Home to Eden (9 page)

“I try to look after myself,” Callista replied, dismissing her amazingly youthful good looks as if she had far more important issues to consider.

The truth probably was that Callista McClelland in her mid-forties didn't want to grow old, Nicole thought. She steeled herself to follow the woman up the stairs.

“Would you like coffee, Nicole?” Drake called after her.

“Lovely.” She paused to look back at him. Why was she really here? To suit his ambitions? However wary she felt, her heart gave an involuntary buck at the sight of him. He was a marvelous-looking man; one arm leaning on the banister, those vivid chiseled features, eyes glimmering against his tanned skin, little flames at their center.

Beware, Nicole. Be very careful around this man. Don't fall under his spell. It would be so easy.

“Settle in, then I'll take you on a tour of the house,” he promised.

“I'm looking forward to it. Everything looks great.”

“Callista must take the credit for that.”

“I do it out of love, darling,” Callista said smugly. “I was very privileged to grow up in a beautiful house. I can't imagine how I'll cope when you marry, Drake, and I'm no longer chatelaine.”

Now there's a thought!
Nicole wondered if the future Mrs. Drake McClelland should be warned.

The bedroom was large, bright and airy, a mix of modern and antique pieces, the color scheme sunshine yellow and pristine white. Two lovely flower paintings decorated the walls. A nice change from the over-the-top sumptuous bedroom Siggy's decorator had created for her, Nicole thought in relief. Sunlight streamed in across the broad veranda, giving the room a welcoming glow. On a small console table that held a charming silver-gilt bust of a young girl was a bowl filled with lilies and trails of a silver-gray native vine. Nicole approached and touched a white petal. “How lovely! Your arrangement?”

“Of course. Arranging flowers is quite beyond Annie.” Callista dismissed Kooltar's housekeeper's creative abilities with a wave of her hand. “I love beautiful things. I had the flower paintings hung in here. I hope you enjoy them.”

“French.” Nicole moved closer. “I'd say that one is by Jacques-Emile Blanche.” She was too far away to read the signature. “The other—”

Callista butted in, apparently not pleased by Nicole's ability to identify the works of famous artists. “Louis Gaillard. Signed and dated 1888. You're right, the other is a Blanche. I forgot you were an artist.”

“
Am
an artist, Callista. I still paint.” Nicole sent Callista one of her own looks of feigned sweetness.
“I've had two successful showings in New York. As tough an art scene as you'll find. But I don't paint beautiful flowers like these.”

“What do you paint?” Callista's eyes gleamed with an odd challenge.

“Journeys of my mind.” Nicole's mouth twisted a little as she said it. “Visions.”

“I take it they're not happy paintings full of light?”

“Some of them, in fact, are rather monstrous, but certain people lock into the emotion. They sell. Every trace of cheerfulness was knocked out of me years ago.”

“You still see a psychiatrist?” Callista looked at her guest with anything but sympathy.

“Not for a long time, but it's helpful to sit on a couch and have a highly trained professional listen to your problems. I credit Dr. Rosendahl with helping me to face life. I'll always be grateful to him. Actually I'd like to see him now that I'm home. Perhaps I'll invite him to Eden if he has the time.”

Something flickered in Callista's metallic gaze. “Unfortunately for him, he has all the time in the world. Don't you know, Nicole? Rosendahl is dead. He was killed in a hit-and-run accident leaving his Sydney office.”

Shock blocked Nicole's throat. She could see the doctor's kindly distinguished face as clearly as if he stood before her. “No one told me.”

“Your aunt should have known.” Callista shrugged. “It was in the papers. We do manage to get them, if a bit late.”

“When was this?” Nicole felt sick.

“Oh, six or eight months ago. It was a small item.
I expect Sigrid missed it, or else she didn't want to upset you. I mean, you can't have many emotional resources.”

Briefly Nicole debated how best to answer. Spirit won out. “On the contrary, I think I've met the challenge of facing up to my daunting past, Callista. What about you? Have you successfully mastered your pain?”

