The Color of Love (12 page)

The orgasm jolted her. Her hips jerked, once,
twice, three times, and she shot out an arm to catch her balance. She moaned, a
long sigh of relief. God. When had she last come so hard? Thighs loose, heart
hammering against her ribs, she quickly finished showering, dried off, and
dressed, all the while aware she’d just imagined Emily May making her come.

Just a trick of the unconscious. Nothing
more.

She walked through the park, a glint of early
a.m. sun snaking down through the trees, most of which were just beginning to
leaf out. The air, not yet fouled by exhaust, hinted at spring. Aud was already
ensconced in a booth with a steaming cup of coffee in front of her and another
across from her. Derian slid in. “Morning.”

“Hi. I ordered for us.”

Derian added cream and sipped the strong
brew. “What did you get me?”

“Please,” Aud teased. “It hasn’t been that
long. Like I could forget what you’ve ordered for the last ten years? Fried egg
and bacon on English.”

“Thanks.”

Aud looked ready for a day at the office,
sharp and fashionable in a gray pinstripe jacket, a textured linen shirt in a
paler shade of gray, and a diamond pendent set in dusky gold glinting in the
hollow of her throat. A matching bracelet circled her right wrist and a gold
Rolex adorned her left. One ring—an engraved signet—gleamed on her right hand.
Not showy, but everything about her spoke of power and privilege. The look
suited her well. Derian doubted she actually spent much time in court.
Corporate lawyers with wealthy clients like Winfield Enterprises usually
settled issues with money. Long drawn-out court battles just interfered with
business as usual, and that’s what really mattered. That the money kept
flowing.

“Any word on HW?” Aud’s shoulder-length blond
hair framed her face in loose layers, and her clear green eyes regarded Derian
with questions. For an instant, she looked like the tender, supportive
confidant she’d once been.

“I haven’t heard anything from the hospital,
so I hope that’s a good sign.” Derian’s chest tightened and she pulled herself
out of the past. She and Aud were strangers now, their bond one of shared
memories, memories of different times, when they’d been different people. “I’m
going to run by there when we’re done.”

“Have you talked to Martin?”

“Why would I?”

Aud sighed. “Because he’s your father?”

“Come on, Aud. You know better than that.”

“Life would be a lot easier if the two of you
would actually communicate now and then.”

“Easier for who? For you, probably.
Definitely not for me.”

“You know he wants you in the business.”

“No, he doesn’t. Not unless I undergo a personality
transplant and change my internal wiring at the same time.”

“You are a voting member of the company,
and—”

“Right. That’s what matters to him, that we
present a solid front. I’m not going down that road. Maybe I got lucky and
nature did me a favor.” Derian rubbed the faint headache between her eyes. “You
know I’m not cut out for business, even if I was capable.”

“Oh, come on.” Aud sighed in exasperation.
“You’re perfectly capable. You’ve got a mind like a calculator and we both know
it. So does Martin.”

“Maybe so.” Derian took a bite of the
sandwich the waitress slid onto the table in a quick wordless pass. Funny, the
old favorite had lost its appeal, like so many things that shone in hindsight
and paled in the present. “But the last time I attended a board meeting—”

“Uh, excuse me? When was that—three, four
years ago?” Aud speared a section of omelet and shook her head. “The board
members might be inclined to take you more seriously if you actually showed up
now and then.”

“They made it perfectly clear I would never
sit in the big seat.” Derian sipped her rapidly cooling coffee. “I think I
heard the words
image
and
irresponsible
tossed around quite a lot.”

“You could change that, Dere. All you’d have
to do is come home, show some interest.”

“Sure, if I
had
any interest, which I don’t.”

“God, you’re stubborn.”

“And you’re not?” Derian pushed her plate
away. “Have you ever thought you’re starting to sound an awful lot like
Martin?”

Aud’s eyes cooled. “I’m your friend, Derian.
And I also happen to be looking out for your interests, even if you like to
pretend they don’t matter.”

Derian blew out a breath. “You’re right. I’m
sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Aud smiled faintly. “I’m
just trying to get you to look further ahead than your next race. You’re in
line to inherit, and it might be good if you and Martin were on speaking terms
so you’d have some idea—”

“You mean he hasn’t changed his will yet and
made Daniel his heir?”

