The Heiress (6 page)

Amy drew a deep, quavering breath. “She took off with Jack Granger’s SUV and his credit card, and she even stole some cash out of his wallet. They’ve got that P.I. Dad likes—Harlan Decker—looking for her, but there’s no telling how long it will be before they find her.”

As always, the mention of Tom’s illegitimate child, and the problems Daisy perpetually seemed to cause, ignited a core of resentment within Grace. Try as she might, she couldn’t see the young woman as anything but proof of Tom’s betrayal. But figuring Amy didn’t need to know that, Grace turned the conversation back to Tom once again. “I’m the last person your father would want to see right now.”

Amy shrugged. “That may be true, Mom.” Her voice dropped beseechingly. “But you’re probably also the only person who can help.”

T
OM HAD FIGURED
Grace would show up sooner or later—he figured the kids would send her. So it was no surprise when she walked across the gangplank onto his yacht at 5:00 p.m. Thursday evening. Unlike Tom, who was wearing only a pair of navy-blue swim trunks and a pair of sunglasses, she looked pretty and professional in a white silk pantsuit. She also looked irked, and she didn’t waste any time starting in on him, either. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, propping her hands on her hips.

Tom continued disassembling the reel he’d been working on. “Exactly what it looks like, I’m repairing
my fishing rod.” It had taken a heck of a beating the last ten days or so, given the way he’d been using it.

Grace strode closer, her high heels clicking across the deck. She held a hand above her eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun. “People are going to start to talk.”

Tom shrugged. Like he gave a damn about that.

When he made no move to defend or explain himself, Grace released a short, aggravated breath, dragged a deck chair over and sat down beside him. She leaned forward. “Do you really want to disillusion our children any more than you already have with this extended vacation of yours?”

If Tom didn’t know better, he would’ve thought she cared about him, given the way she was acting. “Is that what I’m doing?” he asked dryly. He reached down into the toolbox beside him for a pair of pliers.

Grace huffed and spoke between tightly gritted teeth. “If you stay out here on the boat much longer, people will realize you’re not just taking a much-deserved few days off from work.”

Reassuring his ex would have been easy, but Tom decided not to tell Grace he had already determined he would return to work the following day, the Deveraux mansion that very night. After all, it wasn’t her business what he did, just as it wasn’t his business what she did.

Grimacing as the reel refused to cooperate with him, he decided to remind her she was hardly one to talk. “I’m surprised you were able to tear yourself away from your young lover.”

Pink color that had nothing to do with the summer heat and humidity flooded Grace’s cheeks. “I won’t discuss Paulo with you.”

Tom nodded gravely. “And no wonder,” he returned
sarcastically, “since being with
him
makes
you
a hypocrite.”

Grace’s eyes flashed with anger. “Me?”

Tom dropped both the reel and the pliers into the toolbox and reached into the cooler beside him for a beer. Eyes on Grace, he shook the excess water off the bottle and twisted open the top. “Weren’t you the one who always said that sex was something sacred, only to be embarked upon within the love and sanctity of marriage?”

Since their divorce, Tom noted, that view obviously hadn’t lasted. Not that Tom had been a saint, either, in the fifteen years he and Grace had been apart. He had made love to a dozen women over the years, enduring everything from a single one-night stand to a relationship that had lasted almost four months. But none of the entanglements had been satisfying, because he hadn’t loved any of the women, not the way he had once loved Grace.

Grace stood, her slender shoulders stiffening. “This isn’t helping.”

You’re telling me. It had been days now and all he could think of was Grace naked beneath that robe, her young gigolo standing there in a towel. Had Paulo discovered how spectacular her body was? Had she kissed him back like she meant it, or had she simply endured her young lover’s caresses, the way she had often tolerated his?

Grace clamped her lips together. “You have no right to comment on my actions.” She glared at Tom resentfully. “We’re not married anymore.”

Tom stared right back at her. “But you felt compelled to flaunt your affair with that guy in my face anyway,” Tom noted bitterly as he ran his hand across
his jaw, which was scraggly with a beard. His gut twisting with jealousy, Tom took another sip then set his bottle down beside him and turned his attention back to his reel.

