Jude Deveraux (5 page)

Six
weeks later, she handed the manuscript to a fiction editor who had agreed to
read it as a favor to Eden. Next morning the editor had burst into Eden's
office to tell her she wanted to publish the book. Eden had acted cool, keeping
her composure, but now she knew how people felt when she called them and asked
to publish their books: screaming, crying, general hysterics.

The bad
part was that Eden had no one to share the wonderful news with. She wanted to
tell Melissa, but her daughter would tell Stuart, and his jealousy would ruin
what should have been a wonderful event. And he would put Melissa between them.

The
book was now due to come out in three months. Advance reader copies had already
been printed and sent out to critics and libraries all over the United States.
So far, the comments had been favorable. Actually, they were great. She told
herself that the book would never hit the best-seller lists, but she hoped that
it would do well. The few people in her publishing house who'd read the book
had certainly liked it. If someone came into her office laughing, you could bet
that he'd read it. 'Bisexual lover' became a catchphrase around the publishing
house.

It
wouldn't be long before Eden would have to tell Melissa and Stuart about the
book, and until this moment she had thought of her book as yet another triumph over
Stuart's arrogance. But right now, Eden wasn't seeing it as a triumph. Right
now she was seeing her success as another page in her daughter's divorce
decree.

Standing
up, Eden knew what she had to do.

Mrs.
Farrington had saved the life of Eden and her unborn child, and now it just
might be possible that Mrs. Farrington had saved a marriage and preserved a
good mother-daughter relationship.

Eden
took a deep breath and put on a brave face. She had to prepare herself for the
coming storm. When she told them she was leaving, there'd be tears from her
daughter and triumph from Stuart. Eden had to be strong.

As Eden
walked down King Street in Arundel, North Carolina, she thought that the best
thing about historic towns was that they looked better the older they got. It
was twenty-two years since she'd been here, yet the town had improved with age.
The brick sidewalks were more bowed from the roots of the trees that had
buckled them, and the old houses were even more precious and rare.

Smiling,
feeling better than she had in years, Eden turned the heavy brass knob of the
door to the law office of Mr. Braddon Granville and went inside. There was a
small reception area, decorated in reproduction Colonial furniture, and a huge
multipaned window that looked out on downtown Arundel. No one was behind the
desk, so Eden stood in front of the window and looked out at the pretty little
town, the water of the sound glistening to her left.

She'd
arrived in Raleigh last night, had rented a car and driven to Arundel. She was
staying in the restored Tredwell house at one of the many bed-and-breakfasts in
town. It had been a lovely, warm spring evening, and part of her had wanted to
go outside and look around, but she hadn't. She was still in shock over the way
the news of her leaving New York had been received by her daughter. Eden didn't
like to think so, but Melissa had seemed almost glad that her mother was going.
It seemed that all the things that had been a revelation to Eden had been part
of her daughter's life for some time. Melissa, seemingly so young and still
seeming to need her mother, had been quietly thrilled that she was at last
going to be mistress of her own household. She was going to live alone with her
husband, and
he
was going to start being her baby coach.

The
minute Eden told them she was moving, Stuart got out pen, paper, and a
calculator and started figuring out the rent they'd pay her for the apartment.
There was no question that they'd remain. After an initial show of tears and
some hugs, Melissa began to talk of curtains and wall paint.

Fifteen
minutes after she had made her announcement, Eden crept back to her bedroom,
feeling as though she was the only one who hadn't understood what was going on.
After a restless night, she went to her publishing house the next morning and
told them her news. As she'd known there would be, another editor was ready and
more than willing to take over her stable of writers. It took only a week to
sort things out. Eden would become a freelance reader for her publishing house,
and a freelance copy editor too. They would send her manuscripts, and she'd
comb through them to make sure the author didn't have someone wearing a
wristwatch in 1610. Or, more likely, that a character went to a party wearing a
red dress, then left wearing a green pantsuit.

It had
all been amazingly easy. Eight days after she'd received the letter, Eden was
packed and ready to leave. She'd called Braddon Granville's office to ask him
if the house was livable.

'Yes,
quite livable,' he'd said in a deep, pleasant voice. 'Mrs. Farrington did some
major renovations after her son died. It seems that a teapot she owned had been
made by Paul Revere, so she sold it for quite a lot of money. Sorry, but none
of the proceeds are left. She spent every cent renovating the house. Between
you and me, Ms. Palmer, I think she wanted to leave the house in good shape for
you.'

Eden
had nearly started crying on the telephone. At least someone loved her! She
could hear her daughter and Stuart in the living room talking in low whispers.
They had four wallpaper books and eight fabric sample books on the floor and
were planning what they were going to do to the apartment as soon as Eden left.

