“C’mon, Cec. Give it a chance, will you? She’s not the kid you knew,” Richard Edgerton coaxed. “Do you know what she’s doing now?”

“I don’t want to know,” the slim silver blonde woman stated sharply. “Richard, we’ve been through this. I’m only doing this because I think I’m obligated to, and why in the world you’d think she’d confide or listen to me, I haven’t clue number one on.”

“You’re her mother.”

“I used to be her mother, Richard,” came the quiet response. “And even then, it didn’t work.”

The lawyer sighed. “She’s not a bad person, Ceci.”

“I don’t much care what kind of person she is, Richard. Now, if you don’t have anything else to nag me about, I’ve got things to do.”

“She’s coming here after she leaves your place,” Edgerton commented.

Cecilia frowned. “Then you already knew she was coming here?

Richard, I don’t have time for games.” She hung the phone up and straightened its position, then glanced around the spacious townhouse, with its neutral toned, spare furniture and its air of almost painful neat-ness. “I really don’t have time for this, either,” she murmured, with a tiny shake of her head.

Or, at least, she told herself that. Her eyes ran over the living room one more time before she moved into the austere kitchen and picked up a glass of vegetable juice she’d just pressed and sipped it slowly to settle her stomach. She leaned against the counter and watched out the window, putting everything out of her mind. Finally, the occasional car passing by outside became one that didn’t pass, but turned into the small 86 Melissa Good driveway instead. A rental car, with two passengers, and Cecilia closed her eyes at that. “You always do have to find the most difficult way, don’t you?”

She remained where she was as both doors opened and the two passengers emerged, then her eyes and attention focused on the taller of the two.

Richard was right about one thing.

Dar had changed.

Oh, she was recognizable, surely. The same tall, lanky frame, with its cap of dark hair, and the southern tanned skin. Those same blue eyes.

But the dynamics behind it had all changed. The sullen, somewhat gawky, truculent young adult she’d last seen had been magically replaced by this confident, self assured woman whose poised movements bespoke an athleticism she frankly thought her sometimes impatient daughter would have given up by now. Today, Dar was wearing something a little more familiar, jeans that fit snugly all down the length of her long legs and a simple cotton shirt tucked into the waistband, the short sleeves revealing powerful, toned arms.

Cecilia watched them walk up the long driveway, and finally, briefly turned her attention to her daughter’s shorter companion.

So.

This was Kerrison Stuart.

Interesting.

She straightened, then set her glass down very precisely on the counter, and spared a single moment of memory for the last time she’d seen Dar. The awkward, stumbling speech she’d cut short, divining Dar’s intent to go with her and fulfill what she mistakenly thought was her father’s responsibilities.

Just go. She’d said it simply. I don’t want you around me.

And Dar had went, after a single, timeless moment of silent regard, in which she’d seen a glimpse of a hurt almost as profound as her own had been.

Academically, that surprised her, but they hadn’t spoken since, so she hadn’t had a chance to examine what she’d caused, though in later years, she’d started to wonder just a little, what kind of person this spawn of hers had turned into.

Time to find out.

Cecilia brushed her hands off and walked into the hall, striding forward to time her hand hitting the knob of the door as the first chime dis-turbed the silence of the house.

“YOU ALL RIGHT?” Kerry asked softly, as they came up the driveway.

“Yeah,” Dar replied, desperately glad her lover was there with her.

She owed Kerry big on this one. “Shouldn’t take long.” Her eyes went to the white, neatly painted townhouse with black and gold trim. “She Eye of the Storm 87

might ask you to leave.”

Kerry’s eyebrows lifted. “Is it okay for me to tell her to kiss my ass?”

she inquired mildly.

Dar couldn’t help smiling. “It’s all right. She doesn’t know you, and God knows, she might have something she wants to say in private.” She paused. “Then again, probably not.” They got to the door and Kerry exhaled, then rang the bell.

The door opened as it sounded, and Dar’s mother stood there, dressed in a pair of soft, white cotton drawstring pants, and a silk shirt, with a delicate rose embroidery on one shoulder. She was barefoot, and even Kerry felt large next to her.

“Mother.” Dar’s voice was cool and even, with its best boardroom cordiality.

