Bougainvillea (6 page)

“And we couldn't care in the least if Josh has a hot date!” Shelley, his daughter, teased. “Damn, but, you know, Seamus sure looks great,” she added. “He seems so alive again! He seemed really depressed there for a while.”

“Uncle Seamus is going to live forever, the tough old bird,” Josh said, still grinning.

“Josh,” Lenore remonstrated.

“As well he should,” Michael said.

“He was so depressed when he heard about Mark dying,” Eli, Shelley's brother, said softly.

“But now he's excited again, because he thinks he's going to see Kit Delaney down here soon,” Josh told him.

“
I'm
excited!” Shelley said. “Kit and I were in first
grade together—at least part of it. Then her mom died, and…”

“That's what was getting to old Seamus, I think,” Josh interrupted her. He leaned low against the table. “Shades of guilt! The deadly siren of Bougainvillea drowns, and only the good Lord knows what was really going on!”

“Marina liked to drink,” Martin Callahan reminded them all quietly.

“She liked to do a lot of things,” Josh said, his words light, and yet rueful.

“Josh,” Michael said softly. He felt a surge of unease. Strange, it was still too easy to remember the days when Marina had been here. A woman so stunning and full of energy that she had set the entire place on edge. He knew for a fact that Seamus himself had been captivated by his cousin's wife, just as he had been himself, Michael was honest enough to reflect. Both Josh and David had been teenagers at the time, and they had idolized her. Even Eli and Martin knew what it had been like to fall beneath her spell. He would never go so far as to say that Marina had actually been evil, but close. She had loved her power, and loved knowing that she'd had them all tripping over themselves because of her, arguing and making power plays. Well, she was dead, God bless her. But now… “That girl shouldn't be coming here,” Kaitlin said flatly. Kaitlin wasn't a member of the family. Not exactly, and certainly not in a normal or accepted manner. She had worked for Seamus for over twenty years. Like Seamus, she sometimes reminded Michael of Dorian Grey. Surely, she had an aging picture of herself stashed somewhere. She
had to be in her early forties now, and she still had the face and figure of a twenty-year-old. As well she should. As Seamus's personal assistant, she had been extremely well paid for all those many years. She had ample time off, and lots of vacations.

After all these years, Michael thought with some amusement, his wife still hated her. Not that Lenore was wearing so badly. His wife was quite an attractive woman as well. She kept her hair the deep dark auburn it had always been. She was blessed with huge hazel eyes that hypnotically ruled her face. She spent a day every week at the spa, where God alone knew exactly what they did. Hell, yes, the women at Bougainvillea either fared very well…

Or they died.

“Kaitlin! Why on earth would you say that? I'm dying to see Kit,” Shelley said.

“If she looks as much like her mother as she used to, I'll be darned excited to see her again, too,” Eli said.

“Eli,” his father warned edgily.

“Hey, Dad, I'm not a teenager anymore. All right, so we all had silly little crushes on Kit's mother. That was so long ago. But Kit was an adorable little girl.”

“And she shouldn't come here,” Kaitlin repeated.

Annoyed, Eli stared at her. “Once again, why would you say that?”

“Why would I say that?” Kaitlin arched a perfect, blond brow. “It's going to be miserable. She'll be all wide eyed wanting to know about her mother. And we'll all have to lie and say ridiculous things, because we all know her mother was a wretched little slut.”

“Kaitlin!” Lenore said, horrified.

“Come on, now, she's been dead a very long time,” Michael said.

“Let's be honest—she should stay that way,” Kaitlin said. She rose, walking to the buffet and drawing a cigarette from an old humidor.

“Don't light that in here—Seamus will go through the roof,” Josh warned.

“Whatever, I say that Seamus wants Kit Delaney here, and he'll get her here, and she'll stay, no matter what it takes,” Martin said. “Trust me, I know the man. Whether it's guilt or what, he hasn't been his usual self since David brought him the news that Mark was dying.”

