Bougainvillea (9 page)

Kit was, whether she knew it or not herself, definitely one of the family.

“We'll plan a wonderful party for them,” he said.

“How did Seamus like the news?” Shelley asked.

“I don't think he knows yet,” Michael told her, arching a brow to his wife. “I know that Kaitlin or Lenore will be delighted to bring him the news.”

Her lips pursed, Lenore turned toward the west wing
of the main house where Seamus kept his home office. Kaitlin gave him a scathing look and picked up the bottle of Scotch.

“Dad, has anyone seen my keys?” Josh demanded.

On the other end of the line, Shelley was still talking. “I can't wait to tell Eli and my dad. Dad always raved so about Marina—and I'm certain that Eli had a schoolboy crush on her. Wait till I tell them that Kit is coming here now as David's wife!”

Michael was still for a moment, pained as he mused over the past.

“I'm sure they'll both be very excited,” he said dryly. “Nice to talk to you, Shelley. We'll get going on it as soon as we know if and when they're coming home. I know Lenore will be happy for you to help with the arrangements.”

“Thanks, Michael. Bye.”

He hung up and looked across the room at Kaitlin, shrugging at the glare she gave him. “What are you going to do?” he inquired softly. “Kit is coming here. As David's wife. That's all there is to it. Pour me a Scotch, too, please. Make it a double.”

“Ah-ha!” Josh cried out.

“What?” Michael and Kaitlin said in unison, staring at him as if another earth-shattering revelation was forthcoming.

“My keys!” Josh said happily. “There they are, right next to the Scotch.” He scooped up his keys and stared at the other two. “All right, then, pour me one, too. Make it very small though—just a sip. Gotta drive you know. But we should salute the new lovers.”

Kaitlin didn't move fast enough for him. He smiled,
took the bottle from her, and poured out three glasses of fine amber liquor, making his a bare taste. He lifted his own glass, amused. “To the newlyweds!” he cried. The others just stared at him. “What, you're not drinking with me?”

He drained the small amount in his glass, set it down, and grinned. Grabbing his keys, he started for the door. “Sweet dreams, all,” he said cheerfully, and was gone.

Kaitlin made a noise and took her Scotch with her, toward the stairs.

Michael mused over the amber color of his drink for a moment. Then he lifted the glass. “To the newlyweds,” he said softly. “May they live long and prosper. Or…well, may they live.”

* * *

David leaned against the wall of the hotel, staring out at the brilliant lights of Las Vegas.

In comparison, the room was muted in soft blue shadow. Great honeymoon room—only a bit tacky with the heart-shaped whirlpool bath and feathery cover on the bed. He loved the way the lights played into the room, and loved them even more the moment that Kit stepped back out from her shower.

His wife. She had married him.

He felt as if a fist squeezed around his heart.

She smiled, wrapped in a white towel, shaking her hair free and running her fingers through the midnight-black length of it. She was stunning in every way, compact and perfectly formed, her facial structure incredible, beyond even classic beauty. And yet it was the way that she smiled that tore into his heart and soul.

She walked over to him, sliding her arms around his waist. He tugged at the towel, allowing it to drop to the floor. He drew the length of her body, hot and damp from the shower, against his own, and it felt as if every longing within him erupted cleanly to the surface.

And yet…

As the urgency of passion engulfed him, a warning teased at the back of his mind.

Stay away…

Stay here, take her somewhere else, anywhere.

Don't go back to Bougainvillea.

Later, much later, he was puzzled by his strange sense of panic when he had held her, the sense of fierce protection, and of dread.

Bougainvillea.

He had always loved the place. It was home.

And still…

He awoke the following morning with the knowledge that the past had been bitter.

They might be so much better off if she never knew all that had gone on during those long-ago years.

“T
here, the Everglades,” David said, pointing out the window as their plane made its initial descent toward Miami International Airport. “The area is fascinating. I love to go out there. Lots of airboats, alligators, Seminole and Miccosukkee villages, music fests at times—and mosquitos, too. Sawgrass and snakes. But beautiful birds, and incredible photo opportunities.” He shrugged. “Some people hate it.”

