Heart of Winter (7 page)

Sadie just shook her head when they were back in the dining room. “Never,” she whispered, smiling. “I've never seen her so animated. She just lies there and hates it. Tonight, for the first time, she came alive. Nicky, what did you do?”

“I stirred her up,” Nicky said with twinkling eyes. “That's all. People need stirring up now and again, especially when they're bitter.”

“You should see what Nicole did to Winthrop,” Gerald mused. “He left home.”

“That wasn't my fault.”

“Tell me about it,” Gerald invited, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes.

“It wasn't. All I did was…” She hesitated, her face turning red as she thought about what she'd done and the way she and Winthrop had kissed so hungrily in the woods.

Gerald raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Sadie.

“Is everything on the table?” Nicky asked quickly, sitting down.

With the subject safely changed, they took their places and began to eat. Watching Gerald and Sadie, she could easily see that they felt something for each other. Nicole's gentle heart went out to them, because it was obvious that they couldn't have any kind of future together in this situation. Putting Mrs. Todd in a nursing home would be condemning her to death. And Nicole had a feeling that she was very possessive about her daughter, perhaps without realizing it. Sadie was shy and so was Gerald, to a large extent. It was a difficult situation.

Sadie made a vanilla pudding and when it was dished up, Nicole took a tray to Mrs. Todd's room.

“I haven't enjoyed anything so much for a long time,” Mrs. Todd sighed when she finished. “It's so hard to bear, being like this. I was always active, able to do as I pleased. And now…”

“Won't you get better?” Nicole asked quietly.

“I don't know. The doctors said I might. But that was a year ago; I think they've given up now.”

Nicole put the tray to one side. “That's a nice bird feeder outside the window,” she remarked, glancing at the elaborate chrome and glass affair.

“I love birds,” the old lady explained. “I can watch them.”

Nicole pursed her lips. “Do you have any binoculars?”

Her eyes gleamed. “No.”

“I'll get you some. How about a book on birds, so you can identify them?”

The old eyes got brighter. “I'd love it!”

“Done. Just give me a few days. Now, how about a good murder mystery? There's one on television, one of those Agatha Christie ones, and I won't even tell you who done it.”

Mrs. Todd actually laughed. “You should be with the young people, Nicole.”

“The young people are—what did you flappers call it—spooning,” she whispered conspiratorially. “At least, I hope they are. Gerald's very shy, and I think your daughter is, too.”

“Yes, she is, poor child. She's such a good girl, and she's been so sweet to come and look after me. A lot of children would have turned their backs, or put me in a nursing home,” Mrs. Todd said worriedly. “She hasn't said anything about it, but I know she's lonely here.”

Nicole patted the old hand. “She loves you.”

Mrs. Todd looked up. “And that young man…is he yours?”

She shook her head. “But I think he might be Sadie's. Would you mind?”

Mrs. Todd thought about it for a minute. “Well, no. He's a good boy. Not a patch on Winthrop, mind you, but the Christophers are fine people. I knew their mother. She was a dream girl.”

“I hear their father was a nightmare man,” Nicole said, fishing for information.

“Oh, no. He was a dynamo. We were all so jealous when he went to New York after Margaret. She didn't want to come, they'd had some terrible falling out. But he made her, kept her down at that house a virtual prisoner, until she agreed to marry him. Just between you and me, I think he took unfair advantage, too, but she loved him like a tigress. They were very happy.”

“Did he look like Winthrop?” Nicole asked softly.

The old eyes seemed suddenly young. “Yes.”

“A big man?”

“Body and heart. How is Winthrop? Is he getting over that woman?”

“I don't know him that well.”

“Of course you don't, but you light up when I mention him, all the same. Turn on the television, child, and save your blushes. And then why don't you say good-night to the young lovers for us both and we'll hope something nice develops.”

Nicole laughed delightedly as she followed the smug instructions. She tiptoed down the hall. It was unusually quiet, and when she reached the hall door, she saw why. Gerald, who seemed such a quiet and shy man, had Sadie in an embrace that spoke volumes and the way they were kissing said everything. Nicole tiptoed back and shut Mrs. Todd's door.

