The Heiress (22 page)

“Lots of things, as it happens,” Charlotte said lovingly, draping a maternal arm around Daisy’s shoulders.

“For starters—” Iris picked up where Charlotte had left off “—I’d like to offer you a job at Templeton’s Fine Antiques. You really should know more about the business, Daisy, since it’s going to be yours someday.”

Along with whatever nefarious activities Bucky felt was going on? “We’ve been over this,” Daisy explained patiently to Iris and Charlotte. She did not want to get into it again. “I’m not interested in antiques.”

Ignoring Iris’s hurt expression, Charlotte smiled and said, “Daisy’s right, Iris. We don’t have to talk about that just yet, since Daisy won’t be up to working for a while anyway. But there are some things she can do to get her life back the way it should be.”

That, Daisy thought, had ominous tones.

Iris glanced at her watch, frowned and removed a datebook and cell phone from her purse. “Daisy, is there somewhere private I could make a call?” she asked crisply.

Relieved to get a break from the double-teaming, Daisy nodded and pointed in the direction she wanted Iris—who had never been there before—to go. “Jack’s study, or the living room at the front of the house. The rooms are on either side of the foyer.”

“Thanks.” Iris rushed off, clasping her purse and datebook, already dialing.

Charlotte turned back to Daisy, her worry about Daisy evident. And as always when Charlotte was concerned, Charlotte took charge. “I’d like to take you
shopping for a new wardrobe. Maybe help you and Jack look for a new residence.”

Something bigger and more prestigious, Daisy presumed.

“I’ve already talked to your father about letting you have access to some of the money in your trust fund and resuming your allowance.”

Daisy held up a hand to stop Charlotte’s enthusiastic chatter. She knew Charlotte wanted to help, but upgrading Daisy and Jack’s life was not the way. “That’s not necessary, Mother.” Any money that came from her father would come with strings. Daisy wasn’t interested in owing anyone anything at this point.

Except maybe Jack…

For reasons Daisy didn’t quite understand, she didn’t mind the thought of being beholden to Jack. Maybe because she knew he wouldn’t take advantage or try and collect anything from Daisy that she did not want to give…

Ignoring Daisy’s unbending attitude, Charlotte continued with brisk determination, “I called Lauren Heyward—Mitch Deveraux’s new wife—and asked her for a rundown on current listings in the Historic District, near our house.”

Daisy knew if anyone knew what was for sale in the most prestigious areas of Charleston, it would be Lauren. Unfortunately, Daisy wasn’t interested in enhancing her lifestyle just to impress others. “I
like
living at the beach.”

“And I want to get you involved in charity work.”

Daisy was sure she would.

Iris marched back into the kitchen, her datebook, gold pen and cell phone in hand. “You’re assuming Daisy wants to stay married to Jack Granger, Mother.
Without a baby in the picture, that may not be the case.”

“Of course she has to stay married!” Charlotte countered, looking just as upset. “Marriage in our family is for life!”

Daisy knew they both meant well, but she didn’t have the strength to battle them on this. Feeling the sting of tears behind her eyelids, she forced the words out in the gruff, confrontational tone she had perfected over the years when fending off a personal attack. “This is my life, and I don’t want to discuss it with either of you.”

“Then what
do
you want?” Charlotte demanded, taken aback.

“To live my life the way I see fit!” Daisy raged back. “Without question or comment from anyone—especially family!” Why couldn’t they just accept the fact she was an adult now, free to make her own choices and live with the consequences, as she surely was?

For a moment, silence reigned in the kitchen, broken only by the sound of the central air conditioner. Then Iris stepped closer and wrapped a comforting arm around Daisy’s waist. “Oh, Daisy,” Iris said in a low compassionate voice. “All I’m saying is that you have a choice now—you can still take control of your life instead of letting circumstances control you.”

Daisy hunched her shoulders in an attempt to avoid melting into Iris’s sympathetic hug. She didn’t want their pity, she didn’t want to be caught between them, she just wanted them to go away.

“No, she can’t,” Charlotte said staunchly, moving to stand on Daisy’s other side. “Daisy has made her decision—now we all have to live with it.”

After a moment, Iris, giving up on connecting with
the stiff-as-a-board Daisy, looked hurt and moved away again. Daisy gritted her teeth as she met Charlotte’s glance. “You make my marriage to Jack sound like a life sentence,” Daisy muttered, determined she wasn’t going to let her family make her cry. Not ever again. And especially not this time.