Callista bristled. “Never. I'm a woman who feels very deeply.” She gripped her throat in a dramatic gesture that struck Nicole as playacting. Callista was the perennial young girl trapped in a middle-aged woman's body.

“So what you're saying is you wish to cling to the unhappy past?”

Dislike was written all over Callista's unlined face. “Don't be so naive, Nicole. The past is always with us. We can't just shed it.”

“You don't want me here, do you?” Nicole spoke quietly, prepared for Callista's reaction.

“Why so melodramatic? This is Drake's house. He invites whom he pleases. I would never go against him. You and I can work something out between us. We're both adults, but you know as well as I do we can never be close. You are your mother's daughter. You even have her voice. Extraordinary thing, genetics. Because of Corrinne I suffered a terrible loss.”

Nicole looked back urgently. “I know that and I'm deeply sorry. But I know all about loss, too. It makes me want to weep. The difference could be I'm trying to deal with it. Feeling such terrible resentments can only be a burden to you, Callista. Don't you want to lay them down?”

Callista's dark eyes were unblinking. “Then I'd be breaking my emotional connection with my brother. I adored him.”

Nicole lowered her head. “I acknowledge that, but he's gone beyond human adoring, Callista. He's passed on.”

“Which doesn't mean I won't see him again.” Callista hugged her body tightly. “I don't expect you to understand.”

“Why not? Can't you allow my heart is broken, too? In my case, it was a mother.” She turned away to compose herself. “I think we should stop there, don't you? Before anything else is said.”

“I agree. Life is hard. It really doesn't matter, anyway. Soon you'll go back to New York, get on with your life, as will I. Of course, I may have to rethink my situation after Drake marries.”

“You think he has someone in mind?”

“My dear, it's an open secret. Karen Stirling. You know her. Lovely girl! Simply stunning. We get on extremely well. We have long talks when she visits.”

“Does she have this beautiful room?”

“No.” Callista gave a highly suggestive little laugh. “She prefers to be closer to Drake, if you follow my meaning. I expect they'll announce their engagement very soon.”

“That's curious. Drake didn't mention a word about any engagement. I imagine a man on the brink of proposing to the woman he loves would want to tell the world.”

Callista ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the little antique writing table. “Even as a child you
thought Drake was your property.” Her smile was nastiness in full flight.

“We were friends, Callista. We hope to be friends again. Forgive me, Callista, but I can't think Drake is truly in love with Karen. I do remember her as warm and friendly. Perhaps you simply want him to be.”

Callista's exhalation was sharp. “I knew it would be impossible for us to have a normal conversation. You're like your mother. One of those women who can't let a man go. Possessive to the end. Make no mistake—Drake is serious about Karen. He wants to marry a woman of good family, not someone with a tainted past.” She spat out the words, choking with the bitterness she didn't seem able to transcend.

“You never let go, do you?” Nicole retorted. “Well, better to have it out in the open, I suppose. I've only stepped across your threshold and already I'm a threat. Would you be brave enough to repeat the ‘tainted past' bit in front of Drake, I wonder?”

Callista closed her eyes briefly, holding a hand to her throat. “I'd deny I said it. You might remember, my nephew is very loyal to me. I've devoted my life to him.”

“Forgive me, but it seems you've devoted your life to your own private hell. I don't appreciate being told I'm a member of a tainted family, Callista.”

“I didn't say that.” Callista backed off.

“But you did. Please don't underestimate me. I'm no longer a child you can taunt and push over the edge. I'm a woman. I've taken my life in hand. I'm only here for a visit. I don't want unpleasantness. We can be civil to each other, surely?”

“Why not?” Callista gave a peculiar laugh. “I've found I can do anything if I put my mind to it.”

Nicole didn't doubt it. Unbidden came the sickening image of her mother's battered body sprawled over a desert boulder.

C
ALLISTA EXCUSED
herself from sharing coffee, saying it was time for her afternoon ride.

“I'm sure you have lots to catch up on!” She bestowed a gleaming smile on Nicole. She had small white pearly teeth she was obviously careful to look after.