“I didn’t ask you to show up at my place at the crack of dawn,” Grace continued, defending herself.

Not buying her excuse, Tom stopped rethreading the reel and regarded Grace steadily. “After what had happened the night before, you knew I would come to see you as soon as I could, to talk about Daisy and our four kids. Not that the other morning was the first time. You’ve been with that overrated, overpriced gigolo for weeks now!” And it killed Tom because he had thought—hoped—the relationship was just a flirtation, that at heart it was platonic. How foolish had that fantasy been?

Grace turned her face to the breeze.

Tom watched the soft blond layers of Grace’s hair get whipped around sexily by the salt-scented wind. “Being with him that way is wrong,” he snapped grimly.
And you know it.

A mixture of shock and fury widened her eyes as she turned back to him. “Says who?” Grace advanced on him emotionally, looking as though she was tempted to haul off and hit him. “You?” She poked her index finger against his bare chest. “The arbiter of extramarital sex? Please.” Grace threw up both hands in aggravation. “You’ve squired your share of young and beautiful women around since we split. And for all I know, even before we separated.”

That was unfair but typical, Tom thought. He stood, and really pissed off now, squared off with her. “I was only unfaithful to you once,” he said.

“And since?” Grace queried, arching her delicate blond eyebrows at him.

It was Tom’s turn to move his glance away. A muscle working convulsively in his jaw, he shifted to the harbor beyond. “You left me, remember?”

“For good reason, if you recall,” she reminded him.

Tom shook his head in exasperation. “Yeah, because you put a wall between us.”

“We had children, a home together…” She spoke as if she didn’t believe he was turning the tables on her.

But Tom knew it was the truth. And he knew, whether she liked it or not, it was past time his wife faced just how cold and unaffectionate she had been prior to his interlude with Iris. “Yes, Grace, you distanced yourself from me.”

“I was depressed! Finding out I was sterile was a devastating blow.”

Or an excuse. Tom tread nearer, trying not to recall how much he had wanted to make love to her then, how much—despite everything—he still did. “We already had four children, Grace.”

“Five,” Grace countered miserably, “if you count the baby we lost when I miscarried, the year after Amy was born.”

“But you wanted more, didn’t you?” Tom remembered bleakly. And when she couldn’t have them, she had completely turned away from him, in her heart and in their marriage.

“We both wanted more kids. Half a dozen, remember?” Grace’s voice became a strangled sob as she forged on. “Only I couldn’t because of the complications I had after the miscarriage. But that didn’t stop you, did it?” Her eyes gleamed with hurt as she re
minded, “Because you went right on to have another child without me—you had Daisy.”

Tom saw it all—the jealousy, envy, resentment—that another woman had given him what Grace no longer could. “That was never meant to be more than one night,” he told her with gut-wrenching honesty.

Grace stared at him and slowly shook her head, appearing as if she could hardly believe his naiveté. “That night created a child, Tom. It destroyed our family.” Tears flooded her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “But you can’t admit that to yourself even now, can you? You persist in saying and feeling I should just get over it.”

Tom swallowed hard. “Why can’t you?” he demanded, feeling more frustrated than ever.

Grace threw her hands up. “You know why I can’t! Because you betrayed me.”

Tom clamped down on his own hurt. Jaw set, he said, “I made a mistake.” It had been a bad one, yes. But it should not have ended their marriage.

“You ripped my heart in two,” Grace accused with insurmountable bitterness.

And, Tom thought sadly, she had never allowed him to put it back together again.

Grace turned away from him and walked over to the edge of the deck. Her back to the marina, she stared out at the harbor, and the coming together of the Ashley and Cooper Rivers. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said in a low, defeated voice.

Tom crossed to her side. Hands on her shoulders, he turned her resisting body to face him. “How can you say that?” he asked hoarsely. Didn’t she understand—would she never understand—his heart had been ripped into pieces, too?

“Because—” Grace turned her sad eyes up to his and continued dejectedly “—it would’ve happened eventually anyway.” She paused, shook her head in silent remonstration. “My grief and depression were just an excuse to do what you already wanted to do in your heart, Tom, what you had probably always wanted to do, which was forget the wife you had at home and bed down with some young, rich and sexy society girl.”