“Thank God he at least let the man die in peace!” Shelley said softly. The others stared at her. “Well, for good reason, Mark hated the place. He wouldn't have wanted to know that his daughter was going to return.”

“We don't know that she will return,” Eli said.

Kaitlin let out a long sniff. “If she's anything like her mother? You bet she'll come. She'll sniff out the money in this place in seconds flat.”

“And if she's anything like her mother, old Seamus will fall for her, and we might just find ourselves all out on our little rumps in the cold, huh, Kaitlin?” Josh said lightly as he stood up. “Good night, one and all.”

He kissed his mother on the forehead, lifted a hand to Michael and the others, and left.

“How on earth do you let him get away with talking like that? Honestly!” Lenore said to Michael.

He couldn't help but smile at his wife. “Because maybe he's speaking the truth, hmm? Martin, Eli, anyone for a brandy?”

“I'd love one,” Kaitlin said. “Eli, be a dear, and bring it to me on the porch? I'm dying for a cigarette.”

Dying for a cigarette.

Those were the last words Marina Delaney had said in this very room, before she had run out of the house.

Dying…

And she had done just that.

Michael felt a chill sweep through him, and he knew why.

He didn't want Kit Delaney back here. The very idea of it all but caused his limbs to gel. He was afraid.

Very afraid.

And he knew, as well, he wasn't the only one.

* * *

“It's not as confusing as it sounds,” David said, leaning back on the sofa, sounding somewhat affectionately amused. He and Kit had opted for dinner in the room—quite impressive, since the suite came with a butler and the food was excellent.

“There were the three original partners—Seamus, my grandfather, and your grandfather. Seamus has a son, Michael, there's his wife, Lenore, and their son, Josh. My grandfather had my father, who had me. Your grandfather had your dad, who married your mother, and had you.”

“And everyone but me lives at Bougainvillea?”

“That's not as weird as it sounds, either,” he assured her. “It's not just one house. There's the main house, Seamus's place, and then all the cottages around the lagoon. Don't you remember?”

“Actually, I do,” she murmured. “I remember the lagoon well, and the paths around it that head down
to the beach. And there was a darling little bridge that connected the land where the lagoon went on out to the sea. Is it all still there? I was thinking that, after all these years, a storm might have altered it somewhat.”

David shook his head. “It's all still there. So, when are you coming down? You could fly home with me after the convention.”

She smiled and laughed. “Wow! That would be fast.”

“Fast is good.”

She sobered somewhat. They'd shared an incredible bottle of Cabernet.

Fast is good.

And it would be.

Ah, well, Jen would be proud of the sensations sweeping through her, if no one else. The mood in the suite was far too relaxed. She was sitting on her own side of the sofa, but she wasn't immune to temptations of simple pleasure. He had changed into a pair of soft, worn blue jeans and a long-sleeved knit shirt. Very casual. She had changed, too, but in the opposite direction. Not knowing he had decided to order in, she had gone for a business dinner staple, a sleeveless black cocktail dress. At least thirty minutes ago, however, she had shed the heels she'd been wearing. Her stocking feet were curled beneath her. They'd talked about art and photography, boats, weather, the construction projects in Boston, the wonders of Chicago, and gone back to Bougainvillea. It had been a long day filled with trepidation for her, at first. She would love to lean back…actually, she would love to lean against his shoulder, or stretch out with her head in his lap.

She sat straighter.

“There's no time like the present, or something like that,” David said.

A slow smile curved into her lips. “Actually, there is. I have to go home to Chicago.”

“Why is that?”

“I have a cat.”

“Where is he—she?—now?”

“He's at a neighbor's who has to leave on a sales trip this weekend.”

“Hmm. Maybe we can send for the cat.”

“I have to work as well. It's a syndicated strip,” Kit reminded him.

“On day-to-day life. Imagine what new fuel you'd have for the machine, coming to Bougainvillea.”

“Oh?”

