The Widow and the Wastrel

Janet Dailey

Janet Dailey's Americana Series

Dangerous Masquerade (Alabama)

Northern Magic (Alaska)

Sonora Sundown (Arizona)

Valley Of the Vapours (Arkansas)

Fire And Ice (California)

After the Storm (Colorado)

Difficult Decision (Connecticut)

The Matchmakers (Delaware)

Southern Nights (Florida)

Night Of The Cotillion (Georgia)

Kona Winds (Hawaii)

The Travelling Kind (Idaho)

A Lyon's Share (Illinois)

The Indy Man (Indiana)

The Homeplace (Iowa)

The Mating Season (Kansas)

Bluegrass King (Kentucky)

The Bride Of The Delta Queen (Louisiana)

Summer Mahogany (Maine)

Bed Of Grass (Maryland)

That Boston Man (Massachusetts)

Enemy In Camp (Michigan)

Giant Of Mesabi (Minnesota)

A Tradition Of Pride (Mississippi)

Show Me (Missouri)

Big Sky Country (Montana)

Boss Man From Ogallala (Nebraska)

Reilly's Woman (Nevada)

Heart Of Stone (New Hampshire)

One Of The Boys (New Jersey)

Land Of Enchantment (New Mexico)

Beware Of The Stranger (New York)

That Carolina Summer (North Carolina)

Lord Of the High Lonesome (North Dakota)

The Widow And The Wastrel (Ohio)

Six White Horses (Oklahoma)

To Tell The Truth (Oregon)

The Thawing Of Mara (Pennsylvania)

Strange Bedfellow (Rhode Island)

Low Country Liar (South Carolina)

Dakota Dreamin' (South Dakota)

Sentimental Journey (Tennessee)

Savage Land (Texas)

A Land Called Deseret (Utah)

Green Mountain Man (Vermont)

Tidewater Lover (Virginia)

For Mike's Sake (Washington)

Wild And Wonderful (West Virginia)

With A Little Luck (Wisconsin)

Darling Jenny (Wyoming)

Other Janet Dailey Titles You Might Enjoy

American Dreams

Aspen Gold

Fiesta San Antonio

For Bitter Or Worse

The Great Alone

Heiress

The Ivory Cane

Legacies

Masquerade

The Master Fiddler

No Quarter Asked

Rivals

Something Extra

Sweet Promise

Tangled Vines

Introduction

Introducing JANET DAILEY AMERICANA. Every novel in this collection is your passport to a romantic tour of the United States through time-honored favorites by America's First Lady of romance fiction. Each of the fifty novels is set in a different state, researched by Janet and her husband, Bill. For the Daileys it was an odyssey of discovery. For you, it's the journey of a lifetime.

Preface

When I first started writing back in the Seventies, my husband Bill and I were retired and traveling all over the States with our home—a 34' travel trailer—in tow. That's when Bill came up with the great idea of my writing a romance novel set in each one of our fifty states. It was an idea I ultimately accomplished before switching to mainstream fiction and hitting all the international bestseller lists.

As we were preparing to reissue these early titles, I initially planned to update them all—modernize them, so to speak, and bring them into the new high-tech age. Then I realized I couldn't do that successfully any more than I could take a dress from the Seventies and redesign it into one that would look as if it were made yesterday. That's when I saw that the true charm of these novels is their look back on another time and another age. Over the years, they have become historical novels, however recent the history. When you read them yourself, I know you will feel the same.

So, enjoy, and happy reading to all!
 

Chapter One

ELIZABETH CARREL stepped through the door of her home, a tennis racquet tucked under her arm. It was another hot August day. The heat and exertion had combined to leave her feeling drained and exhausted as she leaned tiredly against the hardwood door.

"Elizabeth, is that you?" The mature, feminine voice held an authoritative ring.

Pushing the thick, raven-black hair away from her face, Elizabeth straightened away from the door, the vulnerable look leaving as her canvas shoes carried her farther into the brick-tiled foyer.

"Yes, Rebecca," she answered, not bothering to glance into the priceless antique mirror hanging on one wall of the entryway.

At the archway into the living room, she paused, her green eyes gazing at the smart, sophisticated woman within. Perfectly styled silver-gray hair gleamed from beneath a summer hat of blue flowers, an exact match to the opaque flowered dress of pale blue, impeccably tailored to show off the slender form of the much older woman. A brooch of amethyst and sapphires was the only jewelry. A bone-colored handbag to go with the bone-colored shoes sat on an oak table.