Round one to Callista. Nicole had long since learned that Callista chose her moments to release her venom.

“Enjoy yourself,” Nicole called cheerily, not to be outdone.

All would have gone according to plan had the housekeeper, Annie Prentice, not picked that particular moment to enter the garden room carrying a laden tray.

“Here, let me take that from you,” Nicole offered, rising. Annie was of the same vintage as Dot.

The housekeeper, whose eyes had been on the tray, looked up to respond.

When she saw Nicole, she let out a disbelieving wail, and the tray fell from her hands.

Such clumsiness might have happened on a regular basis, given Callista's furious response. “Watch out!” she cried, moving as deftly as a prima ballerina out of harm's way. The coffeepot went over, splashing hot
liquid all over the tray and onto the floor. Big spatters reached Nicole's legs, mercifully protected by her blue cotton slacks, but for seconds she keenly felt the heat. The two coffee cups and saucers flew through the air to crash on the unyielding terra-cotta floor tiles.

“Annie, I'd have sworn you could handle just about anything!” Drake shook his dark head in mock amazement. “But I'll need a double brandy after that.”

“I'm so sorry.” The housekeeper was the picture of despair, shoulders shaking, tears in her eyes as if she'd just pulled out of a triathlon.

“Settle down, Annie. No real harm done,” Drake soothed. “What about you, Nicole? That coffee was hot. Did it burn you?”

Her legs were smarting a little. “I'm fine. I'll pop upstairs and change in a minute.” She looked at the housekeeper with a sympathetic smile. “Did I startle you, Annie?” Hadn't she shocked the Barretts when they'd first caught sight of her?

Annie, a sturdy woman, put a hand to the comfort of her large bosom. “For a minute there, I thought you was a ghost. What was I going to do?”

“Turn and run?” Drake asked thoughtfully.

“Then I realized, it's you, Miss Nicole, all grown up.”

“How are you, Annie?” Nicole's smile widened.

Whatever Annie's answer was to be, Callista wasn't in the mood to hear it. “Don't just stand there gawping, Annie. Clean this mess up.”

Whatever happened to niceness? Nicole wondered, resenting Callista's attitude on Annie's behalf.

“Yes, ma'am. I'm on my way.”

Annie seemed to have all the attributes of that dying breed the faithful retainer.

“Take your time, Annie,” Drake said, coming to the besieged housekeeper's defense. “You're out of breath.”

“Shock, sir, and my rackety old ticker. Miss Nicole is the spitting image of her mother, that beautiful creature. I'm just horrified I dropped the tray. I wasn't prepared.”

Again Callista displayed her anger and impatience. “Okay, so you were surprised, Annie. Nicole is the image of her mother. Would you please clean this up and make fresh coffee? Leave that, Nicole.” She eyed Nicole, who was busy picking up the broken pieces of fine china, with disapproval. “Annie will attend to that. It needs a dustpan and brush.”

“I've got most of it, anyway,” Nicole said mildly, thinking she wouldn't speak to a feral camel the way Callista was speaking to the housekeeper. “I'll change out of these slacks. Won't be long.”

“Let me have them and I'll make sure there's no stain,” Annie called after her.

Nicole turned. “I'd appreciate that, Annie. I'm not exactly sure what you use to treat coffee stains.”

“I do,” Annie responded with relief. “I'm so sorry, dear.”

“We're all agreed you're sorry, Annie,” Callista said in the same sharp voice. “Go get the mop,” she ordered. “You've broken the set. Those coffee cups are very expensive.”

It was a wonder she didn't say she was going to deduct the cost from Annie's wages, Nicole thought, moving off.

Pausing on the stairs—she overheard Callista say crossly it was high time they traded Annie in.

Oh, well, why bother about loyalty? Nicole stood stock-still waiting for Drake's reply. If he agreed with his absolutely awful aunt, she'd be back on Eden before midafternoon.

Mercifully his answer came with calm authority. “Annie stays, Callista. I'm not about to lower the boom on her. She's always been a good worker and very loyal. You shouldn't have been so harsh with her.”