“Did you say good-night?” she asked Nicky.

Nicky said no with a straight face. “They're having a lively discussion. I expect it will be some time before we hear from them.”

Mrs. Todd settled back against her pillows. “Lovely. I think it would do Sadie good to have company more often.”

Nicole just smiled and settled down to watch the movie.

 

It was late the next morning before Nicole heard the sound of a vehicle coming up the driveway. That would be Gerald, she thought and she smiled at Sadie.

“I've had a lovely time,” she told the other woman. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“I'm glad you did,” Sadie mused. “Mother hasn't enjoyed herself that much since the stroke. You were just what she needed to shake her out of her lethargy. And now that I know you aren't making eyes at my Gerald, I'll be your best friend.”

Nicole's eyebrows arched in surprise. “You didn't think that?”

“Of course I did,” Sadie replied, amused. “So did everybody else. Gerald isn't the kind of man who brings women home, even secretaries, unless they mean something to him. Or at least, that's what we all figured.”

Nicole wondered then about Winthrop's strange behavior, and if he could have thought the same thing. She went back over her easy friendship with her boss and began to see what an outsider might have seen.

“He's a very nice man,” Nicole began quietly, “but…”

“That ‘but' saved your life,” Sadie whispered conspiratorially. She looked up as a knock sounded on the door and she went to open it with wide, bright eyes. But it wasn't Gerald standing outside. It was Winthrop.

S
adie's face fell, although she tried not to let her disappointment show. “Oh, hello,” she faltered. Winthrop's expression didn't encourage any pleasurable outbursts. He looked out of humor and unapproachable. Nicole, watching him, thought that he'd had time to build walls again, and he'd done it with enthusiasm. So much for her optimistic outlook on the future; the iceman had frozen over.

“Where's Gerald?” Nicole asked hesitantly. Her question made the situation even worse.

He positively glared at her. “He's at home on the phone, coping with some office disaster that one of his vice presidents is in the middle of. He's drinking buttermilk by the gallon, eating antacid tablets by the handful and generally getting sicker by the minute.”

“Winthrop, you should have disconnected the phone,” Sadie sighed.

He smiled at Sadie. “How's your mother?”

“Doing better, thanks, and all because of Nicky. She built a fire under Mama,” Sadie grinned.

Winthrop stared at Nicole speculatively. “She's good at starting fires, all right,” he said, but it wasn't a compliment. He was spoiling for a fight.

Nicole glared back. He was wearing jeans with a chambray shirt and the familiar sheepskin jacket, and a wide-brimmed hat shadowed his cold face. He looked very Western and deliciously sexy. Nicole wondered why he always seemed to button his shirts up almost to the throat, and found herself unexpectedly curious about what was underneath. Hair peeked out at his throat, and she remembered the springy feel of his chest under her hands that evening he'd caught her on the steps….

Winthrop was telling Sadie something about a party.

Nicole snapped back to the present. “A party?”

“Gerald thinks you're getting bored without some fun, buried out here in the sticks,” Winthrop told her. “He wants to give a party. There'll be a band and all the neighbors will come. You too, Sadie. I'll drive Mary up to sit with your mother.”

“I haven't been to a party in a long time,” Sadie confessed wistfully.

“Neither have I, but I guess we'll have to make the best of it,” Winthrop said with unflattering resignation. “It'll be Friday night, around six. I'll drive Mary up and fetch you.”

“Couldn't Gerald?” Nicole suggested.

Winthrop openly gaped at her. “What?”

“He'll have to welcome his guests and so will you,” Sadie reminded Nicole.

Nicky sighed. “I guess so.” She picked up her case, which Winthrop promptly took away from her, and followed him out to the truck with a rueful wave at Sadie.

He got in under the wheel, threw up a hand at Sadie and reversed the pickup with deft, controlled movements. He didn't speak until he had it headed down the long, winding road toward the ranch.

“I didn't expect to find you here,” he said curtly, lighting a cigarette as he drove. The wind was fierce and the truck lurched. It was getting dark against the horizon, heavy blue clouds building over the peaks.

“It wouldn't have looked right, to have Gerald and me under the same roof alone,” she faltered.