“That’s not true. It was
you,
Grace, who didn’t want
me.
”

Anger flared at the corners of her mouth. “Will you stop blaming me for what you did that night?” She balled her hands into fists. “You walked out on me, Tom. You answered Iris’s distress call and went to her apartment. You unzipped your pants, took off your trousers, and you were with her. And you probably would’ve kept right on seeing her if I hadn’t found you two.”

Tom knew it had been an ugly time. All because he’d had too much pride to go to Grace and tell her how lonely—how bereft and shut out—he felt. He should have gotten down on his knees and begged her to love him again. Instead, he had allowed himself to become angry, vengeful. And looked to another woman, who was just as needy and unhappy in her own way, for comfort. And for that, Tom would always blame himself. Just as virulently as Grace blamed him.

Mustering what little patience he had left, Tom explained, “You know I regret what happened that night with all my heart and soul. As for the rest…I stayed with you because I wanted to work it out.”

“No,” Grace corrected. “You stayed with me because you didn’t want to lose custody of your kids or
hurt your business or let your infidelity become public knowledge!”

What could Tom say to that? It was true. He hadn’t wanted any of those things to happen. He hadn’t wanted their life to fall apart, any more than it already had. And a divorce would have ensured even more misery than they had already suffered.

“So now you’re blaming me for wanting to stay married to you, is that it?”

“I am blaming you for destroying our family!” She advanced on him, voice breaking, looking if possible even more dejected and disillusioned with the situation they had found themselves in years ago. “You never should have cheated on me—on us—no matter how rejected you felt or what the situation was with us at the time. You should have done whatever we had to do to work it out and make our marriage strong and enduring instead of turning to someone else to warm your bed. And most of all—” she began to cry “—you should have
honored
the vows that we took, the promises we made to love each other and only each other for as long as we both live. Because if you had—if you had acted less selfishly—we would still be together now. And somewhere deep inside, Tom, you have to know that.”

Tom’s heart exploded with anger. He was tired of being painted the only wrong-doer here, tired of making apologies that fell on deaf ears. Tired of not being given the opportunity to make it up to her. “You know I’d do anything if I could take back what happened,” he said huskily, near breaking down himself. “But I can’t.”

Grace withdrew into herself, into the place where he had no hope of reaching her. “No,” she said before
assuming her on-air television personality, “you can’t.”

“And that pleases you,” Tom accused.

Grace stared at him as if she couldn’t possibly have heard right. “What?”

“Let’s be honest here, Grace.” Tom decided to cut the courtesy and lay all their cards on the table. “This wasn’t all bad news to you. You
wanted
an excuse to lock me out of your heart and keep me out of your bed. Because all you ever wanted me for was the big house and the cushy lifestyle and the kids.”

Grace gasped in indignation. “That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Tom lifted his eyebrow. As much as he loathed to admit it, he knew the truth. “You were never happy being my wife, Grace, even
before
Iris.”

Grace looked at him then as if she had never known him at all. “Maybe because back then that’s all I was. I needed a career. I needed—”

“Self-esteem?”

Grace reeled backward, as if he had slapped her. “You knew a career was important to me when you married me!”

“And I also knew it shouldn’t have mattered that you grew up in a small town, the daughter of parents who owned and ran a dry-cleaning store,” Tom said bitterly. He looked at his ex-wife, his heart aching. “You were everything to me, Grace. Everything. But you never let yourself believe it.”

“W
ELL
?” Chase said when Grace met her son and his new wife for dinner at a popular downtown-Charleston restaurant.

Chase had come straight from the offices of
Modern Man
magazine, and was dressed, as usual, in pleated
khaki trousers and a short-sleeve linen shirt perfect for the balmy September weather. Bridgett, a financial advisor, and noted author in her own right, was wearing a trim black skirt and silky black-and-white cardigan set. Grace smiled. The two of them looked so strikingly handsome together. Chase, with his wavy dark-brown hair, lively slate-blue eyes and tanned athletic presence. Bridgett, with her auburn hair, deep chocolate eyes and slender feminine frame. And more important, Grace thought, they were happy. And so much in love with each other, it filled her heart with joy.