Bougainvillea (10 page)

“Honestly, David, you've got to talk with Mayor Solquist—he thinks that you must run for public office, that you're perfect. Ah hah! And there she is. Kit Delaney. You little tomboy, all grown up, and back home. Married!” She punched David on the shoulder and gave him a coy, reproachful look. “What a surprise. I know Seamus told you to find our girl and bring her home, but did he tell you to marry her?”

“Marriage was my idea, Lenore,” David said dryly. “Where is Seamus?”

“Let me say hello to your wife. Kit, dear, welcome home.”

Lenore kissed Kit on both cheeks, her smile welcoming, her eyes cold. Kit murmured a thank you, withdrawing from the woman's hold as quickly as she could. She was startled to feel a mixture of warmth and wariness as she met Lenore. She hoped she didn't betray her unease, but even as she drew away from Lenore, a man approached them, grinning from ear to ear. She immediately knew that he was a Delaney, his sandy hair showing a few signs of coming gray, his eyes a steady hazel. His eyes bore a twinkle of merriment, and his smile was generous. “Kit! I'm Michael, remember me?”

He gave her a simple, warm hug.

He seemed honestly glad to see her. She was grateful.

“I admit,” she told him, “most of my memories are pretty vague. But thank you, the party seems wonderful.”

“My wife's idea, of course.”

“Quite a bit for a first night here, don't you think?” David asked Michael.

Michael shrugged. “My thought exactly, when I saw the tents arriving. But, you know Lenore. She likes things done up larger-than-life.”

“Come dear, you must meet some people!” Lenore said, sweeping over for Kit like a stalking vulture.

Kit found herself whirled from group to group. She was introduced over and over again: the Tylers—a wonderful political family; the Herrerras, owners of a
local business featuring the finest Cuban cigars made in Miami; Nadia Jamison—simply born rich, a philanthropist in the area, Lenore informed her on the side. There were the mayors, their wives, sons, daughters, lawyers, doctors, historians, architects, sailboat makers, racers, divers, documentary producers and more.

Somewhere in it all, she met Josh, who was very much like his father, warm, definitely a Delaney, a handsome fellow with a continual dry grin that seemed to take in all life. Josh seemed amused and pleased to see her, and once she had spoken with him, she thought that she remembered him—vaguely. Kaitlin came purposely to find her, introducing herself, though reminding Kit they knew one another. “Actually, I was your baby-sitter now and then,” Kaitlin said. “I was in my teens when I started working here, then on my way through college for a business degree. Seamus helped me out a great deal.”

Kit assured her that she remembered her, and she did, but very vaguely. She wondered what the woman might have been like then, because she was quite incredible now—a platinum blond with immense, seductive dark eyes and a way about her that was sheerly elegant and sensual, almost as if she were a cat, toying with most people, sleek and ready to pounce when the right moment came. Though Kaitlin's words to her were pleasant enough, and she smiled a lot, as if truly welcoming Kit, there was an edge about her. As if beneath it all, she resented Kit and her marriage.

Shelley rescued her from hearing the entire history of how the flamingo came to be in Florida, introducing her to her brother, Eli. He was a tall guy with dark
auburn hair as well, a smattering of freckles, and a pleasant smile, and her father, Martin, from whom the red hair, hazel eyes, and freckles apparently came. Both seemed far more laid-back and real than most of the people at the party. Martin, especially, was funny, and took the time to tell her how sorry he was about her father, just how much she looked like her mother, and how beautiful Marina had been.

Talking to him, she again felt a faint stir of memory and nostalgia. He seemed exceptionally nice, a great father figure.

It was as she was standing with them that she heard her name called in a deep, husky voice, filled with a trembling emotion.

She turned. She knew instantly that she was coming face-to-face with Seamus Delaney, after her many, many years away.

“Kit…Katherine Delaney. You've come home.”

She knew that he was in his late seventies. He moved with the ramrod assurance of a much younger and very powerful man. He was tall and lithe, but his shoulders still showed an imposing breadth. His eyes were bright blue, his head was still well covered with thick white hair.