“Actually,” Iris, ever the exceedingly practical one, countered, as she paced the adjacent family room, looking around casually as she moved, “it is, since being married to Jack will determine more about the quality and tone of your life than you could ever imagine. Which is why—” finding nothing of interest, Iris glanced up and continued with a stubbornness that nearly rivaled Daisy’s “—you should have an annulment while you have a chance. I’m sure there must be grounds. We can call our attorney and have him do whatever is necessary to make this whole debacle go away. And in the meantime, Daisy, you can do what I did and go abroad to wait until the scandal dies down. I promise you that in six months or a year, no one will even recall your brief unfortunate liaison with Jack. And you’ll still have your whole life—your future happiness—ahead of you.”

Daisy found it ironic that Iris was suggesting the same remedy she had once used to try to get her life back on track after her love affair with Tom Deveraux. “That’s your answer for everything, isn’t it, Iris?” Daisy said resentfully as the blood rushed from her chest to her neck and into her face. “Just hide until all the trouble goes away.”

Charlotte’s features stiffened into the long-suffering mask Daisy recalled so well from her youth. “Daisy, please, let’s not argue here or stir up any more unpleasantness.”

Iris sighed loudly, appearing more upset than ever. “Mother—”

Charlotte turned to Iris, ignoring Iris’s softly voiced warning to back off. “Daisy can handle this marriage. I know she can. Perhaps it isn’t the one we all wanted for her, but with the help of her trust fund, it can be made to be advantageous all the same.”

That was Charlotte all right, trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. And Iris, trying just as hard to forget about passion and think about money and luxury and comfort. Daisy was gripping the center island now, wishing she hadn’t brought her mother and sister inside. Had they stayed outside in the heat, the two would have been quicker to leave. And right now she desperately wanted both to go, before the situation turned really ugly, as it surely would if this conversation continued much longer. “I don’t want an annulment,” Daisy told both women stonily. “Or a divorce or anything of the kind. I want to stay married to Jack.” He made her feel safe. More important, he accepted her for who she was, flaws and all. Daisy had never had that from anyone.

Charlotte looked both pleased and relieved at Daisy’s decision, while Iris gaped at Daisy in stunned amazement. “You can’t be serious. Daisy, we’re talking about a lifetime commitment here.”

Like Daisy didn’t know what marriage was supposed to be? Even if no one close to her had ever had anything near the ideal? Feeling as if she would perish if she didn’t have something cold to drink, and soon, Daisy moved to the refrigerator. “So?”

“So you barely know the man!” Iris protested in a vain attempt to reason with Daisy.

“How do you know how close Jack and I are?”
Daisy shot right back as she pulled out a big bottle of springwater from the refrigerator and got three glasses down from the cupboard. “You’re as much in the dark about what is going on with me now as I was all those years when you were lying to me!” Daisy was so upset, she splashed water over the rims of the glasses.

“I did what I thought was best,” Iris insisted.

“Iris is right,” Charlotte continued with icy firmness. “We have to move on. What is past is over and done with.”

“And how did I know you were going to say that?” Daisy asked sarcastically as she was hit with a blast of unbearable weariness.

In the foyer beyond, the front door opened, closed. Seconds later, Jack walked in carrying two bags of groceries, a pharmacy bag and a plastic bag containing half a dozen videos. He had arranged to work at home for a week, so he could take care of Daisy and help her recuperate, and was dressed accordingly, in tailored khaki shorts, a navy polo shirt and deck shoes—all were worn. His thick sandy-brown hair was brushed away from his forehead, and he had one stem of a pair of sunglasses looped through the first buttonhole of his shirt.

If he was surprised to see their guests he didn’t show it as he nodded at Iris and Charlotte. “Hello, Mrs. Templeton. Iris.” He set the bags down on the opposite counter.

Knowing a rescue about to happen when she saw one, Daisy put her glass aside and moved toward Jack, not stopping until the side of her body was aligned with the front of his and her head was against his shoulder. “I’m really tired,” she moved up on tiptoe to murmur in his ear. “Can you help me back to bed?”