"I thought you would have left for your luncheon by now," Elizabeth commented.

"I would have," Rebecca Carrel replied. The melodic smoothness of her tone carried a hint of censure. "But I sent your daughter to her room an hour ago to get ready for her music lesson and she hasn’t come down yet. Perhaps you will see what's keeping her."

Elizabeth smiled wanly at her mother-in-law. "I'll see."

The stairway leading to the upper floor of the old home was in a hallway of the foyer. Her shoes made little sound on the hardwood steps, the patina of many years adding to their high polish. At the door to her daughter's room, Elizabeth paused and knocked once.

The action brought a curious smile to the full curve of her lips. It hadn't been prompted by a reluctance to enter Amy's room without permission, but by a silent demand that the formal atmosphere of the house made. After a grumbling acknowledgment from the room, she entered.

There was an understanding light in her eyes as Elizabeth looked at the sullen figure staring out the window. Rebellion was outlined in the erect frame and squared shoulders.

"Hello, Amy."

The cap of curling brunette hair turned at her mother's voice, brown eyes snapping with displeasure. "Mother, do I have to have my lesson today? Can't I miss it just once? If I was sick you wouldn't make me go."

The impulse was there to agree, but Elizabeth held it back, and walked farther into the room. Her daughter was rebellious enough as it was without adding impetus to her fight.

"I think you'd better have your lesson today. There will be other days when you'll have to miss because of some special thing that's planned," she reasoned.

"I'll bet," Amy pouted openly.

"Your grandmother's waiting for you downstairs."

"I know." The admission was made through gritted teeth. "I just hate these lessons, Mother! Mrs. Banks keeps making me do the same thing over and over and over. And that fan keeps making horrid noises and it's so hot."

"I thought you told me that you liked playing the piano." Elizabeth prompted gently, a smile held in check at the vehemence in her daughter's voice.

"I like playing the piano, but I don't like lessons and practising those stupid scales!"

"In order to do one, you have to do the other."

"Oh, Mom!" Amy sighed.

The reverting back to the less formal mode of address signalled the agreement of her daughter. This time Elizabeth didn't hold back her smile, but let the warmth of her love show through as she tilted up the downcast chin.

"You'd better get your music books and get downstairs or your grandmother will be late for her luncheon," she ordered lightly.

"The sooner I go, the sooner I can leave," Amy sighed again, widening her eyes with mock adult resignation.

"Such enthusiasm!" Elizabeth laughed softly and pressed a quick kiss on her daughter's forehead before pointing her in the direction of the door.

She didn't follow Amy down the stairs, but remained at the top of the landing near the door to her own room staring after the youthful form going down the steps. She was a beautiful child wile would be an even more beautiful adult. Unconsciously Elizabeth marveled that this exquisite little human being had come from her flesh and blood. She had long ago ceased to remember that Amy's father had played any part in the creation.

When Elizabeth stepped into her room, the photograph on the dressing table reminded her. The man in the picture was a stranger to her. Their marriage had been of such a short duration when he was killed in an automobile accident. At the
 

time, she hadn't even known she was carrying Amy. It was difficult to remember she had ever been married, so brief had been their interlude together.

Of course, she had been married to Jeremy Carrel or she wouldn't be living in his family's house today. And Amy resembled her father with her dark brown hair and eyes, but her attitude and personality was totally dissimilar to his. Jerry, who had never been a mother's boy, had accepted the role his family played in the community, society, business, and leadership. When Elizabeth had married him, he had been marking time and preparing for the day when he would take command of the Carrel law firm and its holdings from his father. Never once did he strain at the invisible bonds of what was socially acceptable as Amy did. He never did anything in excess except what was accepted.

Turning away from the photograph, Elizabeth saw her reflection in the full-length mirror standing freely in the corner of her room in its self-supporting oak frame. Her tennis whites accented the gleaming bronze shade of her shapely legs, slimly rounded hips curved into a slender waist, then the line curved back out to indicate the adult fullness of her breasts. She didn't need the reflection to tell her that she was a beautiful woman, hardly looking old enough, to have an eight-year-old child.

Perhaps, Elizabeth decided as she turned from the mirror to remove her tennis clothes, Amy's stubborness did come from her father's unshakable determination. And from her own as well. She simply hadn't been able to steer Amy's self-will into a constructive outlet. The minor rebellions seemed to have increased in the last year. Elizabeth wondered if the lack of a male figure in her daughter's life was the cause.