Redemption in Love (Hearts on the Line) (24 page)

Several hours later, he got a reply.

There aren’t many recent photos
,
but we’re reasonably sure she’s Barron Sterling’s granddaughter
.
Her full legal name is Kerri Jacqueline Wilson
.

HOUSTON WAS JUST AS HOT and sprawling as Amandine remembered. She’d been there once, when Jacob and Catherine had gotten married. They’d decided to have the ceremony in the city they would call home.

How things had changed since then.

A uniformed driver was waiting for Amandine and Brooke at the airport. “To Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Lloyd’s residence?” he asked, apparently briefed on her itinerary.

The reference to Catherine as “Mrs. Jacob Lloyd” sounded discordant to Amandine. She hadn’t thought of her cousin that way for weeks now.

“Yes,” Brooke said, her gaze on Amandine’s face.

Bigger than Gavin and Amandine’s home in L.A., the mansion boasted ten bedrooms and twelve baths, plus a giant pool, a nine-hole golf course and indoor and outdoor tennis courts. The latter had been an addition. Catherine was a superb tennis player, and she occasionally invited her friends over for a friendly match.

Would Catherine have to file anything with the court to be free of Jacob? Would she be entitled to anything?

Amandine hated the idea that Catherine might be left penniless. It would simply be too cruel after the loss and humiliation she’d suffered.

The trees and shrubs on the other side of the iron-wrought fence had lost their neatly trimmed look. As the driver pulled up to the entrance to the grounds, Amandine noticed a splatter of bird poo on one of the gates, and the lawn clearly needed to be mown. Had Catherine really fired all her staff?

The chauffeur stopped the car and rang the intercom. A few moments later, he said, “There’s no answer.”

Amandine frowned. “Try again.”

He did. “No luck, ma’am. Do you have the security code?”

“No.” They weren’t that close. No, that wasn’t quite true. They’d drifted apart after Catherine and Amandine’s respective marriages. “Give me a second.”

Amandine didn’t have to ask. Brooke pulled out a phone, dialed and handed it to her.

Amandine sat with the phone ringing in her ear. This was the house phone, and it was set up so that once it rang, you could hear it from anywhere in the house. Amandine frowned and tried Catherine’s cell phone. No answer.

“I can’t get ahold of her,” Amandine said.

“Maybe she moved out,” Brooke said. “Or moved back with her folks.”

“Doubtful.” Catherine had never gotten along with her mother, and with her father gone, there’d be nobody to act as a buffer between them. Olivia had always been of the opinion that Catherine should marry for money and pedigree. Someone “worthy of her”. She considered Jacob Lloyd’s blood not
quite
blue enough for her precious daughter.

The Fairchilds were a good family, southern aristocrats, while the Lloyds weren’t really southern and were nouveau riche to boot. The Lloyds had always been well-to-do, but it wasn’t until Gavin’s father and grandfather started The Lloyds Development that they’d gotten really wealthy. And that made them less than worthy in Olivia’s mind.

If Catherine went home now, she’d never hear the end of how stupid she’d been to choose Jacob Lloyd, who’d never been good enough for a Fairchild, and was a bigamist.

The driver was sitting patiently. Brooke said, “We can’t wait here forever.”

“I should’ve called first,” Amandine said. “I thought she’d be home.”

Gavin had said Catherine hadn’t answered calls or come to the company meeting. Knowing Catherine, Amandine had guessed the humiliation was too much for her to bear in public. But she might have been wrong to assume her cousin would confine herself to the mansion.

I should’ve at least called when I first heard about Jacob’s bigamy
,
instead of obsessing about what would happen between Catherine and Gavin
.

Amandine stared at the wrought-iron gates, already rusting in the Texas humidity. Why had it taken this long for her to figure out Catherine might not be the problem after all? The true issue was Amandine’s uncertainty about her husband’s feelings, not her perfect cousin. Even if Catherine were to vanish this very moment, Amandine’s insecurity wouldn’t go away. She should’ve been kinder to her cousin, who had to be suffering.

“Isn’t there any way in?” Amandine asked.

Brooke squinted at her. “Yeah… It’s called breaking and entering.”

