Courting Catherine

Chapter Eight

C.C. fired up her torch, flipped down her faceplate and prepared to cut off the tail pipe on the rusted exhaust of a '62 Plymouth.

The day was not going well.

She wasn't able to get the scheduled family meeting off her mind. No other paperwork on the necklace had shown up, though they had gone through reams and reams of receipts and old ledgers. She knew, because of Amanda's refusal to talk, that the news wasn’t good.

Added to that had been another restless night. She heard Fred's whimpering and had gone to check on him only to hear Trent's low murmuring soothing the puppy behind his bedroom door.

She'd stood there for a long time, listening.

The fact that he'd taken the stray into his room, cared enough to comfort and nurture only made C.C. love him more. And the more she loved, the more she hurt.

She knew she was hollow eyed this morning, because she'd made the mistake of looking at a mirror. That she could handle. Her looks had never been a major concern. The bills she had found in the morning mail were.

She'd been telling the truth when she'd told Su-zanna the business was doing well. But there were still rough spots. Not all of her customers paid promptly, and her cash flow was too often merely a trickle. Six months, she thought as she cut through the old metal. She only needed six months. But that was too long, much too long to help keep The Towers.

Her life was changing, changing fast, and none of it seemed to be for the better.

Trent stood watching her. She had some battered hulk of a car up on the lift and stood under it, wielding a torch. While he watched, she shifted aside as a pipe clattered to the floor. She was wearing coveralls again, thick safety gloves and a helmet. The music she never seemed to be without jingled from the radio on the workbench.

Surely a man was over the edge when he thought how delightful it would be to make love on a concrete floor with a woman who was dressed like a welder.

C.C. changed positions, then saw him. Very carefully she shut off the torch before she lifted the shield of her helmet.

“I couldn't find anything wrong with your car. Keys are in the office. No charge.” She flipped down the shield again.

“C.C.” “What?”

“How about dinner?”

She pushed back the shield and eyed him warily. “How about it?”

“I mean...” With a leery glance overhead, he stepped under the car with her. “I'd like you to have dinner with me tonight.”

She shifted her weight. “I've had dinner with you every night for several nights.” She flipped the shield down. Trent flipped it up again.

“No, I mean I want to take you out to dinner.” “Why?”

“Why not?”

She lifted a brow. “Well, that's very nice, but I'm a little pressed tonight We're having a family meeting.” She pulled down the shield again and prepared to relight the torch.

“Tomorrow then.” Annoyed, Trent pushed the shield back up. “Do you mind? I like to see you when I talk to you.”

“Yes, I mind because I've got work. And no, I won't have dinner with you tomorrow.”

“Why?”

She blew out a long breath that ruffled her bangs. “Because I don't want to.”

“You're still angry with me.”

Her eyes, which had begun to heat, went flat. “We settled all that, so there's no reason to go out on a date.”

“Just dinner,” he said, finding he couldn't let go. “No one's calling it a date. One simple meal, as friends, before I go back to Boston.”

“You're going back?” She felt her heart drop to her knees and turned away to rattle through some tools.

“Yes, I have meetings scheduled for the middle of the week. I'm expected in the office Wednesday afternoon.”

Just like that, she thought as she picked up a pipe wrench and set it down again. I've got meetings scheduled, see you later. Sorry I broke your heart. “Well, then, have a nice trip.”

“C.C.” He laid a hand on her arm before she could hide behind the shield again. “I'd like to spend a little time with you. I'd feel a lot better about everything if I was sure we parted on good terms.”

“You want to feel better about things,” she muttered, then made herself relax her jaw. “Sure, why not? Dinner tomorrow night is fine. You deserve a send-off.”

“I appreciate it. Really.” He touched her cheek, started to lean toward her. C.C. pulled the shield down with a snap.

“Better stand back from the torch, Trent,” she said sweetly. “You might get burned.”

Family meetings with the Calhouns were traditionally noisy, argumentative and drenched with tears and laughter. This one was abnormally subdued. Amanda, in her capacity as adviser on finances, sat at the head of the table.

The room was silent.

Suzanna had already put the children to bed. It had been a little easier than usual as both of them had exhausted themselves with Fred—and vice versa.

