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Authors: Brenda Joyce

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BOOK: House of Dreams
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“Tracey!” Cass cried. “You don't know what you're saying!” Cass looked from her rigid aunt to her equally rigid sister.
Tracey said, chin high, “And not only am I going to Madrid, I'm taking Alyssa with me.”
“Please don't cry, Aunt Cass.”
Cass jerked up from where she had been lying on her bed, not exactly crying, but tears somehow slipping from her eyes. She was in a panic, thinking about Tracey taking Alyssa away, and no matter how she tried, she could not seem to think clearly.
Hadn't she always known that this would happen?
That one day Tracey would march into Belford House and take Alyssa away?
But that wasn't what was happening, she tried to tell herself. It was only a summer vacation, for God's sake!
Now she tried to smile at her worried niece and she failed.
Alyssa rushed forward, and Cass flung her arms around her, holding her hard and tight. “I'm a big, fat ninny,” Cass whispered unsteadily.
“You are not a ninny,” Alyssa said adamantly. “They'll make up, I know they will.” She smiled hopefully, but her big brown eyes were filled with concern.
Cass stroked her hair, glad Alyssa incorrectly thought her tears had been caused by the fight between her mom and her aunt. “Of course they will.” But she was thinking,
What if?
What if Tracey stayed in Spain—and did not send Alyssa back?
No! She must not anticipate the very worst! How could she even think such a thing?
But Cass was so sick. How could she not consider the worst? What would she do if Tracey decided to become a full-time mother? Alyssa
was the daughter Cass had never had. She could not survive if she was taken away. Should she fight her over custody? But how could she do such a thing, when it would tear the sisters apart forever—and destroy her niece? She tried to tell herself again that Tracey was so unpredictable, so changeable, that all this would blow over in a matter of days. Why, knowing Tracey, tomorrow she would change her plans entirely, decide to meet de la Barca in the south of France, without bringing Alyssa along.
She was neither soothed nor reassured.
There is a cloud hanging over that family.
No good has ever come of the families being involved.
Christ. Was Aunt Catherine right? Was this the result of some centuries-old curse or something?
Cass was the writer of fiction for several good reasons. As Tracey had succinctly pointed out she didn't have much of a real life. But more important, she adored the past, and she had an overactive imagination. Making up stories was the easiest thing in the world for Cass. Now her imagination was kicking into overdrive. On a certain level, Cass knew she was hysterical and overreacting. That she was inventing a scenario that might not be the truth. But she could not reduce the panic within her. She could not step back from her own worst fears.
“Then why are you crying?”
Alyssa's small, sweet voice cut in to her thoughts. Cass stared. “It hurts me to see them argue,” she finally said. How she hated lying to her niece.
“I hate it, too.” Alyssa sat down on the bed beside Cass. “But, Aunt Cass, Auntie Catherine is wrong. Mother only wants to take me for a holiday to Spain.” And her eyes sparkled.
Cass blinked. And as she realized that Alyssa was excited about the prospect of taking a trip with her mother, something inside of her twisted painfully. Was she being selfish as well as hysterical? Tracey had never taken a trip with her daughter.
It was only a summer vacation.
Alyssa was smiling now. Cass managed a smile in return, and she stroked her niece's hair. “It's very complicated, honey. Aunt Catherine's merely worried. After all, you've never traveled with your mom before. But you're right. A holiday with your mom, why, this is long overdue.” The sick feeling inside did not abate. The panic did not go away.
Alyssa nodded eagerly. “And you'll come, too.”
Cass started. It hadn't been a question. And her instinct was to agree—why not? Hadn't Antonio invited her to Spain to see the
portrait? But she said, slowly, “Honey, Tracey wants to take you, not me. Just the two of you. I wasn't invited.”
Alyssa had stopped smiling. “But it's not the two of us. Her boyfriend will be there, and his son. And I'll miss you. You have to come!”
Wouldn't that be the perfect solution? Cass thought. She would be present during the summer to make sure Tracey did not intend to keep Alyssa; she could see the portrait; and while she wasn't thrilled at the idea of spending time with the two lovebirds, she could take care of Alyssa properly, since Tracey did not have a clue as to the wants and needs of a seven-year-old child. “Your mom hasn't invited me,” Cass said finally.
“But you can tell her that you have to come.” Alyssa stared. “Aunt Cass, I can't go without you.”
Cass swallowed. It was the perfect solution. What did she have to lose?
Everything,
she thought grimly. “Okay. I'll drive out to see Tracey today.”
 
 
Cass sat ramrod-straight inside her two-door BMW, pulled up at the curb. The quaint, tree-lined street was jammed: Hempstead Heath was an extremely popular neighborhood, especially with artists, musicians, and the nouveau riche. The outdoor cafés and tables on the block were filled with the young and the hip; equally chic pedestrians were window-shopping numerous boutiques. And on the opposite side of the street was a series of mansions and villas, behind stone walls and wrought-iron gates.
Her heart was pounding and the air seemed constricted in her lungs and chest. Cass got out of her car, feeling as if she had aged a decade in the past twenty-four hours. And from what she had seen that morning just a few hours ago as she had showered and dressed, she had. She closed the sedan's door and walked to the crosswalk. She was in a daze, as well as exhausted, and she didn't wait for the light before crossing. Fortunately, there wasn't a lot of vehicular traffic, but a driver blared his horn at her just the same.
Cass really didn't hear. She could only hear one voice, one thought, there in her mind. She couldn't let Tracey take Alyssa away. She
had
to go with them to Spain.
The gates to Tracey's mansion were open. A garage abutted the limestone Tudor-style house, and the doors were open—Tracey's black Aston
Martin was visible inside. Cass hoped that meant she was home. And if she wasn't, she would wait.
