Home for Love (15 page)

The first entries in the book were about parties, balls, the boys who courted Eliza Rose. Eliza's handwriting was bold and impatient, so scribbled in places that it was barely legible. She'd obviously been a restless girl who wanted something more than the endless parties chaperoned by her parents. She wanted adventure, and one day she found it. Kate bent her head closer to the diary, scanning the words that had been dashed off so excitedly:

June 30, 1920

Something wonderful happened last night! It all started out as a lark. I climbed down the trellis after dinner to meet Cora, and we sneaked off to the theater. The play was marvelous, absolutely scandalous, all about a man who steals wives from unsuspecting husbands. Cora kept hiding her head in a shawl, but I wanted to see and hear everything. The villain was so dashing, a hopeless rogue, but no wonder none of the wives could resist him!

It was awful when the curtains went down. I didn't want any of it to end. Cora nearly fainted when I told her we were going backstage, but I dragged her with me. All I wanted was another glimpse of the villain. And then he was standing right in front of me, still wearing his silk waistcoat and his powdered wig. I could barely talk, but somehow I managed to tell him how much I enjoyed the play. And he just looked and looked at me. He has very intense, very blue eyes.

He asked us to go for coffee with him. Cora refused, but it was just as well. Michael and I sat in the cafe for hours. He looks even better without the wig. Curly brown hair, going bald just a bit, but I like that. All he's ever wanted to do is be an actor. I told him he'd be terribly famous someday.

He'll only be here another week. But anything can happen in a week!

July 6

Mama and Papa are in a dreadful temper. They caught me sneaking into the house last night. Michael got safely over the hedge, but they know all about him now. It's for the best. They can't stop us. I love him. And I know he loves me.

July 29

Still no letter from Michael. But I know he hasn't forgotten me—no matter what Mama says! Is it possible she was ever in love? I don't think so. Michael has to finish the tour of the play, that's all it is. He'll write. And he'll come back for me.

There were no more entries in the diary. Only a dried smear of ink where perhaps a tear had fallen those many years ago. Kate examined the pages again, tantalized by the mystery. Had Michael ever come back? Or was he a rogue even when he wasn't wearing his powdered wig and silk waistcoat?

Kate leaned back against the wall, her hands wrapped around the diary. She wanted to find out so much more about the history of this house. It seemed that the old place had known many emotions—heartbreak and despair, but surely happiness, too. She hoped Eliza Rose had found her Michael again and that she'd been happy with him.

Not too long ago, Kate would have wished for something else entirely after reading this diary. She would have wished that Eliza Rose had created a happy and productive life all on her own, without waiting for Michael to provide it for her. Surely that was more important than anything else. How could Kate forget so quickly? She had started to change inside, from the very first moment she'd met Steven. But she didn't want to change, didn't want to be as vulnerable as Eliza Rose had been all those years ago.

Kate glanced at her watch and grimaced. Her time had run out. She put Eliza's diary back in the chest, laying the tissue-wrapped dresses on top of it. Then she climbed back down the ladder, brushed off her pants and straightened the shoulders of her blouse. She was as ready as she'd ever be for her induction with Far Horizon Enterprises.

A short while later Kate's Bug wheezed painfully up Nob Hill and pulled into the drive of a hulking, dark stone mansion. Steven's Mercedes was already parked there. Kate sat in her car for a moment, smoothing back wisps of windblown hair. Even Mrs. Cleeve's sprawling house could not compare with this imposing mansion. Kate suspected that her trial run with Far Horizon was going to be quite a job.

She slid out of her car, glancing about at the smoothly manicured lawns, at the evergreens and hydrangeas that had been severely pruned. They looked like men who'd had their hair cut too short at the barbershop. The flowers in the garden were lined up in perfectly straight rows, as if measured out with a yardstick. Kate wondered if unruly flowers were yanked up by the roots. She shuddered, then advanced up the steps.

Two stone statues guarded the doorway—knights in chain mail with ill-tempered faces peering out through their visors. Kate tried to ignore them. Before she had even raised her hand to the knocker, the door opened swiftly and silently. A young man in a butler's uniform gazed at her lugubriously.

"Yes, madam?"