He resembled her father so much, before the illness had set in, that for a moment, her breath was caught.

But only a moment. He strode through the crowd toward her, paused a moment, his smile deep, and then said, “Welcome.” He wrapped her in his arms as if he were indeed welcoming back a long-cherished and deeply loved child. Still holding her, his eyes alight
with a smile, he said, “I cannot tell you how good it is to see you, how wonderful it is to have you here.”

“Thank you,” she said. And she smiled ruefully. “You gave me a bit of a start. You look so much like my father.”

He shook his head. “I was the older—your father looked like me,” he informed her. He studied her for another long moment. “And you, my dear, are the exact image of your mother.”

“So I've heard.”

“It's a compliment, you know,” he said. “Marina was probably the most gorgeous creature to walk the earth.”

As Kit thanked him again, she saw that Lenore had been within hearing distance. She seemed to let out something of a snort, quickly concealed, before she turned away.

Seamus might have noticed because he excused himself to Shelley and her family and set his arm around Kit's shoulders. “Let's escape for a minute, shall we? Are you too tired? I think that Shelley's plan had been an intimate dinner, just her family and ours. Lenore likes everything a bit outrageous, you know. None of us had any idea she had planned…this.”

“It's fine,” Kit said. “Might as well plunge right in.”

He looked at her sharply. She arched a brow to him.

“Sorry, but you just sounded exactly like your mother, too. So rash, impetuous—and ready to rush in. Do you remember?”

“Well, of course, I remember her. Just not very well,” Kit admitted. “But I didn't remember a great deal, until I arrived.”

“I'm afraid you'll remember more and more,” he said with a sigh.

“I already realize that she wasn't particularly liked by everyone,” Kit told him honestly.

“Let's go to my library. We'll talk there.”

They entered the main house through one of the oversize sets of French doors that led out to the patio. They came through a massive family entertainment area with a mammoth television screen set amid a cabinet filled with electronic devices. The back room crossed through to a hallway. Kit saw a formal dining room and kitchen and breakfast nook to the left, and a living room to the right, just to the side of the stairway. They mounted the stairway to the second level.

“My suite is this way,” he said, directing her to the right.

His door opened into a masculine office with a fine desk made of what he told her was Dade County pine. Windows opened to the rear; they could see the party going on below. Upholstered leather chairs sat in front of a fireplace—lots of the old places had them, even in Florida, he told her. It could go into the thirties—if only for a few days—in winter, and once, just like in the rest of the country, a fireplace had provided heat.

They sat in the chairs that faced the unlit hearth. “Jealous!” Seamus told her.

“Pardon?”

“If any of the old bats hated your mother, it's because they were jealous,” he said.

She had to smile. “Oh.”

He shook his head, somehow lost in memory himself. “She was too impetuous, I'll tell you that.” A deep
sigh trembled through him. “Confident and reckless. The night she died…she was angry with everyone, I think, and so she walked out to the lagoon, and plunged into the water.”

“You don't think that she—that she tried to kill herself?” Kit said.

Seamus shook his head emphatically. “Marina Delaney? Never! She could swim like a fish, and she was prone to popping out into the water at any hour of the day or night.” He arched a brow. “You still swim, don't you? When your father left here, he was heartsick, hated the ocean, the water, even the sun and the moon, I think.”

“My Dad was the most incredible man on earth,” Kit said, her pride and affection mingling with the pain of loss. “He taught me everything he thought important. I was on my high school swim team. I never saw him in the water, but he never stopped me.”

“Good, good. The water is part of life down here. Of our lives, anyway. We build boats, you know. Some of the best in the country. Sea Life racers enter almost every important event across the country.”

“So I understand. And Michael, your son, designs them?”