Trepidation filled her. She walked up the white shell drive. Blooming gardens surrounded the house, but Cass hardly noticed. She rang the bell. Reminding herself to stay calm, no matter what.
Cass knew her sister. If Tracey saw how frightened she was, how she was unraveling, she would somehow use Cass's weakness against her. If she yelled and screamed, Tracey's determination would only increase. If she was clever and gentle, she could convince Tracey that bringing Alyssa along without her would only interfere in her private life.
A servant told her that Mrs. Tennant was in residence, and asked her to wait.
After a few minutes, Tracey came downstairs, clad in a pair of jeans and a skimpy top that somehow had
designer
written all over it. “Cass?” Her tone and expression were wary.
Cass tried to breathe evenly. So much was at stake. “Hello, Tracey. I had to come speak with you.”
Tracey stared, her expression not softening. “All right. Come in.”
Cass managed a smile, following her sister into a huge, mostly white, very modern living room. Tracey and Rick Tennant had bought the six-bedroom house together, just after their marriage, and Tracey had managed to keep it after the divorce. “Tracey, I am sorry about the fight.”
Tracey grimaced. “Did you hear what she said to me?”
“She didn't mean it,” Cass said quickly.
“Yes, she did. She meant every word. But then, she never really liked me. You were always the perfect one, the one who could do no wrong. You were always her favorite.”
Cass stared in surprise. “That's not true! You were always the apple of her eye, Trace. The picture-perfect angel in blond pigtails.”
Tracey laughed harshly. “Oh, please.” She fingered a huge crystal ashtray on a living room table.
Cass didn't know what to say. “I don't understand how this has happened. I don't think Catherine is well. I am sure she will come to her senses in no time.”
Tracey looked up and shrugged. “I don't care if she is going bonkers. She hates Antonio—but I love him. And that is that.”
Cass turned away, stared at the gardens outside, then turned back. “You know, you're right. I am a bit jealous, and I am sorry, really sorry, for it.”
Tracey's eyes widened.
“I mean, he is a great guy and it's obvious. I wish you the best, Trace.”
“That's why you drove out here today? To wish me the best?” Tracey was disbelieving.
“I'm really upset by that fight. I didn't mean to take sides. I didn't realize that sometimes I stick my nose where it doesn't belong. It's really hard, Trace, being the glue in this family. We seem to need glue. I'm just trying to help.” Cass meant every word. She was the glue in the family. The mediator, the peacemaker, the go-between. It was never easy, but maybe, sometimes, she shouldn't interfere. But she was only trying to help.
Tracey stared. “You're just too nice sometimes,” she finally said. “Sometimes I wish I were more like you.”
Cass looked up. “You're kidding, right?”
Tracey shrugged. “I know I'm too wild. It must be a genetic defect.”
Cass's pulse raced. “Look at me. Always with my nose in a book.”
They smiled tentatively at one another.
“So when are you leaving?” Cass asked, not breathing.
“I've booked tickets for the eighth. And frankly, I don't know when I'm going to come back,” Tracey said.
Cass's heart felt as if it had lurched to a stop. She found it difficult to breathe—Tracey had just admitted what Cass was afraid of. “Tracey, Alyssa starts school the last week of August. On the thirtieth, to be exact.”
Tracey waved at her. “I hadn't thought that far ahead. Don't worry, she won't miss school.”
Cass felt the tension riddling her body. Should she believe her? No
good has ever come of the families being involved.
Cass could practically see Tracey and Antonio, with Alyssa between them, strolling down the block of some quaint Spanish village, just like a real family. “Tracey, have you thought about what it will be like, taking care of a child all by yourself for most of the summer? I mean, you can't go out to dinner with Antonio and leave the kids behind by themselves. Whenever you want to go out, you will have to hire a baby-sitter.”
“I'll hire a nanny when I get there. Full-time. I already thought about it, Cass,” Tracey said with a smile.
Cass was alarmed. “You have to check the person's references thoroughly. You have no idea how rotten some nannies are!”
“You're really worried,” Tracey said, appearing somewhat amused.
And Cass felt her eyes grow moist. “I love her so much. And we
both know you're not good at taking care of her. Little kids need so much. They can act and sound like adults, but they're children, with frightened, needy hearts that crave love and attention.”
“I'm not changing my mind,” Tracey said flatly, unsmiling. “Alyssa is coming. She'll have a great summer. Eduardo's a very nice boy. I'm certain they'll be friends.”
Cass stared, sweating. “I could come. I could take care of the kids while you and Antonio do whatever it is that the two of you like to do.”
Tracey looked at her, eyes wider now, and then she laughed, shaking her head. “No. I don't think so. The whole point is for Antonio to see that I can be a good mother. If you come, he'll see how great you are with kids and how lousy I am. No bloody chance.” She shook her head again.
Cass crossed her arms. “I knew there had to be an angle,” she said recklessly, ignoring the voice within her that told her not to take this tack. “So this is what this holiday is about? Using Alyssa to shore up your relationship with your boyfriend?”
“I am not using Alyssa,” Tracey said fiercely. “And who said anything about shoring up my relationship? Antonio is in love with me, in case you haven't noticed.”
“So what's new?” Cass retorted. “He's only number one hundred and fifty-six. Or is it two hundred and fifty-six?”
Tracey paled. Then her face turned red. “Get out.”
Cass jumped. “I'm sorry. That was uncalled-for. It's just—”
“No. You meant it. You are so hoity-toity—as if you're better than me because you're just like Aunt Catherine, an aging old maid who's practically a virgin. God, it's so sad! What is there to be proud of?”
Cass stepped backward, her heart pumping hard now. Her fists clenched. “Maybe I'm proud to be Alyssa's real mother, being as her biological mother is too busy scoring new lovers to bother with her very own daughter.”
BOOK: House of Dreams
3.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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