"Hello! How are you today?"

He gave her a suspicious glance.

"Um, I'm Kate Melrose," she said. "I have an appointment here…"

"Of course. Please come in." He stood back, and Kate walked into the gloomy interior. The windows were draped in dark brown velvet; all the furniture was made of heavy dark wood. Kate skirted a monstrous coat stand. The thing reminded her of a gnarled old tree that had been struck by lightning. She half imagined she saw branches reaching out to grab her as she went by. Shivering again, she followed the butler down a hallway. His brown hair was cut to severe shortness, though one unmanageable shock stood up in back. Kate wished she had a beach ball to bounce off his head. He was too young to behave so sedately.

Before she could reflect on this idea any further, Kate found herself ushered into the drawing room. And there was Steven talking to Gloria Nestor, his head bent toward her. Kate bit her lip, feeling a stab of pure green, animal jealousy. Then her mouth quirked wryly. At least "green" was an appropriate word when thinking about Gloria. Today the woman was wearing a soft knit dress the color of shamrocks. It outlined her curves, but not blatantly; she looked feminine and businesslike at the same time. She was also perfectly groomed. Kate suddenly became aware of the smudges still adorning her trousers, and wondered if she had cobwebs in her hair from Steven's attic. Oh, well, she liked cobwebs.

Steven was regarding her sardonically. Her heart pulsed in her throat as she gazed back at him. Tension crackled between them.

"My," Gloria murmured. Kate wrenched her eyes away from Steven and tried to listen as Gloria continued after a pause, "Steve and I are both so glad that you agreed to give Far Horizon a chance, Kate. I want to introduce you to your new client, Miss Marietta Win-field."

Kate glanced about the room. Gradually her eyes discerned a very small, very old woman huddled in the corner of a huge horsehair sofa. She gazed out fearfully as Gloria led Kate over to her.

"I'm so pleased to meet you," Kate said, sitting at the other end of the sofa. The horsehair prickled her legs, but she sensed it would be best not to shift about. Marietta looked like a sparrow that might go fluttering away at any sudden movement. Her gnarled hands were plucking nervously at her brown taffeta gown; the stiff material covered her primly from her fragile neck to the tips of her toes. Her gray hair was dressed in the elaborate fashion of bygone years, the coquettish ringlets and curls somehow fitting against the wrinkles of her face. She intrigued Kate, most of all because she seemed so reluctant to have this meeting.

"Miss Winfield, why don't you tell me about your plans to redecorate the house," Kate began, feeling her way cautiously.

But even this appeared to be too much for the old woman. "Oh, dear… plans…" Marietta's voice was like a rustle of dry leaves in an autumn wind. She said nothing more, her face looking pinched and worried.

Gloria had taken a seat in a chair close by. "Yes, do tell us about your plans," she urged. "Marietta's niece is quite thrilled about them, Kate. Brenda Farrell— surely you've heard of her."

Kate nodded absently; she'd seen the name a few times in the society columns. She waited patiently for Marietta to speak.

"The furniture must go," Marietta finally murmured. "Even though it has been in the family for years and years…" She patted her hand gently along the arm of the sofa.

"Oh, yes," Gloria said. "Brenda has already chosen some glass tables and an organic sofa unit. Light and airy. She's encouraging Marietta to go for an uncluttered look." Her gaze zeroed in on a bookcase that was crammed with knickknacks. Marietta's small, gnarled hand lifted to her throat in a gesture of alarm.

Kate examined the room again, making her own assessment. Most of the furniture consisted of massive, ornately carved Victorian pieces, ugly but in superb condition. The few Hepplewhite items were a welcome contrast, with their simple and graceful lines.

Kate's gaze came to rest on Steven. He was standing at the one window where the draperies had been pulled aside, and his tall figure was silhouetted by the light. She couldn't see his features, but she could tell his attention was focused on her. She turned back to Marietta.

"Miss Winfield," she said, "I want you to forget about Brenda and the rest of us for a minute. Just tell me what
you'd
like to see here in this room."

"Why… I don't really know…"

"Kate…" Gloria said, a warning edge to her voice. Kate ignored her.