Trent had excused himself discreetly, directly after dinner. It hardly mattered, C.C. thought. He would know the outcome soon enough.

She was afraid everyone knew it already.

“I guess we all know why we're here,” Amanda began. “Trent's going back to Boston on Wednesday, and it would be best all around it we gave him our decision about the house before he left.”

“It would be better if we concentrated on finding the necklace.” Lilah's stubborn look was offset by the nervous way she twisted the obsidian crystals around her neck.

“We're all still looking for the papers.” Suzanna laid a hand on Lilah's arm. “But I think we have to face the reality that finding the necklace could take a long time. Longer than we have.”

“Thirty days is longer than we have.” All eyes turned to Amanda. “I got a notice from the lawyer last week.”

“Last week!” Coco put in. “Stridley contacted you and you didn't mention it?”

“I was hoping I could get an extension without worrying everyone.” Amanda laid her hand on the file she set on the table. “No deal. We've been chipping away at the back taxes, but the hard fact is that we haven't been making enough headway. The insurance premiums are due. We can make them all right, and the mortgage—for the time being. The utility bills over

the winter were higher than usual, and the new furnace and repairs to the roof ate up a lot of our principal.”

C.C. held up a hand. “How bad is it?”

“As bad as it gets.” Amanda rubbed at an ache in her temple. “We could sell off a few more pieces, and keep our head above water. Just. But taxes are due again in a couple months, and we'll be back where we started.”

“I can sell my pearls,” Coco began, and Lilah cut her off.

“No. Absolutely not. We agreed a long time ago that there were some things that couldn't be sold. If we're going to face facts,” she said grimly, “then let's face them.”

“The plumbing's shot,” Amanda continued, and had to clear her tightening throat. “If we don't get the rewiring done, we could end up burning the place down around our ears. Suzanna's lawyer's fees—”

“That's my problem,” Suzanna interrupted.

“That's our problem,” Amanda corrected, and got a unanimous note of assent. “We're a family,” she continued. “We've been through the very worst together, and we handled it. Six or seven years ago, it looked as if everything was going to be fine. But... taxes have gone up, along with the insurance, the repairs, everything. It's not as though we're paupers, but the house eats up every cent of spare cash, and then some. If I thought we could weather this, hang in for another year or two, I'd say sell the Limoges, or a few antiques. But it's like trying to plug a hole in a dam and watching others spring out while your fingers are slipping.”

“What are you saying, Mandy?” C.C. asked her.

“I'm saying.” Amanda pressed her lips together. “I'm saying the only realistic choice I see is for us to sell the house. With the offer from St. James, we can pay off the debts, keep most of what's important to all of us and buy another. If we don't sell, it's going to be taken away from us in any case within a few months.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I'm sorry. I just can't find a way out.”

“It's not your fault.” Suzanna reached out for her hand. “We all knew it was coming.”

Amanda sniffled and shook her head. “What buffer we had, we lost in the stock market crash. We just haven't been able to recover. I know I made the in-vestments—”

“We made the investments.” Lilah leaned over to join hands, as well. “On the recommendation of a very reputable broker. If the bottom hadn't fallen through, if I'd won the lottery, if Bax hadn't been such a greedy bastard, maybe things would be different now. But they're not”

“We'll still be together.” Coco added her hand. “That's what matters.”

“That's what matters,” C-C. agreed, and laid her hand on top. And that, if nothing else, felt right. “What do we do now?”

Struggling for composure, Amanda sat back. “I guess we ask Trent to come down and make sure the offer still stands.”

“I'll get him.” C.C. pushed away from the table to walk blindly from the room.

She couldn't believe it. Even as she walked through (the huddle of rooms, into the hallway, up the steps with her hand trailing along the banister, she couldn't believe it. None of it would be hers much longer.

There would come a time very soon when she wouldn't be able to step from her room onto the high stone terrace and look out at the sea. She wouldn't be able to climb the steps to Bianca's tower and find Lilah curled on the window seat, dreaming out through the dusty glass. Or Suzanna working in the garden with the children racing on the lawn nearby. Amanda wouldn't come bolting down the stairs in a hurry to get somewhere, do something. Aunt Coco would no longer fuss over the stove in the kitchen.

In a matter of moments, the life she'd known was over. The one to come had yet to begin. She was somewhere in a kind of limbo, too stunned from the loss to ache.