“Well, there's Seamus, who is the real deal. Old South. A ramrod. All courtesy and graciousness—while he's gripping the neck of his competitors. Michael, who works in the business end of the company, but hates it. He wants to take off in a sailboat and write the great American novel. He should, too—he's good. Then there's Lenore, who wants to be the great lady of the South, which is funny, in its way, because the community is so very Latin American, very progressive. Still, you know, she belongs to all the right clubs, hosts charity events, and plays the grande dame. Josh is about my age, and pretty much deep into the business as well. I'm better at money and naturally, any legalities involved, while he's better at design. Kaitlin could fill you in on the what and where of the Miami club and dating scene—she's Seamus's assistant. We've
great neighbors, by the way. I think you actually went to school with Shelley Callahan.”

“Shelley. Sounds familiar,” Kit told him.

He laughed. “Maybe we are a bit of a weird group, because Eli and Shelley still live at home, too. It's an old place on the property, much smaller than Bougainvillea, but it had a carriage house, which is Eli's now, and a garage apartment, which is where Shelley lives. She's your age, and getting her master's degree in literature at the university. Eli became a cop. Their father, Martin, is a retired cop, and just does a lot of fishing now. They're actually more like family than neighbors, since we've shared holidays, dinners, and what have you ever since I can remember. Oh! We've also got one of the most wonderful and fascinating women you'd ever want to meet living on the property. Mary is a hundred and one.”

“Mary!” Kit swung her feet down. “She's still living! My, Lord, she seemed ancient when I was a child.”

“You remember her?”

Kit nodded. “She was a sweetheart…wow, I remember more and more, actually. Lenore was this glorious, rather imperious beauty who…didn't particularly like me. And…” She paused, frowning. “I don't remember my mom being there in the afternoons. After school, kindergarten, whatever it was. So I would sneak out of the main house as soon as I could, and go to the cottage. And Mary always smelled like gardenias, and she'd make me tea and give me little sugar cookies. I would love to see her again, thank her.”

“She's a hundred and one,” he warned. “You can't wait too long.”

Kit grinned. “I won't. I'm curious as all hell about
the place. Except that…hmm.” She fell silent. How could she explain to him that there was something in her memory that disturbed her about the place?

“Except that what?”

She shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Did your father say something negative about the place?”

“No. He never talked about it at all.” She realized that her words were only a minor lie. He had never talked about it at all. Not until he had spoken that final word. Bougainvillea.

“You miss him a great deal, don't you?”

“Of course. I adored him. He was an incredible person. Wise, funny, always helping me, encouraging me. Even when he was in pain, he could make jokes about the hospital, his doctors, and all the little ironies of life—and death. He thanked me for being such a great daughter, and he gave me all the strength and peace I needed to go on. Of course I miss him.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Thanks,” she said lightly, not wanting to grow morbid. Then she stood resolutely. She was going to go to bed before she spent any more time with him. Jen would be disappointed, of course, that there wouldn't be any details. But she wasn't as trusting as Jen. Not that her friend could be called promiscuous, certainly not by current standards, but Jen was a big believer in chemistry. It was there, or it wasn't. You trusted, or you didn't. Knowing someone a great deal of time couldn't change any, either.

“Would you mind if I crashed?” she asked. “It's been a really long day for me.”

“Not at all.” He stood, not to stop her, but merely in a polite gesture.

“Good night,” he told her. “By the way—what time do you need to be back at the convention center in the morning?”

“Nine, nine-thirty, somewhere around there.”

“I'll see that the butler has breakfast here by eight.”

She couldn't help but grin. “Mind if I invite Jen over? I told her where I was. She wants to see the place.”

“Absolutely. Bring her.”

He remained standing while she walked to the stairs. As she ascended, she heard him ordering breakfast for three. Before retiring, she tried calling Jen's room, but her friend was out. She left her a message to join them in the suite at eight.

That night, she dreamed of Bougainvillea. Not so much of anything in particular, but just of being there. She could almost feel the breeze, damp sand beneath her feet, and see the riot of color caused by the bougainvillea creeping over the walls of the main house and cottages. The sensation was at first incredible, sweet as the clean sea air. Then, it was as if shadows fell, darkening everything around her.