“You know I can’t talk about that.”

But there was something in her eyes. “He has.
But he can’t cut me out all altogether, can he? Because of the terms of my
trust fund.”

“I can’t comment on that.”

“But you know, and you still push me to
return to the fold. Why?”

“Because you’re wasting your life, Dere,” Aud
snapped.

Derian laughed. “Really? This from someone
who copped out? Whatever happened to family law and serving the public sector?”

“It’s not a cop-out to follow family
tradition,” Aud said stiffly.

“It is when it’s not what you wanted.”

“Maybe when I was eighteen I didn’t know what
I wanted.”

“Maybe when you were eighteen you did, and
now you’ve forgotten.”

“I’m happy with what I’m doing, proud of my
work.”

“And I’m happy with my life.”

Aud’s shoulders sagged and she slumped back
in the booth. “Do we always have to fight when we see each other?”

“Maybe we wouldn’t if you’d stop trying to
talk me into a suit and an office.”

“Maybe I just miss you? Maybe I’d like to see
you more than every year or so. Dammit, Derian. I love you.”

Derian let out a slow breath. “Come on, Aud.
We’ve been down that road too.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” Next to HW, Aud was the person
who knew her best, who she trusted the most, even after all they’d been
through. They’d grown up together, dreamed together, been best friends, and
briefly, sweetly, young lovers. They’d managed to stay friends even after their
romantic stage had waned, at least until the halcyon days of college ended and
they’d had to move on. They’d both made choices that had taken them in opposite
directions, but she still remembered the dreams, and the sweetness. “I miss you
too.”

“Enough of this.” Aud reached across the
table and took her hand. “I’m sorry about Henrietta. She’s going to be all
right.”

Derian squeezed Aud’s hand, and for a moment,
she remembered when the two of them stood against the world. “She damn well has
to be.”

*

Emily woke before her alarm, switched it off,
and padded into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. At just after six, she
cradled the mug in front of the window, wrapped in her favorite pink fuzzy
robe, thinking about the day ahead. And purposefully not thinking about the
night before. When snippets of conversation floated into her head, or some
tactile memory of Derian’s hand on her arm flooded through her, she firmly set
the images aside.

Mentally, she constructed her to-do list. She
needed to get to the office to confer with Vonnie about covering Henrietta’s
appointments. More importantly, she wanted to assure everyone that business as
usual would continue. She was familiar with the day-to-day workload after six
years at Henrietta’s side. She’d already taken on most of the manuscript review
and contract negotiations, and she’d just have to make room in her day for the
ones Henrietta still handled. She’d find a way. As soon as everyone was in,
she’d schedule a meeting with the division managers and get updates on all the
current projects. Thankfully, Winfield’s staff were experienced and
loyal—they’d all pull together until Henrietta returned.

Emily’s throat tightened. Of course she would
return. Resolutely, she washed her cup, set it on the drainboard, and dressed.
As much as she wanted to go directly to the hospital, she’d be doing more for
Henrietta to take care of the agency Henrietta had nurtured and grown for
thirty years than to sit outside her hospital room worrying. Besides, Derian
was there, Henrietta’s family, to take care of her. So she would take care of
the agency, her family.

Taking care of family was what mattered more
than anything else, and she had to put that first, as she always had.

She checked her watch. Seven p.m. in
Singapore. Pam would probably be in bed, but that didn’t matter. She just
needed to reach out to the rest of her family. Her call was picked up after
half a dozen rings.

“Alexandra Residential Care Center. How may I
direct your call?”

“Floor three, please.”

“Hold on.”

Another moment passed. “This is Adlina.”

“Adlina, hi. It’s Emily May. I just wanted to
check on Pam.”

“Hello!” Adlina’s smile came through the
line. “Let me get Yi Ling.”

“Thanks.” Emily smiled. No amount of money
could be too much for this kind of personal care, from men and women she
trusted with the person she loved most in all the world.

“Hi, Emily,” Yi Ling said brightly. “She had
a good day. A heron mating pair built a nest by the little pond at the far edge
of the back lawn. She sat outside most of the day, and you know how much she
loves to watch the birds.”