Trent crouched beside the fire where Fred snored on the bright red cushion in his new wicker dog bed. He was going to miss the little devil, Trent realized. Even if he had the time or inclination for a pet back in Boston, he didn't have the heart to take Fred away from the children, or from the women, if it came to that.

He'd seen C.C. tossing the ball for the pup in the side yard that afternoon when she'd come home from work. It had been so good to hear her laugh, to see her wrestle with the dog and Suzanna's children.

Oddly it reminded him of the image he'd had— daydream, he corrected. The daydream he'd had when his mind had wandered the night of the séance. Of him and C.C. sitting on a sunny porch, watching children play in the yard.

It was foolishness, of course, but something had tugged at him that afternoon when he'd stood at the door and looked at her tossing a ball to Fred. A good something, he remembered, until she'd turned and had seen him. Her laughter had died, and her eyes had gone cool.

He straightened, studying the flames in the fire. It was crazy, but he wished with his whole heart that she would flare up, just once more. Throw another punch at him. Call him names. The worst kind of punishment was her

steady, passionless politeness.

The sound of the knock on the door had Fred yip-ping quietly in his sleep. When Trent answered, finding C.C. on the other side of the threshold, twin twinges of delight and distress danced through his system. He wouldn't be able to turn her away this time. It wouldn't be possible to tell her, or himself, that it couldn't be. He had to... Then he looked into her eyes.

“What's wrong? What's happened?” He reached out to comfort, but she stepped stiffly away.

“We'd like you to come downstairs, if you don't mind.”

“Catherine—” But she was already walking away, her stride lengthening in her hurry for distance.

He found them all gathered around the dining room table, their faces composed. He was astute enough to understand that he was facing one combined will.

The Calhouns had closed ranks. “Ladies?”

“Trent, sit down, please.” Coco gestured to the chair beside her. “I hope we didn't disturb you?”

“Not at all.” He looked at C.C., but she was staring fixedly at the wall above his head. “Are we having another séance?”

“Not this time.” Lilah nodded toward Amanda. “Mandy?”

“All right.” She took a deep breath and was relieved when Suzanna's hand gripped hers under the table. “Trent, we've discussed your offer for The Towers, and have decided to accept it.”

He gave her a blank look. “Accept it?”

“Yes.” Amanda pressed her free hand to her quivering stomach. “That is, if your offer still stands.”

“Yes, of course it does.” He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on C.C. “You're certain you want to sell?”

“Isn't that what you wanted?” C.C.'s voice was clipped. “Isn't that what you came for?”

“Yes.” But he'd gotten a great deal more than he'd bargained for. “My firm will be delighted to purchase the property. But...I want to be certain that you're all agreed. That this is what you want. All of you.”

“We're all agreed.” C.C. went back to staring at the wall.

“The lawyers will handle the details,” Amanda began again. “But before

we hand things over them, I'd like to review the terms.”

“Of course.” He named the purchase price again. Hearing it had tears burning in C.C.'s eyes. “There's no reason why we can't be flexible on the timing,” he went on. “I realize you'll want to do some kind of inventory before you—relocate.”

It was what they wanted, he reminded himself. It was business. It shouldn't make him feel as if he'd just crawled out from under a rock.

“I think we'd like to make the move quickly.” Suzanna glanced around the table for confirmation. “As soon as we can find another house.”

“If there's anything I can do to help you—”

“You've done enough,” C.C. interrupted coolly. “We can take care of ourselves.”

“I'd like to add a condition.” Lilah leaned forward. “You're purchasing the house, and the land. Not the contents.”

“No. Naturally the furniture, heirlooms, personal possessions remain yours.”

“Including the necklace.” She inclined her head. “Whether it's found before we leave, or after, the Calhoun necklace belongs to the Calhouns. I want that in writing, Trent. If anytime during your renovations, the necklace is recovered, it belongs to us.”

“All right.” The little clause would drive the lawyers crazy, he thought. But that was their problem. “I'll see that it's put in the contract.”

“Bianca's tower.” She spoke slowly, afraid her voice would break. “Be careful what you do with it.”

“How about some wine?” Coco rose, hands fluttering. “We should have some wine.”