She let out a long sigh. “Let’s go home. I’ll try again later after I call her.”

The chauffeur pulled away.

* * *

Amandine tapped her fingers on her armrests as the jet made a slow descent in Los Angeles. Brooke had a glass of white wine and was concentrating on her tablet. The cabin was quiet except for the muted sound of the engines.

A flight attendant came by to collect Brooke’s drink to prepare for landing. Once they were alone again, Amandine asked, “What are you reading?”

“A book about twins impersonating each other.”

“Comedy?”

“Murder mystery. Gruesome…just the way I like it.” Brooke put the tablet away. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m…disappointed.”

“Why? I thought you and Catherine weren’t that close or anything.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

Amandine blew out a breath. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. In some ways I’m grateful for having her as my cousin. But she has a way of making me feel incredibly inadequate.”

“Sounds dysfunctional.”

“It wasn’t easy growing up in her shadow.”

“Did she do things to make you feel bad? Dirty looks, catty comments, anything like that?”

“No, nothing. It’s just…she’s always been so perfect and beautiful.”

Brooke snorted. “Perfect? Have you ever seen her open a book?”

“Well, she’s never been academically inclined. But she has great taste, and—”

“Amandine, stop.” Brooke was shaking her head. “A perfect woman doesn’t marry for money. No matter what she looks like, or how great her taste in table china is.”

Amandine sighed. Brooke didn’t understand how practical Catherine was. “She’s still my cousin, and I should’ve been there for her.”

“Then make sure to get her some money.”

Amandine folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, that’s just cold.”

“No, what I mean is: if the money problem vanishes, maybe next time she’ll marry for love.”

Amandine frowned. Maybe Brooke had a point. Her head hurt too much to think straight.

“You did what you could by visiting her,” Brooke said as the plane hit the runway with a gentle bump. “Well, tried to, anyway. I don’t understand what you think you can do for her. She’s a big girl. She’ll be fine.”

“You’re probably right.” But she couldn’t shake off the apprehension. Catherine was the most talkative, social person Amandine knew. For her to refuse phone calls was like…Lou refusing a handful of bananas. Hard to imagine under any normal circumstances.

Amandine put her hand on a temple, massaging it. Her skull felt like it’d split in half.

As they rose to deplane, Brooke frowned. “You okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine. Just a little hungry.”

“If you want, we can stop by a supermarket and get you something to munch on.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

Amandine started down the steps to the tarmac. The sunlight seemed to pierce her head like an ice pick, and her grip on the railing tightened as dark spots swam before her.

She leaned back, grasping for something—anything—to keep her steady. Everything seemed to be spinning. She distantly heard Brooke say, “Hey!”

Then darkness consumed her and she collapsed.

* * *

When Amandine opened her eyes, she was in a tasteful ivory room. Her bed had some kind of large remote control attached to a thick cord that vanished behind her head. A flat-screen TV and a stereo occupied the wall opposite her, and two more remotes rested on a table on her right. The room smelled faintly of bleach and something medicinal underneath the scent of pine and lemon.

“You’re awake, thank god.”

She frowned and turned her head. Gavin looked down at her, his face a mask of anxiety. His hands gripped the metal bar on the side of her bed, his knuckles white.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You fainted. Luckily Brooke caught you before you could roll down the steps.” He shuddered, his chin lowered to his chest. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. You have no idea how helpless I felt when I got Brooke’s call. I was still in the air.”

“Oh.” Amandine wanted to burrow into the bed like a turtle. What was she? Some melodramatic Victorian heroine? “Sorry.”

He frowned. “What are you sorry about?”

“For causing trouble.” She thought for a moment. “How did your business in Virginia turn out?”

“Fine. I had a short meeting with Ethan to discuss Kerri. I told you there was something off about that woman.”

“So you were right?”

“Yes.”

“What’s Ethan going to do?”

“It’s up to him. He’s in charge of TLD now.”

The door opened, interrupting their conversation.

“I’m so sorry, Gavin. It’s all my fault,” Brooke said, walking in with a couple of bottles of water. “I should’ve been carrying some snacks for her. She said she was hungry before she fainted.”

“Not your fault.” Amandine swallowed. The sight of water reminded her that she was thirsty. “Can I have a bottle?”

