Heartwishes (7 page)

“That they did.”

As they pulled into the driveway, he told her that Lanny had already carried her suitcase up and she could rest for a while. “Jean is cooking dinner tonight.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

“Of our whole family. She’s a lawyer who works in Richmond and she likes to cook special meals.”

“I look forward to meeting her.”

Minutes later, he stopped at the bottom of a tall staircase that
went up the entire side of the house. She could tell that he meant to escort her up, but she didn’t want him to. She liked him so much, was so very attracted to him, and she didn’t want to do anything embarrassing. Besides, it was better to keep a distance from the son of someone she hoped would employ her. “I can find my own way around,” she said.

“I’ll just show you—”

“No, really. I’d like some time to go over my notes.”

“All right,” he said, but he sounded disappointed. “Come down about six. We’ll have drinks, then dinner.”

“Sure,” she said as she started up the stairs, but he kept standing there. She realized he was waiting to see her safely up the stairs. Only when she got to the door did he turn and walk away.

Now, as Gemma lay on the bed and looked about the room, she thought about what she’d seen and heard that day. It had been a lot. First there were the untouched documents that had made her want to murder someone just to ensure that she got the job. Then Colin had come to the guesthouse and she’d been with him ever since.

How different his life had been from hers, she thought. He’d always lived in one place. He’d probably gone to elementary school with people who were his friends now. And then there were his many relatives.

As for Gemma, since she’d entered the university seven years before, her life had been transient. It wasn’t so because she moved, but at the school everyone around her had come and gone. Over the years, she’d had four close women friends. Each one had declared she was going for her Ph.D., but one by one, her friends had found men, married, then dropped out. Now all four of the women had children—and their correspondence had dwindled to an e-mail every three or four months.

As for the few men in Gemma’s life, they too had moved away.
One of them had begged her to go with him. But she’d told him she was determined to stay where she was, that she had a plan for her life and wasn’t going to deviate from it. The truth was, she hadn’t been in love with him and didn’t want to go.

From the beginning, her goals had never changed. After she was awarded her doctorate, and after she had a job at a good school, she planned to start looking about for a permanent life, which meant a husband, a home, and a family of her own.

Married to a man like Colin, she thought. Her first impression of him was that he was a cross between the Incredible Hulk and one of those cowboys from a black-and-white TV show from the 1960s. Women were dumping babies on him one moment and asking for his protection in the next. If the women hadn’t been talking to him about serious matters, she would have thought he was the town babysitter—and ancient.

But he was far from old. He was young and good-looking and . . . her potential employer’s son, Gemma reminded herself.

She got off the bed and wandered about the room, looking at Colin’s possessions. There was a large trophy on the floor in the corner. O
FFENSIVE
L
INEBACKER
, C
ENTER
it read. On the closet door were stapled some ribbons for other sports: swimming, hockey, even one for show jumping a horse.

Must have been a Frisian, she thought as she envisioned the medieval knights riding into battle on their huge, heavy horses. The historian in her knew that Colin would look good in armor.

On top of his chest of drawers was an open box, the kind that expensive jewelry came in. Inside, instead of something intrinsically valuable, was a cheap little metal star with the word
SHERIFF
across it. From the look of it, it had been played with and carried about for years. The edges were worn down to a smooth dullness.

The toy badge conjured images of a young Colin, probably big
even as a toddler, as he proudly wore a sheriff’s badge. Smiling, Gemma ran her hand around the star, then glanced at the clock. If she didn’t want to be late, she’d better get showered and dressed for dinner.

Thirty minutes later, Gemma looked in the mirror and knew she’d done the best she could. She’d put on light makeup and dark trousers with a teal blue silk shirt. Her shoes were sensible heels and well worn, but polished. She reminded herself that she was trying for a job, not to become a member of the family.

She had her hand on the doorknob, ready to go into the inside of a house that she’d not seen, but she chickened out. Instead, she ran to the side door, stepped onto the little porch, and ran down the stairs to the ground. Now what? she wondered. Should she go to the front door and ring the bell?