“Come in.” Cecilia pulled the door open and stepped back. “Ms. Stuart.” She inclined her head towards Kerry, who decided to kick her friendliness gene in its recalcitrant butt.

“Hello.” She let the door close behind her and looked around. “Wow.

What a nice apartment.”

“Thank you,” Dar’s mother responded politely. “Please. Sit down.”

She led them into the living room and indicated the couch.

Kerry circled the room instead, gazing at the walls. The precisely placed art hanging there had a certain geometric appeal and she decided she liked the colors. “That’s your work, isn’t it?” she asked Cecilia, not missing her lover’s slightly raised eyebrow.

Ceci had stopped on her way towards the other couch and regarded Kerry with a mildly surprised expression. “Yes, it is,” she murmured.

“Are you in the art trade, Ms. Stuart?” Her voice held a note of bemusement.

“No.” Kerry returned to Dar’s side and seated herself on the couch.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in Washington. The Museum of Art is a favorite spot of mine.” Dar’s eyebrow lifted a notch further. “You had a mini exhibit there last year.”

Cecilia felt very unsettled. “Yes, I did.” She decided to move the scene along. “Well, I would love to discuss art with you, Ms. Stuart, but there’s something I need to discuss with Paladar, so if you’d excuse us for a moment? There’s some ice tea on the porch if you’d like.” She watched the exchanged looks between the two of them, then Kerry rose.

“Not a problem,” she replied. “Dar, I’m going to go check my mail.”

“Check mine,” Dar responded, folding her arms over her chest.

Kerry walked out and the door closed behind her, leaving them looking at each other in silence.

Dar waited, having learned patience over the years and the value in letting others speak first. She studied her mother’s face, noting the new lines and the added silver in her hair, and withstood the same searching look in return.

“There’s no point in my going into long preambles, Paladar.” Ceci chose her words precisely. “I was asked by the family to speak with you 88 Melissa Good and, for reasons I can’t begin to understand, I agreed, though I certainly have no idea what good they thought it might do.”

Dar chose not to answer. She merely tilted her head to one side.

“Aunt May’s estate.” Ceci paused. “It gets signed over to you in total today.”

It was the last thing Dar expected to hear from her mother. “And?”

She injected a bit of puzzlement into her voice.

“There’s a concern. The estate might pass out of the family.” Her mother bit the words off. “To someone who is, perhaps, taking advantage of you.”

Dar blinked, going over the words two or three times. “Is that a reference to Kerry?”

“I would suppose.”

Dar felt anger easing the nervous dread out of her gut. She stood and walked to the fireplace, turned and leaned back against it. “In the first place, you can tell them from me, that I can leave my net worth to a tap dancing muskrat and they’ve got nothing to say about it.”

“Mmm.”

“In the second place, unlike Uncle Mike’s six bimbos, Kerry’s not a passing fancy.”

Dar’s mother glanced at her hands and pursed her lips.

“In the third place, her damn trust fund is four million dollars.”

Cecilia stood up, regretting getting involved to an enormous degree.

“Well, that’s the point, Paladar. It’s a large amount of money, and frankly, I would have a concern regarding your involvement with that myself.” She took a breath to continue when Dar did something very surprising.

She laughed.

Ceci gazed at her in surprise. “What exactly are you finding funny?”

“The idiocy of people who are too stupid to do some basic research.”

Dar’s amusement disappeared and she let her anger steady into a dull burn. “The incredible arrogance of you to ask me here, after not bothering to talk to me for how many years? And worry about what I’ll do with a lousy inheritance, or who I share my life with.”

“Paladar.”

“You can kiss my ass, Mother, and tell the rest of the family they can do the same.”

“It was a justifiable concern.” Her mother’s voice rose.

Dar flipped a card through the air, watching it hit her mother in the chest. “Not if you’d bothered to find out who I am now.”

Cecilia glanced impatiently at the piece of white cardboard, then stopped and read it more carefully.

Chief Information Officer? Paladar. No. She exhaled softly. Dar Roberts. Goddess. Richard must have known. I’ll have his head for not telling me.

She tasted the knowledge that she’d made a fairly huge mistake.