He glanced at her. “Then, my God, how does it look to have the three of us under one roof?” he shot back.

She hadn't thought about that. She flushed scarlet and moved her gaze out the window. “How was your trip?”

“Fine.”

“When did you get back?”

“About an hour ago.”

She stared at her hands in her lap. She'd felt her heart soar when he walked into Sadie's living room, but now all she felt was miserable. He'd left town because he didn't want to take her out, and now he was as remote as the clouds. She felt abandoned.

“Don't look like that,” he said abruptly.

“Like what?” she muttered.

“Lost. Wounded.”

She studied her hands in her lap, twisting the small emerald ring she wore on her right ring finger. “You've been spoiling for a fight ever since you came in the door.”

“And you don't know why?” he taunted, and his eyes cut at her. “Or hasn't it occurred to you yet that I want you?”

It had, but only in a vague way. She felt her face flush at hearing it put into words, and so bluntly. She couldn't even look at him. She was feeling a tenderness she'd never experienced, and he'd reduced it to something casual and physical and faintly irritating.

“That's plain enough,” she said in a soft tone, forcing herself not to react violently when what she wanted most to do was push him out the door and down a sharp ravine.

He wouldn't back down, he told himself, no matter how miserable she looked. His jaw tautened as he wheeled the truck around a sharp curve, scattering dirt and gravel on the unsurfaced road.

“You get under my skin,” he said abruptly. “I don't like it.”

Her heart shifted uncomfortably. She stared out at the tall trees in the graying horizon. “You have the same effect on me,” she said curtly, “and I don't like it, either.”

“Then suppose we keep out of each other's way,” he suggested. “You won't be here that much longer.”

“That might be wise.”

He drew on his cigarette, and then he turned and looked at her just as she lifted her eyes to his. The truck almost went off the road. He braked easily enough to stop the truck, but his gaze didn't waver. Her eyes were greener than new leaves on spring trees, he thought absently, his own narrowing with kindling hunger. She was young and soft and sweet and she made him ache as he had in his youth, made him feel invulnerable and all male.

Her lips parted, but she couldn't look away. It was like holding a live wire in bare hands. Her breath shuddered out of her throat and she felt throbbing fire in her blood.

“If I touched you now, there wouldn't be any stopping for either of us,” he said in a deep, slow tone. His broad chest rose and fell heavily, and his eyes were narrow, dark. “You knock me off balance.”

“You said yourself,” she whispered, trying to be rational, “that you'd been away from women for a long time.”

“And you think it's proximity that's causing my reaction to you?” he asked with a mocking smile. He reached out a lean hand and idly linked her fingers into his with a caressing pressure that was as arousing as a kiss. Her heart began to race, and her breath came in smothered whispers that she tried not to let him see.

“That,” he whispered, “is chemistry. It doesn't have anything to do with proximity, or age, or sanity. I touch you, and my body aches. And if the way you're breathing is any indication, Kentucky girl, you're on fire for me.”

She bit her lip, hard. But the tremors wouldn't stop. She tugged her hand away from his and he released it with careless indifference and went back to smoking his cigarette.

“Don't worry,” he said with cool mockery, “I won't tell your boss. I love my brother. His happiness comes first.”

She frowned slightly. “I don't understand.”

“Don't you?” He turned back to the steering wheel and put the truck into gear without another word.

She rode beside him in an uncomfortable silence. She wanted to tell him that he'd gotten it all wrong, that she and Gerald were only boss and secretary. But he looked too unapproachable and she wasn't sure of him. Her feelings for Winthrop were new and a little frightening. She didn't want to have to face them.

When they got back to the house, he got out to carry her bag up to the front porch, all bristling masculine humor. He limped more than he usually did, too, and she wondered if it was due to his bad temper or if he was in pain from the walking he must have had to do on his trip.

“I don't understand why you're so angry at me,” she murmured as she joined him on the porch. “I haven't done anything….”

“This is why,” he said quietly. He looked down at her from his formidable height and, aware of Mary standing just inside the door, he did something with his hands, in sign language—first a movement like someone drinking out of a cup, and then an odd movement with his elbows and closed fists. “See if you can get Mary to translate that,” he chided, turning. “And you'll know it all.”

