she was still the smooth-skinned, fiery-haired young woman that he’d fallen in love with back in college. In fact, if possible, she was even more attractive than before. Motherhood definitely seemed to agree with her. Even though she had two kids now, she was still as trim as ever. Her facial features had lost their girlishness and were now more angular and womanly, highlighting the enormity of her eyes and the fullness of her lips.
Unnoticed, he watched as she interacted with the two frolicking puppies that were so obviously her sons. Her kids had creased a permanent smile into the corners of her eyes and mouth and she looked content in her new life. More than content. Happy.