“Here.” Brooke twisted off the cap and handed it to Amandine.

Amandine drank, then placed the half-empty bottle on the table. “Look, I’m sorry about worrying everyone. It’s really nothing. I’m fine now.” She started to push herself up, but Gavin immediately put a hand on her chest.

“Just lie there. We should wait for Dr. Silverman. She wanted to talk to us,” he said.

A tendril of fear snaked through her. She put a hand over her belly. “Is the baby okay?”

He held her hand. “The baby’s fine.”

The door opened with a single knock, and Dr. Silverman entered. A stethoscope gleamed from where it hung around her neck. “You gave us a little scare. How do you feel, Amandine?”

“Fine, now.”

“We ran a few tests.” Dr. Silverman eyed her. “Your blood pressure is high, and blood sugar level too low. Are you eating regularly?”

“Yes,” she said quickly.

“Good. You might have gestational diabetes. We have to do another test to make sure, but since your mother was diabetic, you’re at somewhat greater risk.”

Next to Dr. Silverman, Gavin tensed. “Is it dangerous?”

“If it goes untreated, yes. But in Amandine’s case, probably not. Provided she receives appropriate medical care, of course.”

“Appropriate medical care will not be an issue,” Gavin said grimly.

Dr. Silverman continued, “I’m putting you on modified bed rest. It’s for your own well-being as well as your baby’s.”

Uh oh
, Amandine thought. “What does modified bed rest mean?”

“I’ll write you some specific instructions, but basically you aren’t allowed to exert yourself. That also means no more jet-setting around. Try to relax and take it easy. I’m sure your husband can arrange for that.”

Amandine nodded. From the look in Gavin’s eyes, he was planning to hire a regiment of Marines who’d hover over her until she delivered the baby.

“Eat healthy, small meals and snacks. Follow the instructions and you should be fine.”

“Anything else we need to know about?” Gavin asked.

“No. I think she’ll do well. She’s young and healthy, and we’re on top of it.” Dr. Silverman turned to Amandine. “Don’t worry. Stress is the worst thing for you right now.”

She nodded.

“I’ll have her discharged. Have somebody with her today, and if you don’t feel well or have any concerns, please don’t hesitate to call. I’ll want to see her again next week.”

“Done,” Gavin said.

The doctor walked out.

He looked at Brooke. “Got her number?”

“Yup. Sending it to you right now.” She pressed a few keys on her phone. “Think we need more people for Amandine? If you want, I can stay with her until you’re done at the office today.”

“That’d be great. Thanks,” Gavin said. “I have a couple of appointments, but I should be home around nine.” He gazed out the window, thinking. “See if you can get a live-in nurse for Amandine, to start ASAP. Also, check to see that we have enough of the right type of food in the house.”

Brooke nodded, making notes. “I could move in until you can get a nurse.”

“An excellent idea. We’ll probably need a wheelchair as well, just in case Amandine feels too weak to walk.”

Amandine watched the discussion with her eyebrows raised, then finally raised a hand. “Excuse me.”

“Eh?” Gavin blinked as though he’d just noticed her.

“I’m right here, you know. What about my input?”

“Your input is going to be limited to doing as you’re told,” he responded.

Her mouth parted, she stared at him. There wasn’t even a hint of sarcasm in his voice or on his face. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious. You’re sick, and I’m not letting you do anything. The doctor said modified bed rest. That means you’re going to be a good girl and let everyone else take care of you.”

Amandine closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “You know that’s going to drive me nuts, right?”

“If you want, you can draw in bed,” Brooke offered.

“What if I want to paint?”

Brooke frowned. “Might be a little messy.”

“A little mess is nothing. If we have to, we’ll replace the sheets,” Gavin said. “Find one of those rolling easel things and have it modified so that it’ll fit over the bed.”

Brooke nodded. “Great.” She turned to Amandine. “When you get tired of painting, I can keep you company, and we can watch movies and shows and soaps.”

“I don’t want a house full of strangers hovering over me. And I certainly don’t want a live-in nurse. I want some privacy.”

“Absolutely not. You need somebody around to catch you when you faint the next time,” Gavin said.