She stared after him wistfully, loving the lines of his elegant body, the muscular fitness that emanated from him despite that limp. He was the most attractive man she'd ever known. And if he'd looked back, and seen her standing there watching him, it might have erased some of the ill humor from his dark face. But he went away without a backward glance and Mary seemed to vanish into thin air as Nicole went inside with her overnight case.

“There you are,” Gerald moaned, rubbing his stomach as he appeared in the doorway of Winthrop's study. “My ulcer is killing me. Have Mary pour me some buttermilk, will you? Then we've got to get some paperwork done and see if we can sort out this mix-up in taxes. Hurry, Nicky!”

“Yes, sir!”

She got the milk from the kitchen, curious about Mary's oddly smug look.

“There's something I want to ask you.” Nicole hesitated. “Those signs Winthrop made on the front porch—you saw them. What did they mean?”

Mary grinned, showing even white teeth. “Interesting things.”

“What did he say?”

Mary folded her arms over her ample bosom. “Much.”

“Well?”

“Hard to translate into English,” Mary continued. “Many Indian signs have no equivalent in English.”

“Yes, but you must have some idea what he said,” Nicole persisted.

“Good idea, all right, but I must give thought to the proper manner of expressing it to you.” Mary turned back to making a thick-crusted apple pie. “Some time soon, I will translate it for you.” Then she grinned again over her shoulder and giggled.

Nicole, no wiser than before, sighed and carried the milk to Gerald.

The tangle took time to straighten out, especially over the phone, and by the time it was done, Nicole was too tired to do anything except eat a light supper and go to bed. Winthrop, as usual, was out working, so she didn't have to worry about keeping peace with him.

 

During the next few days, as she helped Gerald plan the party in her honor, Nicole puzzled over Winthrop's cool behavior and Gerald's continued stomach pain. Gerald and Sadie had gotten off to such a great start, and now he seemed morose and moody and worried.

Nicole had planned a menu of hors d'oeuvres and finger foods for a buffet, and arranged for a local band to play. Gerald had called the neighbors to invite them.

“This will be fun,” he said as he finished. “There hasn't been any music in this house since Winthrop announced his engagement.” He seemed far away for a minute and wistful. “There was music that night, and the neighbors came over, and we danced until after midnight. Mrs. Todd was fit as a fiddle back then, and she danced, too.” He glanced at Nicole from his comfortable armchair. “Winthrop hasn't allowed music in the house since, although I can't blame him. He won't go near a party, either. He says he can't dance because of his leg, but I think the memories are stopping him more than any physical pain.”

“I guess he really loved her,” she said, remembering what little Winthrop had told her about his feelings at the time.

“It's been three years. He should be healing, mentally at least.”

She didn't like to think about Winthrop's broken heart, or the cause of it. Her feelings were too turbulent, and jealousy was still topmost.

“Will he even come to the party?” she asked.

“He'll have to,” he chuckled. “Or the neighbors will talk about him. He hates gossip more than he hates music. At least, he does since the accident. It never used to matter in the old days.”

“We haven't heard from Sadie lately,” she said with deliberate casualness.

He looked uncomfortable. “Her mother hasn't been well.”

She studied his wan face. “Hasn't she?”

He shifted restlessly, crossing his legs. “She doesn't want to lose Sadie,” he said curtly. “She's afraid of being alone, or at the mercy of strangers in some nursing home. I can't blame her, Nicole. It's just that Sadie's so young to be buried alive like that.”

“Couldn't Mrs. Todd get better if she had more interest in life, in living?”

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But it's very hard to keep that interest going. You made a good start with her. Unfortunately, she's only enthusiastic when people are around. The minute they leave, she goes back to brooding.”

“Doesn't she have relatives besides Sadie?”

“She has a sister in Florida,” he murmured. “Ten years her junior and a live wire. She wants Mrs. Todd to come and visit, but Mrs. Todd is terrified to leave here. She has some idea that she'll die if she does. Meanwhile,” he sighed, “Sadie is trapped. She loves her mother, you know.”

“And you love Sadie,” she said quietly.