“I do, thanks.”

“When will you be coming by again?”

“Not for a few months, I’m afraid. But will
you tell her that I called?”

“Wait, wait.” After a pause. “Go ahead. Here
she is.”

“Pam? Hi, Pam.” Emily pressed the phone
harder to her ear, willing her sister to hear her voice in the silent world
where she dwelled. Every time she called, she waited, breathless and frozen in
place, for the sound of Pam’s voice, once so full of life and wild adventure.
“It’s Emily. I’ve been thinking about you. I love you, Pam.”

Seconds ticked by. The sadness never eased.

“She knows, Miss Emily. I know she does.”

“I know, Yi Ling. Thank you.” Emily hung up,
the memory of Pam’s voice undiminished after a decade.

Fifteen minutes later she was headed to the
office, a sense of relief driving out the lingering sorrow. Strange, how work
had become her safe place. She let herself in on the ground floor with her key
and took the stairs to the top floor, looking forward to a free hour or so to
review the month’s calendar and organize her agenda. No one should be in until
at least seven thirty.

Vonnie’s desk was empty, but a light shone
behind Henrietta’s partially open office door. Vonnie must have come in early,
like her. She pushed the door open and stopped abruptly.

“Oh!”

A woman she didn’t know sat behind
Henrietta’s desk. Midfifties, short jet-black hair cut in a sharp edge at jaw
level, attractive in a thin, knifelike kind of way. Dark suit, white shirt,
unsmiling eyes.

“Can I help you?” Emily said when the woman
stared at her as if she were the one intruding.

“I don’t think so.”

“Might I ask what you’re doing in Ms.
Winfield’s office?”

The woman smiled thinly. “I am Donatella Agnelli.
I’ll be in charge from now on.”

Emily sat behind her desk, a cup of tea she
couldn’t remember making cooling in front of her, an untouched pile of
manuscripts on one side and her laptop open and waiting for her by her right
hand. She didn’t drink the tea, scan her emails, make a list of the manuscripts
she intended to review that afternoon, or schedule the author calls she wanted
to make before lunch. She didn’t pull up the latest marketing plans for the
fall release schedule from their biggest publishing clients. She didn’t get to
the proposals from the rights department on what titles to present at the
International Rights Conference.

She didn’t do anything at all except gather
her scattered wits and struggle for some kind of perspective. The panic
ballooning in her chest, making her breath short and her head light, was
totally unwarranted. The last twenty-four hours had shaken her world, but she
could fix that—she’d been through far worse. She just needed to be rational and
ignore the fear clutching at her throat. She’d survived the phone call that had
destroyed life as she’d known it when she was eighteen years old. Of course she
could handle a passing disruption now. She had to.

Emily sipped her cooling tea, pleased that
her hand was not shaking. There. Better. The constriction in her chest eased
and she mentally ticked off what she knew, and what she needed to know. First
and most importantly, Donatella Agnelli’s reign would only be temporary.
Henrietta would be back soon and everything would return to normal. Even as she
thought it, wished it, she knew it wouldn’t be true. Henrietta would be fine,
everyone knew that, but she wouldn’t be able to run the agency as she always
had, with a finger in everything, working fifteen-, sometimes eighteen-hour
days, regularly outpacing many of the younger staff. She’d want to, Emily
didn’t doubt that, and any changes in her schedule would have to be subtle
ones. Emily and Vonnie would have to wage a stealth campaign to shift some of
Henrietta’s workload to senior people without her knowing it, but as long as
Henrietta was at the helm, behind that enormous desk that could probably float
Manhattan if a second flood of biblical proportions suddenly arrived, business
would return to normal.

Until then, where exactly Donatella Agnelli
had come from and what her agenda might be were the critical questions. Vonnie
might know who she was, and if she didn’t they had to find out. Perhaps she
didn’t have the power she seemed to claim. Her proprietary occupation of
Henrietta’s private space rankled. So disrespectful, so unfeelingly arrogant.
Emily drew a breath. Perspective, she needed perspective, especially now when
her emotions were riding roughshod over her reason. She didn’t know the woman,
and she was probably being unfair. Usually she was far more methodical and
clearheaded when faced with a challenge.