“Shark Valley,” Kit said, grinning at him. “I came out on a field trip with my first-grade class!”

“So,” he mused, dark eyes curiously on her. “Memories are coming back.”

“I remembered Shelley so clearly when I talked to her the other night.”

“I imagine more and more will come back to you when you see people—and Bougainvillea itself, of course.”

“I'm sure. It's great, really. I'd like to have more of a memory of my mother.”

He looked out the window again, not replying. Then
he turned to her. “You know, if you find that you're unhappy there—overburdened with family—we can just move.”

“Some of the business offices are on the estate, aren't they?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Convenience can be regained. The main facilities are down closer to the marina in the Grove. Trust me, if you wish, we can move. After all, you've already taken the step from one State to another. I can move into a new house.”

“But you love the estate, don't you?”

He was silent for a minute, watching her. “You'll love it, too, when you see it again. But still…” He gave her something of a strange, awkward grimace. “I love you. And if you're unhappy…sand is sand. And buildings are just concrete, nothing more.”

She smiled, wondering if it would be possible to be this much in love, in euphoria, forever. Surely not, and yet she knew that although excitement might wear away somewhat with time, love could grow into something deeper, and even better. However, as she sat by him then, she wondered if even the excitement would ebb away. David had an appeal that came with the fact he was unaware of the way he did something so casual as walk, smile or speak. His confidence seemed ingrained; he was the type who commanded respect without raising his tone. She was still just as hypnotized by the scent of him, the sound of his voice, his slightest touch.

“We're landing. Look, there's the Biltmore—an historic hotel, really beautifully redone. Downtown Miami is off that way. And…you can't see it, but there, in that direction, toward the water, is Bougainvillea.”

They deplaned and exited the gate area, leaving to the right of the security check where outgoing passengers were setting their luggage down to be scanned. By then, Whitney was meowing constantly from his under-the-seat carrier.

They had barely left the area before Kit heard her name being called excitedly. “Kit! David!”

“It's Shelley,” David said.

Kit barely got a chance to see the pretty woman who came flying across the concourse to throw her arms around her. Shelley. She'd enjoyed her phone conversation with the girl who had apparently been her best friend in first grade, and seeing her was even better. Shelley hugged her tightly, then withdrew to hug David as well. Then she stood arm's distance from Kit, and they stared at one another. They were nearly the same size. Shelley, however, was a flaming redhead. Her eyes were hazel and fiery, and she was deeply tanned. Kit quickly recalled an image of a little girl with carrot-colored pigtails, braces, and a smattering of freckles on her nose.

“A cat, huh?” she said.

“Whitney.”

“You always loved animals! What a fortune you cost your folks on getting strays settled. Hey—we both made five-seven, so it seems. And they claimed that we'd both be tiny little things all our lives!” Shelley said with a laugh. “Look at you, though!” She glanced at David, then back at Kit. “Well, you must know, of course, that you are the spitting image of your mother. Your hair is almost pitch-black—do you dye it? Rude question, sorry. Your eyes are just like hers, too, almost
violet. Contacts? No, your mom's weren't. Wow, I'm horrible, aren't I? Not really, because you know, we did use to talk about everything.”

“Well, I more or less remember,” Kit said with a laugh.

“You don't remember anything. You moved far away and grew up to become rich and famous.”

“Not rich or really famous, I'm afraid. Slightly known,” Kit told her ruefully.

“You'd be surprised,” Shelley told her.

“You know,” David said, “we could continue this outside of the airport.”

“Right, of course, let's go. Luggage is below,” she informed Kit, linking arms with her as she led the way.

Once they were in Shelley's car, she glanced at Kit in the rearview mirror. “I'm afraid you're going home to a zoo,” she said.

“Oh?” David said, somewhat sharply.