“If you ask me, her shock at seeing Nicole was far less than mine,” Callista answered. “I wonder you can ignore this thing, Drake.”

“What thing?” Drake sounded exasperated.

“What a mistake it is having Nicole here.”

Nicole knew she should go on her way, but she didn't want to miss anything. She gripped the banister with one hand. Obviously she hadn't changed much since she was a child trying to catch the grown-ups' hushed conversations.

“We've already discussed this, Cally,” Drake said in a voice that should have given his aunt pause. “Don't fall apart on me. It's my decision. I don't like you to be upset, but I don't answer to anybody.”

“But there's a potential for trouble here, dear. More and more trouble.” Callista was back to her dramatic mode. “Can you blame me for worrying about you?”

“What hurt could Nicole inflict?” Drake's tone was soft, but there was little doubt about the steel beneath it.

A long silence, then Callista's tense reply. “We'll see.”

Heed the warning, Drake,
Nicole thought, shaking her head. Not a chance she could ever win over Callista.

 

I
N HER BEDROOM
she changed her coffee-stained slacks for a turquoise skirt printed with hibiscus. The garment was light and cool and went well with the white tank top she already wore.

I've only myself to blame for coming here.
Siggy had warned her. So had Joel. Within a mere ten minutes of their meeting, Callista had revealed her hostility. Callista was a woman frozen in time. She had even made it clear to Drake she didn't want Nicole on Kooltar. Not that Callista had much say. Drake would do exactly as he pleased. It shamed Nicole slightly to realize she'd only agreed to come because the thought of spending time alone with Drake was irresistible. Despite everything that had happened between their families, she found herself more drawn to him than to any other man she'd ever met. And she'd met quite a few through Carol, all of them interesting, attractive, eligible. Yet in so many ways, now as in the past, he was her ideal.

When she returned to the garden room, made sensuous by the profusion of plants, the furnishings and the collection of huge Javanese glazed pots, fresh coffee had already been set out on a low marble-topped table.

“No scalds I hope?” Drake asked, rising to his feet, his eyes moving over her pretty skirt.

“A little pinkness that will fade. I'm ready for that coffee. Shall I pour?”

“Be my guest.” Amusement played around his handsome mouth.

“Callista was a little harsh with Annie,” she ventured, passing him a cup.

He sighed. “Callista always overreacts. It's the way she lives her life. I guess most people would call her emotional. She seems to be hurting all the time, but I don't have the answers.”

“It's a lonely life, Drake. Frontier life. She doesn't have the support of a marriage.”

“She's had her admirers,” he said, shrugging. “They never seemed to come up to her standards. As for me, I'm all for frontier life. I don't covet life in the big cities. Even New York, which I've visited a few times, as you know. Like everyone I found it very stimulating, but the desert is my home. No better place on earth. Callista, too, is tied to it. She's still a very attractive woman. It's not impossible she could find the right man.”

He'd have to be a very tolerant individual, Nicole thought but didn't say. “Perhaps she's too anchored in the past. This house, however grand, must reinforce her sense of separateness. She mentioned to me that she'd face changes when you marry. She's lived dependent on you. Dependent on Kooltar.”

He took another long sip of his coffee, then set the elegant coffee cup, a lucky survivor of the broken set, back in its saucer. “Callista is financially independent. She is, in fact, a rich woman.”

“I know that. But money, for once, is not the problem. I mean she's emotionally dependent. Are you happy with your role?”

For a moment he was silent, his striking face som
ber. “My aunt is an especially vulnerable woman. I would expect you to understand that.”

“Believe me, I do. But she doesn't want to get better.” She recognized they were getting into the familiar series of thrusts and parries.

“I've tried strategies, Nicole. I've failed. Callista is harboring all manner of resentments and guilty feelings. Most of the time she's sweet and gentle. Then she has short lapses into suppressed rage. As I expect you do.”

“Okay, I admit it, but I'm not as rude as she is. But you won't hear any criticism of Callista, will you?”