“Excuse me.” C.C. made herself stand slowly, fighting the impulse to race from the room. “If we're all through, I think I'll go up. I'm tired.”

Trent stared after her, but Suzanna stopped him. “I don't think she'd be receptive right now. I'll go.”

C.C. went to the terrace to lean out over the wall and let the cold wind dry the tears. There should be a storm, she thought. She wished there was a storm, something as angry and as passionate as her own heart.

Pounding a fist on the wall, she cursed the day she'd ever met Trent. He wouldn't take her love, but he would take her home. Of course, if he had accepted the first and returned it, he could never have taken the house.

“C.C.” Suzanna stepped out to slip an arm around her shoulders. “It's cold.

Why don't we go inside?” “It's not right.”

“No.” She gathered her sister closer. “It's not.”

“He doesn't even know what it means.” She dashed the angry tears away. “He can't understand. He wouldn't want to.”

“Maybe he doesn't. Maybe no one can but us. But it's not his fault, C.C. We can't blame him because we couldn't hang on.” She looked away from the gardens she loved, toward the cliffs that always drew her. “I left here once before—it seems like a lifetime ago, but it was only seven years. Nearly eight now.”

She sighed. “I thought it was the happiest day of my life, leaving the island for my new home in Boston.”

“You don't have to talk about that. I know it hurts you.”

“Not as much as it once did. I was in love, C.C., a new bride with the future in the palm of my hand. And when I turned around and saw The Towers disappearing behind me, I cried like a baby. I thought it would be easier this time.” As tears threatened, she closed her eyes. “I wish it were. What is it about this place that pulls us so?” she wondered.

“I know we can find another house.” C.C. linked fingers with her sister. “I know we'll be all right, even happy. But it hurts. And you're right, it's not Trent's fault But...”

“You have to blame someone.” Suzanna smiled.

“He hurt me. I really hate to admit that, but he hurt me. I want to be able to say that he made me fall in love with him. Even that he let me fall in love with him. But I did it all by myself.”

“And Trent?”

“He isn't interested.”

“From the way he looks at you, I'd say you're wrong.”

“Oh, he's interested,” C.C. said grimly. “But love has nothing to do with it. He very politely refused to take advantage of my—my lack of experience, as he called it.”

“Oh.” Suzanna looked out toward the cliffs again. Rejection, she knew, was the sharpest blade of all. “It doesn't help much, but it might have been more difficult for you if he hadn't been—sensible.”

“He's sensible, all right,” C.C. said through her teeth. “And being a sensible and a civilized man, he'd like us to be friends. He's even taking me to dinner tomorrow so he can be certain I'm not pining away for him, and he

can go back to Boston guilt free.” “What are you going to do?”

“Oh, I'll go to dinner with him. I can be just as damned civilized as he can.” She set her chin. “And when I'm finished, he's going to be sorry he ever set eyes on Catherine Calhoun.” She whirled toward her sister. “Do you still have that red dress? The beaded one that's cut down to sin?”

Suzanna's grin spread. “You bet I do.” “Let's go take a look at it.”

Well, well, well, C.C. thought. What a difference a day and a tight silk dress could make. Lips pursed, she turned in front of the cracked cheval glass in the corner of her room. The dress was just a smidgen too small for her—even with the frantic alterations Su-zanna had made. It only made more of a statement.

Don't you wish you had me, it said quite clearly. C.C. ran her hands over her hips. And he could wish until his head exploded.

The dress was a form-fitting glitter of flame that licked down from its plunging neckline to the abbreviated hem. Suzanna had ruthlessly slashed it off so that it hit C.C. midthigh. The long sleeves ended in points over her wrists. And she'd added Coco's rhine-stone ear clips, with their wicked sparkle.

The thirty minutes she'd spent on makeup seemed to have paid off. Her lips were as red as the dress, thanks to Amanda's contribution. Her eyes were shadowed with copper and emerald, thanks to Lilah. Her hair was as glossy as a raven's wing and slicked back a bit at the temples.

All in all, C.C. thought as she turned, Trenton St. James III was in for a surprise.

“Suzanna said you needed some shoes.” Lilah walked in and stopped in midyawn. The shoes dangled from her fingertips as she stared. “I must have passed through a parallel universe.”