Shelley shrugged. “My idea. I thought we should welcome Kit with a party. I think Lenore might have been upset that I had the idea first. I'd wanted to plan something small, and well…” She glanced at Kit in the rearview mirror again. “You're about to meet the mayors of three of the little municipalities, the chairman of a local children's charity, and well, God alone knows who else. They've thrown a major festival.”

“Great,” David muttered.

“It's all right,” Kit said quickly. “Might as well jump right into the fire.”

“Into the fire. Right,” David said. He looked out the window, and didn't seem to pay attention to any of the conversation in the car from that point. It didn't matter;
Shelley was talkative, pointing out streets and landmarks as they went along. Driving down Red Road, she pointed out Coral Gables to the left, West Miami to the right, and then South Miami when they came to a certain point. Coconut Grove wasn't actually its own city, just an area. But they were in it, and the foliage along the road grew thicker and thicker and very beautiful. Finally, they came to gates off the side of the road, where Shelley paused to punch in a code, telling Kit the numbers as she did so. Kit wondered if Shelley was aware that she would never remember them.

A long drive through dense and colorful bushes and trees brought them to the front of the house.

Bougainvillea.

And she remembered it.

The house was a combination of old Southern and medieval Spanish architecture, the huge porch with its thick pillars covered in coral rock. The length and breadth of it was tiled; heavy planters flanked the large doorway and a number of the windows. The second floor, rising above the covered porch, gave way to a number of trellised balconies. The whole of the front of the house gave off an odd sense of perfectly balanced art and architecture, the bottom story being sturdy, the second level far lighter, and together, they appeared postcard perfect.

Cars were parked everywhere on either side of the drive. Faint music could be heard.

“They hired a band?” David said, staring at Shelley.

She shrugged. “There's at least a hundred people here.”

“She couldn't give us a chance to unpack and shower, huh?” David muttered.

“You know Lenore. I guess she decided that she had to look like the grand society dame, welcoming you and your new wife.” Shelley shrugged, looking at Kit. “I'm a schoolteacher and my brother is a cop, but such is this area that we can be neighbors. Actually, I personally like Lenore's forays into keeping up with the Joneses. Best chance I ever get to meet mayors.”

“That's not the point, Shelley,” David said softly.

“Right. I know.”

“See why I mentioned moving?” David said to Kit.

“Don't move…please don't move! You won't be next to me, and we won't be able to run over at any time,” Shelley said.

Kit didn't have to answer. They were getting out of the car. David looked at Kit. “We can grab my car and escape, you know.”

She smiled. “Actually, I've never met a mayor before myself.”

“We can go straight in, then,” David said.

“But the cat!” Kit said.

“I'll leave the door unlocked and send someone to see that he makes it to David's place,” Shelley assured her.

They left the luggage in the car and walked around the porch to the back of the estate. And there was the area Kit really remembered. The lagoon, like a tiny finger inlet, drove deep into the center of the property. It was surrounded by beach—man-made, she was fairly sure. A tiled path meandered around the lagoon on either side, and the cottages lay at pleasant but
haphazard angles behind the paths. At the end of the western side, a dock gave berth to a number of boats. On the east, a wooden jetty streaked out over the water, a place to walk out to see the sunsets. At the moment, canopied tents lay over the grounds. Near the rear of the main house, on the rear side of the porch where a coral rock slab stood a few feet off the ground, a four-piece band was playing oldies, and barbecues were working full-time.

“David, you're back!”

The woman who sauntered with long strides toward David instantly struck a chord of memory in Kit's mind—but not a very pleasant one. It was Lenore Delaney, she knew. Michael's wife, Josh's mother. She was slim to the point of gaunt, beautifully made-up and coiffured, elegant in every way, her features made almost excessively sharp with her slimness. She was dark auburn, and appeared much younger than Kit knew she had to be.

She greeted David with apparent warmth, hugging him, and offering him a kiss to each cheek. He responded politely, but, Kit thought, stiffly. He was angry, and hadn't wanted this kind of a commotion when they returned.