“Some. I still design myself. And Josh…Josh is showing a real talent. Michael doesn't want to do anything but live out his dream—taking off on one of the sailing vessels and cruising the Caribbean endlessly. Your husband is the one with the real nose for business, you know. There were times when, I admit, in the last years, we might have lost the whole shebang. Your fellow kept us afloat. But there must be something
about the place—maybe in the water!” he said with a wink. “David has his camera out all the time. He has a real artistry with it. And you—I've seen your strips, of course. I've followed them since you started.”

“Why didn't you ever…why did I go all these years without hearing from anyone here? I know that the pain of my mother's loss sent my father away, but…”

“When Mark left here, he was running, yes. And he didn't want to be reminded of Marina or anyone or anything here. I understood that. And later, when I thought he might relent, I wrote to him. He said that he could never bear to come back here, and that life was good in Chicago.”

Kit nodded. She was startled to feel a bit of resentment. She understood her father's pain. After all, she had been a child suddenly bereft of a mother. But still, her heritage was here…and he had kept her from it.

“You're here now!” Seamus said, still eyeing her as if the most incredible treasure had been set before him. It was a pleasant feeling.

“Come, I'll show you something.”

Seamus rose suddenly. She followed.

They went back into the hallway. He pointed to the door to Kaitlin's office. She had a little bungalow down by the lagoon, but there was a futon, full bath, and even a little kitchenette in her office, just for those nights when business became too hectic. “Sometimes, we're up all night because we deal with customers all over the world,” Seamus said.

Then he opened a door to the left.

There was a scent of jasmine on the air. Subtle, below the surface, but there. A silvery white negligee
was lying over the bed. Along with the scent of jasmine, there was something a little musty. Windows opened to the rear of the house, and the curtains drifted inward on the breeze, which carried with it the faint sound of conversation and music below.

“This was your folks' room. I never changed it. I never allowed anyone in it. I've spent all these years thinking that one day Mark would come back, and I'd have everything just as it was. Then he could go through your mother's belongings, and his own. Find some sweet nostalgia, and maybe even ease his heart.” He paused for a moment, and in that time, he suddenly looked very old. “Feel free to come here, whenever you like. Actually, the house is yours, the run of it, anytime. I wish that your husband liked the main house, but he doesn't. Your luggage has already been taken to his place. It's the cottage closest to the water on the dock side of the lagoon.” He looked at her, studying her again. “I hope, however, that to humor an old man, you'll spend a lot of time here, with me. There's a lot of family history here.”

“Of course,” Kit told him. She hesitated then, and walked into the room, fascinated. This was where they had lived together, her parents. She had a vague memory of running into the room, bouncing onto the foot of the bed, and throwing herself into their arms. For a moment, she remembered her mother clearly. Laughing, scooping Kit up close to her, and hugging her tightly. She felt a sweet elation, certain that, whatever her mother's faults might have been, Marina Delaney had loved her daughter.

Kit tentatively walked to the open doors overlooking
the porch, and the party. Lenore had invited at least a hundred people. They milled everywhere.

The view from here was excellent. She could see the lagoon, the dock, the wooden jetty. The pool was off to the left side of the house. The bungalows and cottages dotted the banks of the lagoon. She saw Shelley with a group of young people, eschewing a fancy glass and drinking her beer from the bottle. Eli and Martin Callahan were deep in discussion with Josh.

And David…

She searched the crowd and saw him deep in conversation with Kaitlin. The beautiful blond had her hand on his shoulder in a proprietary manner that brought a little shudder to Kit's heart. What was Kaitlin now? About forty? And David was thirty-seven.

Impulsive…

Marina had been impulsive.

And she was like her mother. Strange, the way that she had fallen head over heels for David, never questioning his past.

She was suddenly certain that at one time, in some way, David had been involved with Kaitlin.

She was still staring out at the scene below when Lenore found them.

“What on earth are you two doing up here? Seamus, I want Kit to meet Lara Kinney, who sponsors the theater. She's very important, dear.”

Seamus nodded, offering Kit a secret smile and widening his eyes slightly with amusement. “You must go meet the very rich and famous,” he told her. He winked. “They buy newspapers and sometimes, I believe, even read comic strips.”