He shook his head slightly. “She's family.”

“You had no hesitation attacking Joel. He's my family.”

“I didn't exactly attack him. I just thought a few things needed to be brought to your attention.”

She sighed in exasperation. “But, isn't that interference?” A pause. “I couldn't help overhearing Callista say I can only bring trouble.”

His gaze was very direct. “So you're back to your old trick of listening on the stairs, are you?”

“It wasn't often I heard anything good.”

He laughed. “It never stopped you. You know darn well what Callista means. She's afraid I'll fall in love with you.”

Nicole tried not to let her reaction to that show. “Who knows your intentions, outside yourself?” she said breezily. “Aren't you and Karen Stirling almost ready to announce your engagement?”

His eyes came up to hers. “I've already told you that's not true. Callista continues to cherish hopes. She and Karen get on well.”

“An absolute necessity if they're going to cohabitate,” she said. “Or maybe after the marriage the position might alter. It wouldn't be the first or the last time. It would be fairly easy for a charming young woman like Karen to butter up Callista.”

“Something you're not likely to do,” he retorted.

“Not when she feels such enmity toward me.”

“You're overstating it.”

“Not at all! You're too smart not to see it.”

“I can handle it, Nic. Can you?”

She tossed back her auburn hair, suddenly feeling caged. She ignored the question and said, “Look. I'm desperate for answers. Do you believe what happened was murder-suicide or just plain murder? You said yourself the coroner did a poor job. No one believed it was an accident. Dr. Rosendahl didn't. He had theories that, as they were just theories, he wasn't prepared to discuss. He's dead, did you know?” She swallowed, trying to rid herself of the throb in her voice.

He looked genuinely shocked. “Good God, when did this happen? He can't have been all that old.”

“Apparently there was a piece in the papers, but it was very hard to find. Or the breeze blew that particular page away.”

“Try to stay with the facts, Nic. Sigrid told you?”

“Callista told me,” she said flatly. “She seemed quite pleased to. One might be forgiven for thinking she would have told you, as well, but she must have thought you wouldn't be interested. Anyway, he and I lost touch over the years, but I thought the world of Jacob Rosendahl.”

“As well you might. He was a fine man. Highly respected. What did he die of? Heart?”

“A hit-and-run accident some six or more months ago. I intend to follow it up.”

“It's the sort of thing one would want to follow up. I'm really sorry, Nicole.”

“There could be a killer out there,” she said slowly. “It's almost liberating to say it. I want that person caught and punished.”

“If there is such a person. The official finding was an accident.”

“You fear my investigation?” She looked at him.

“I fear for you is more like it.”

She shrugged. “I can look after myself. I can't afford to be soft. It was suggested they fought. Let's consider it.
We
fight.”

“You look for it more than I do. My uncle suffered a breakdown. He was never the same after your mother married Heath Cavanagh.”

“Are you suggesting he decided to end both their lives?”

His face contorted with pain. “In regard to your mother and no one else, my uncle was slightly mad.”

“When you all had Heath Cavanagh as the villain?”

“Nic, I was fourteen years old. Just a boy. I'm no expert on human relationships all these years later. But I've had plenty of time to think.”

She set down her cup carefully. “We all withdrew, instead of being open.”

“Being open calls for great wisdom and understanding. Terrible grief disrupts those abilities. The inner rage and the hopelessness take precedence. The shock
was so great no one was acting rationally. Violent death has a horrible way of tainting the innocent families. We all carried the burden.”

“Don't you want to know, Drake?” She knew she was almost pleading. “This is an unresolved conflict. The theory that my mother grasped the wheel and caused the accident is at odds with what Heath told me. He said she was a pussycat compared to me.”

In response, Drake made a deep mocking sound in his throat. “I distinctly remember a little tiger.”

“I have a temper,” she acknowledged. “God knows I've got the red hair. Who else do we have as a suspect? Some psychopath passing through? It has happened. Men on the run make for the Outback. Somewhere they can easily hide. But then, why and how could a man like that do such a thing?”