C.C. grinned and spun a circle. “What do you think?”

“I think Trent's going to need oxygen.” Approving, she passed C.C. a pair of spiked snakeskin heels. “Kiddo, you look dangerous.”

“Good.” She pulled on the shoes. “Now if I can just walk in these without falling on my face.”

“Practice. I've got to get Mandy.”

A few moments later, all three sisters supervised C.C's walk. “You'llbe having dinner,” Amanda put in, wincing at each wobble. “So you'll be sitting down most of the time.”

“I'm getting it,” C.C. muttered. “I'm just not used to heels. How do you work in these things all day?”

“Talent.”

“Walk slower,” Lilah suggested. “More deliberately. As if you have all the time in the world.”

“Take if from her,” Amanda agreed. “She's an expert at slow.”

“In this case—” Lilah gave Amanda an arched look “—slow is sexy. See?”

Taking her sister's advice, C.C. walked with a cautious deliberation that came off as slinky. Amanda held out her hands. “I stand corrected. What coat are you wearing?”

“I haven't thought of it.”

“You can wear my black silk cape,” Amanda decided. “You'll freeze but you'll look great doing it. Perfume. Aunt Coco's got some of that smoldering French stuff left from Christmas.”

“No.” Suzanna shook her head. “She should stick with her usual scent.” Tilting her head, she studied her sister and smiled. “The contrast will drive him crazy.”

Unaware of what was in store for him, Trent sat in the parlor with Coco. His bags were packed. His calls were made. He wished he could come up with a reasonable excuse to stay another few days.

“We've enjoyed having you,” Coco told him when he'd expressed his appreciation for her hospitality. “I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon.”

Her crystal ball didn't lie, she reminded herself. It still linked Trent up with one of her nieces, and she wasn't ready to wave surrender.

“I certainly hope so. I have to say, Coco, how much I admire you for raising four such lovely women.”

“Sometimes I think we raised each other.” She smiled mistily around the room. “I'm going to miss this place. To be honest I didn't think it mattered to me until...well, until now. I didn't grow up here as the girls did. We traveled quite a bit, you see, and my father only came back sporadically. I always thought it was the fact that his mother had died here that put him off. Then, of course, I spent my married life and the first few years of my widowhood in Philadelphia. Then when Judson and Deliah were killed, I came here for the girls.” She sent him a sad, apologetic smile. “I'm sorry to get sentimental on you, Trenton.”

“Don't apologize.” He sipped thoughtfully at his aperitif. “My family has never been close, and as a result, there was never a home like this in my life. I think that's why I've begun to understand what it could mean.”

“You should settle down,” she said, cagily, she thought. “Find a nice girl, make a home and family of your own. Why, I can't think of anything lonelier than not having anyone to go home to.”

Wanting to avoid that line of thought, he reached down to throw the ball for Fred. They both watched as the dog bounded after it, tripped himself up and went sprawling.

“Not particularly graceful,” Trent mused. He rose and went over to retrieve the ball himself. Scratching the dog's belly, he glanced over. The first thing he saw was a pair of very slim black heels. Slowly his gaze traveled up a long, shapely pair of legs. With the breath backing up in his lungs, he sat back on his heels.

There was a sparkle of scarlet, snug and sleek over a curvy feminine form. “Lose something?” C.C. asked as his eyes fixed on her face.

Her lips were curved and red and slick. Trent ran his tongue over his teeth to be certain he hadn't swallowed it. On unsteady legs, he rose.

“We were having dinner tonight, weren't we?” “We...yes. You look wonderful.”

“Do you like it?” She turned a circle so that he could see the back of the dress dipped even lower than the front. “I think red's a cheerful color.” And powerful, she thought, still smiling.

“It suits you. I've never seen you in a dress before.”

“Impractical when it comes to changing fuel pumps. Are you ready to go?'' “Go where?”

Oh, she was going to enjoy this. “To dinner.” “Right. Yes.”

She inclined her head the way Suzanna had showed her and handed him her cape. It was a service he'd performed hundreds of times for dozens of women. But his hands fumbled.

“Don't wait up, Aunt Coco.”

“No, dear.” Behind their retreating backs, she grinned and raised her fists in the air. The moment the front door shut, the three remaining Calhouns exchanged high fives.