“Oh, crap!” she heard a woman say. A few feet away was a screen door, and when Gemma looked inside she saw a large, modern kitchen. Standing in the center of it was a tall, beautiful woman, her lustrous dark hair pulled back into a soft chignon. She had on black silk trousers and an emerald green top that clung to her rather remarkable bosom. This wasn’t what Gemma had imagined when Colin had said the woman coming to cook was a friend of “the whole family.” If she was someone’s girlfriend, Gemma certainly hoped she wasn’t Colin’s.

With a jolt, Gemma realized that for all of the woman’s elegance and beauty, she was leaning over the island, holding her left hand up, and blood was trickling down her arm. She wasn’t moving, just staring at the blood with glassy eyes.

Gemma threw back the door, ran inside, grabbed the woman’s wrist, and pulled her to the sink. She turned on the cold water and pushed the woman’s hand under it.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” Gemma asked, but the woman didn’t say anything. Gemma grabbed a dishtowel on the countertop and
wrapped it around the cut finger. She turned off the water, then led the woman to sit down on a tall wooden stool, and went in search of bandages. She found a big box of first aid supplies in a white metal box hanging on the wall in the walk-in pantry.

With the box in hand, Gemma hurried back to the woman, who hadn’t moved so much as an eyelid since she’d left her. Gemma was regretting having left her cell phone upstairs. If she had to call an ambulance, she’d need it. But then, she reminded herself that Colin was probably nearby, and he’d know what to do.

Gently, Gemma removed the cloth from the woman’s hand. She needed to see how bad the injury was before she called for help. When she saw that the cut was shallow and not very big at all, she looked at the woman in disbelief, but she was still sitting in stony silence, her beautiful face drained of color.

Carefully, Gemma bandaged her finger. “I think you’ll be okay now.”

The woman said nothing.

“I’m Gemma. I’m one of the applicants for the job and—”

“The rolls!” the woman said as she jumped up, ran to the big stove, and threw open the oven door. She started to reach for the hot metal sheet, but since she was keeping her injured hand elevated and the other one was bare, she couldn’t get them out.

“I’ll do it,” Gemma said as she picked up pot holders and removed the tray of bread.

“I’m a real wimp,” the woman said as she sat back down on the stool. “When it comes to blood, especially my own, I’m a coward. I’m Jean Caldwell, and thanks a lot for this. If you hadn’t come by I probably would have fainted, then dinner would have been ruined. That would have meant the Fraziers would have to order in pizza—which the men would have loved.” Jean sighed. “Maybe you shouldn’t have saved me.”

Gemma smiled, but Jean’s face was still too white. “Why don’t you stay seated and let me help with this?” The top of the stove had a bubbling pot on each of the six burners.

“You can cook?”

“Not at all, but I’m excellent at following directions. It’s what I’ve been doing since I was five.”

“Oh, right, school. I remember thinking that I couldn’t wait to get away from the professors and be free. Little did I know that bosses make teachers look like angels.”

“I take it you’ve never had Dr. Fredrickson.”

Jean smiled. “Colin said you were funny.”

“Did he?” Gemma said and couldn’t help feeling good at the compliment. His girlfriend wouldn’t make such a remark, would she? “Do I need to do anything to any of this?”

“Turn off that left back burner, and stir that orange pot. Good. I hear Colin took you with him when he played hooky this afternoon.”

Gemma didn’t turn around. There was something so possessive in the way Jean said his name that Gemma’s heart began to sink. “He . . .” she said tentatively.

“I don’t blame either of you,” Jean said. “I’ve met Isla and Kirk. She came in here and started giving me cooking instructions. I got rid of her by asking her to chop onions. Then that prissy little Kirk came in and stuck a spoon in my osso bucco. He said it needed more salt. Colin took him away before I slammed his face in the pot. Would you like some wine?”

Gemma worked to keep any expression off her face, but the euphoria she’d felt all day was leaving her.

Jean refilled her own glass from a bottle of red wine that was sitting open on the stone countertop. “I need this if I’m going to face those two at dinner.” She pointed to a cabinet and Gemma opened it to see wineglasses. “Sorry to be such an invalid, but I’ve
been in court all day. My feet are killing me. Then I had to drive the nearly seventy miles from Richmond, and when I got here I was introduced to that Isla. She seemed to think she and I were destined to be best friends.”