"I think I sense what the problem is, Miss Win-field," she went on. "You don't want your house turned upside down all of a sudden. But have you thought of a few new touches here and there? Perhaps that little rug in front of the fireplace could be replaced. Something with a hint of pumpkin, you know. And how about a few lovely vases to display your flowers from the garden?"

Marietta's brown eyes were suddenly hopeful. "Yes…yes, that would do nicely. I'd much prefer that. If only Brenda would listen…"

"Just tell her exactly what you want, and exactly what you
don't
want," Kate said cheerfully.

Gloria stood up, anger flashing across her face. But a second later she was composed again. "Marietta, I think it would be a good idea if I started showing Kate the rest of the house," she said. "We won't take too long." She waited for Kate to follow her out to the hall, then motioned the way into another drab room and closed the door.

"What happened just now with Marietta was really my fault," she said pleasantly. "I made a judgment error by not explaining the situation fully to you beforehand. Brenda Farrell is one of Far Horizon's most influential investors. When she told me that she was helping her aunt redecorate this house, I promised to do all I could to assist her. As you can see, Marietta is quite indecisive—she needs the guidance Brenda's providing. I don't want to undermine that."

Kate ran her hand over a lace tablecloth, which was obviously a family heirloom; perhaps Brenda wanted to get rid of it, too.

"I can't agree with you, Gloria," Kate said firmly. "To me it looks like Brenda's forcing her aunt into a decorating job the poor woman doesn't want. Marietta Winfield would be lost if her house were completely done over. She needs stability and continuity."

"You've barely met her! How can you possibly know anything about her?"

"It's obvious how she feels," Kate returned. "You could see it yourself, if you'd only open your eyes."

Gloria gestured at a lamp shade with a rotting fringe of brownish red.

"Look around you, Kate. Surely you realize this whole place is pathetic."

"Given a free hand, I
would
change just about everything," Kate said. "But that's not the point. I have to respect the needs of my clients. With Miss Winfield I would move very, very slowly. I'm sure she does want some change… but just a little."

Gloria rested her hand on an ornate captain's chair. She went on being pleasant. "I think I had better repeat this to you, Kate. Brenda Farrell is one of Far Horizon's most valued investors and I don't want to alienate her."

"Does this house belong to her?" Kate asked.

"No, of course it doesn't. It belongs to Marietta."

"I suppose Brenda will inherit it someday," Kate said reflectively. "That would explain things. She's just getting a head start on her own decorating ideas."

The anger sparked back into Gloria's face. "Her motives are none of your concern! At Far Horizon that's another thing you'll have to remember."

"Very well," Kate answered. "But I'm not going to help Brenda Farrell make her own aunt miserable."

"Think about what you're really saying," Gloria instructed coldly. "Think about it carefully and perhaps you'll want to revise it."

"I'm saying that Brenda Farrell has no right to take over this house before it's actually hers!"

Gloria paced among the heavy, elaborate pieces of furniture that probably had not been moved in generations. She emanated a tension that jarred in this room where time had stopped.

"I wish Steve could hear you the way I do," she said. "Somehow you believe that you should never have to compromise. That takes a certain arrogance, but Steve thinks you're so independent, so unique. He wanted to make sure you didn't lose any freedom at Far Horizon. I've tried to accommodate him on that, I really have."

"Why?" Kate demanded. "Why do you even want Melrose Designs at all? I wish you'd explain that to me."

Gloria smiled contemptuously. "It's very simple, Kate. I knew that once you were at Far Horizon and competing in the real business world, Steve would see you're not so special, after all. Just a common, ordinary drudge like all the rest of them. You could never climb very far at Far Horizon. You see, it takes something truly exceptional to succeed in a corporation like that—an ability to follow the rules and at the same time reach higher than anyone else. You just don't have that."

Kate listened with quiet scorn. "It was all a lie, then," she said. "You didn't actually plan on giving any opportunities to Paula and Max, the way you promised."

"Of course I did, if they could prove they deserved those opportunities. My offer was legitimate—I do play fair. It's just that I knew you'd flounder eventually in spite of that, Kate. I didn't expect it to be so soon, that's all."

"I suppose you thought I'd be easier to control."