“Sure.” Jack’s arm closed protectively around her shoulders, his touch letting Daisy know in an instant that everything really was going to be all right. He turned to their guests, excusing them, “I’ll just be a minute—”

“That’s all right.” Charlotte lifted a gentle hand. “We’re going to be leaving. Daisy, you call me as soon as you’re up to doing the things we spoke about.”

“Or even if you just want to talk,” Iris added awkwardly, gathering up her things.

Daisy acknowledged their offers with a nod but said nothing else.

As promised, the two showed themselves out. “I feel like I interrupted something,” Jack said as soon as they were gone.

Daisy got as far as the closest sofa and collapsed. “Nothing I wanted to continue,” she said, realizing too late that something other than the one-piece turquoise maillot she was wearing to sunbathe in would have been nice.

Jack went back to the kitchen, and unable to tell which water glass was hers, simply poured her a new one and brought it back to her. He sat down next to her on the sofa, the hem of his shorts and his hair-roughened thigh pressing against hers. “They were giving you a hard time?”

Daisy nodded and did her best to make light of it. “It was your basic lecture on the advisability of forgetting about all their lies and the deception and returning to the family fold ASAP.”

Jack studied her implacably. “And?”

Daisy’s shoulders stiffened rebelliously. “I said no, of course.” Unable to take the soul-searching intensity of his gaze, she turned her glance away. “I can’t be the
socialite/philanthropist/dutiful wife Charlotte wants or the number-two person at Templeton’s Fine Antiques, Iris wants me to be. I’m going to be a professional photographer,” she finished in quiet determination. “And I’m staying married to you.”

Jack took a moment to reflect on that. “What does your father—Richard—want?”

Daisy rubbed at her thigh unhappily. “Who knows?”
Besides wishing I’d just disappear so all the Templeton family’s troubles could go away.

Jack stretched his legs out in front of him. Daisy had been inside the house long enough for the warmth of sunbathing to leave her body. A glance downward showed the physical response of her body to the chill of air-conditioning, a fact Jack had noticed, too.

“How did they feel about your decision?” Jack asked as Daisy pulled a throw from the sofa over her shoulders and chest. He reached over to help her wrap herself in warmth, continuing, “I’m guessing they weren’t happy.”

Daisy snuggled against him, liking the warmth of his bare thigh pressed against her bent knee. “You’re half-right.” She rested her head on the solidness of Jack’s shoulder and traced idle patterns on his chest. “Charlotte was happy—she believes marriage should be for life, and that your lack of blue blood and a bank account to match is something that can be worked around if she can convince Richard to tap into my fortune. Iris just—” Daisy drew a deep, stabilizing breath, straightened, moved away. “She doesn’t want me repeating her mistakes. She saw her passionate one-night stand with Tom as a huge error in judgment, and senses my marriage to you is based on the same type of fleeting fling.” Hearing how husky her voice sounded, Daisy took a sip
of water to ease the parched tightness of her throat and continued her recitation matter-of-factly. “Richard probably thinks I’m just remaining married to you to annoy them and cause a scandal.”

“Is that the only reason you’re staying?” Jack asked gently. Getting up, he moved back into the adjacent kitchen and began methodically putting away the groceries. “To get back at your family—for all the lies?”

Thinking maybe she should give him a hand, since he was being so nice to her, Daisy got up and found her legs were steady again. “To be honest, up to now,” she said, leaving the throw looped around her neck and shoulders like a beach towel, and walking over to join him, “it hadn’t even occurred to me.” She sat down on a stool and began taking things out of the bags for him and stacking them neatly on the center island between them. “But now that I think about it, I have to admit,” she continued, tongue in cheek, “causing such a family ruckus is a bonus.”

Ever the grown-up, Jack shook his head at her.

“Anything else happen while I was gone?” he asked casually.

She paused, letting the rebel in her go and turning serious once again. “Bucky Jerome was here.”

Jack froze. “And…?” he prodded tensely when Daisy didn’t immediately continue.

Daisy sorted through the videos he’d rented, which were, to her pleasure and surprise, all comedies. There wasn’t a single downer in the mix. Which was good, because Daisy didn’t need to be any more depressed. Aware Jack was still waiting for her summation of the encounter, Daisy said, “He’s still asking me a lot of questions about our marriage and my hospital stay. And he was also asking me a lot of questions about Rose
wood and the family business.” Daisy frowned in consternation. “It was like he was on to something—I don’t know, nefarious or suspect in some way.”