Gemma nodded, glad Jean was speaking of something besides Colin. “I’m sure Isla believes she’s won. She doesn’t consider me a worthy opponent, so she doesn’t bother with me, either here or at school.”

“I can’t see her in that mess Alea bought, so what is she really after?”

“I think she wants Lanny, but Colin says she’s after Shamus.” Gemma watched to see if Jean would show any emotion at Gemma’s mention of Colin’s name, but she didn’t. Either they weren’t a couple or Jean was
very
secure.

Jean laughed. “That sounds like something Colin would say. The other brother, Pere, isn’t here. He’s the pretty one. Isla would probably do a lap dance for him. Would you turn down the heat under that big skillet? Colin doesn’t like his beef overcooked. Thanks.”

“The problem . . .” Gemma said as she slowly sipped her wine. She was trying to adjust to what she was beginning to see as a fact: Colin and Jean were a couple. “Is that Mrs. Frazier likes Isla.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Jean lowered her voice. “You can never guess what the Fraziers are thinking.”

“Even Colin?”

“He’s the worst! The stories I could tell you!” Jean said. “He knows a lot of people, and he listens to them, takes care of them. But even people who consider Colin their best friend don’t know what
his
problems are. He keeps them to himself.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Gemma said and thought how he’d evaded her more personal questions. She was trying to recover from finding out that Colin was taken.

“Don’t worry about it. All the Fraziers keep their secrets. Would you put those rolls in that basket and cover them? Thanks. You’re a good sous chef. So where was I?”

“The clandestine nature of the Fraziers.”

“Clandestine. What a perfect word to describe them. Anyway, the point is that just because Alea puts up with Isla’s and Kirk’s endless gushing doesn’t mean she’s going to give the job to one of them. I know Colin’s already told her he thinks she should hire you, and I’m certainly going to vote for you.”

It looked like Jean was considered a member of the family. “Shouldn’t you get to know me a little first?”

Jean held up her hand with the bandaged finger. “I always vote for people who save my life.”

“It was hardly that. Although there was a lot of blood and the body doesn’t hold all that much. Who knows what could have happened?”

“I agree,” Jean said as she raised her glass in a toast. “I think you and I are going to get along quite well. Although I wish you weren’t quite so pretty.”

“No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Honey, with some highlights, a good cut and some decent eye makeup—” She broke off, looking at Gemma in speculation.

“What?”

“I was just thinking of someone in town who’d be perfect for you, that’s all.” She got off the stool and went to the stove. She was half a foot taller than Gemma, and with her high heels she looked like she’d just stepped off a Paris runway. “You wouldn’t mind grating some cheese for me, would you? I figure I have about ten minutes before a Frazier starts demanding food. They eat enormous quantities of it, preferably all beef. I told Colin—”

“What did you tell me?”

The two women turned to look at him. He’d showered and changed into black slacks and a white shirt that wasn’t as snug as his other one had been. He looked very good, and Gemma couldn’t suppress the flutter that came to her heart and body. She had a vision of standing on tiptoe and slipping her arms around his neck. She could imagine how good his body would feel against hers.

“I can’t persuade you into a tie?” Jean said, going to him and putting her arms around his neck. She aimed to kiss his lips, but he turned his head away so her kiss fell onto his cheek.

Gemma turned away. Damn, damn, double damn! she thought. She was as bad as Isla in looking at a Frazier with wedding bells in her eyes.

“Is Gemma helping you cook or are you two hiding out in here?” Colin asked.

“Hiding,” Gemma and Jean said in unison.

“Your mother couldn’t possibly be thinking of hiring one of those two,” Jean said as Colin moved away from her and went to the stove.

“I hope not. What is all this?” he asked when he was standing beside Gemma.

“I have no idea, but it smells divine,” she said and took a step away from him. He smelled too good for her to be close to him.

“It does.” He picked up a lid. “Got a spoon?”

“Here,” Jean said from his other side as she handed him one.