'Ms.
Palmer?'

'Yes,
I'm here. It's been an emotional time for me to hear that my friend died. We
didn't see each other for years, but I cared a great deal for her.'

'She
was a wonderful woman, but she'd had a full life. My grandfather cried like a
baby at her funeral.'

'He's
still alive?' Eden asked, wiping at her eyes with a tissue.

'Yes
and no. Alzheimer's. He can't remember yesterday, but he remembers fifty years
ago quite well. Unfortunately, some of his memories are, well, of an
embarrassing nature. We caught him telling his twelve-year-old
great-granddaughter about his trysts with Alice Farrington under a weeping
willow tree.'

Eden
couldn't help but laugh.

'So you
heard the story too.'

Eden
could hear the smile in his voice. She also heard something else. Was he
flirting? Just then one of Melissa's giggles came from the living room; Eden had
never felt more unwanted in her life. 'We'll have to compare notes of what we
heard,' she said, her voice lowered.

'I'd
like that very much. Perhaps over dinner one night.'

'That
would be perfect,' Eden said in her softest voice, just as she heard Melissa
say, 'Stuart, quit that! She'll hear us.'

'I'll
look forward to meeting you on the sixth,' he said, and they hung up.

'Well,
well, well,' Eden said. One of the descendants of the beautiful Granville boys
had asked her on a date. After a moment's elation, Eden sighed. 'He's probably
married and has six kids,' she mumbled. 'And dinner is purely professional.'

*   *   *

'Are
you Ms. Palmer?' Eden turned to see a young woman, about Melissa's age, with a file
folder in her hand. She looked Eden up and down hard, as though scrutinizing
her.

'Yes,
I'm Eden Palmer.'

The
girl held out her hand to shake. 'I'm Camden Granville.' She nodded toward the
closed door behind her. 'He's my father.' Again she  looked   at  
Eden   hard.   'He's  fifty-four,  in perfect
health, and he has been a widower for three years now. He has all his teeth,
doesn't smoke, and he'd like to meet a woman who can talk about something
outside this town.'

Eden
blinked for a moment, then laughed. 'I'll see what I can do, about talking
about something outside of this town, that is. Maybe I should mention Madison
Avenue, or complain about taxi service. This jacket has a Bergdorf s label.
Think I should show it to him?'

The
girl didn't smile. 'How are your teeth?'

'All
mine, as is my hair.'

'Good,'
the girl said, still not smiling, then she opened the door and motioned for
Eden to go inside.

Behind
the big mahogany desk sat a very good-looking man. He was broad-shouldered with
a thick chest, and his suit fit him perfectly. He had a thick mane of
salt-and-pepper hair. Very handsome indeed. He got up to shake her hand, then
motioned her to a seat across from his desk.

'Did my
daughter put you through it?' he asked.

'Completely.
I'm to show you my teeth and the label inside my jacket.'

'I can
do without the jacket, but I'd like to get a much closer look at your teeth.'

In
spite of herself, Eden blushed. She'd meant to make a joke, not a sexual
innuendo. It had been a long time since a man had made a pass at her. In New
York, she'd had about three dates, each leading nowhere. The city was full of
young, beautiful, young, gorgeous, young women. Eden felt that she'd never had
a chance.

'So,'
he said, looking down at a file folder on his desk. 'Mrs. Farrington left you
everything. Did you know that it took me over a year to find you? You did a
good job of disappearing. It was Henry Walters who said it was his guess that
you were in publishing.'

'Henry,'
Eden said, smiling. 'He always was impressed with my ability to spell.'

'Henry
was impressed with everything about you. You were a young girl in a terrible
situation, but you managed to make the best of it. He said you cataloged all
the Farrington papers and became a good friend to cantankerous old Mrs.
Farrington in the process.'

'No,
not cantankerous. She was kind and generous and easy to love.' Eden looked down
at her hands on her lap. This man's compliments and his open appraisal of her
as a woman were making her feel shy. He really was
very
good-looking.
And she was also cursed with her memories of what Mrs. Farrington had told her
about the Granville boys. Was this man as good a lover as his grandfather and
great-uncle had been?

He was
smiling. 'I heard she used to greet trespassers with a shotgun.'

Eden
lost her smile. 'She was a woman alone, and that house is well off the road.
You can't imagine the number of drunken fishermen who would show up there at
three on a Saturday morning, wanting to put their boats in the river at Mrs.
Farrington's dock. And of course there were all those stupid stories about the
sapphire necklace that was supposed to be hidden on the property somewhere.
Mrs. Farrington had a lot to deal with.'

Braddon
Granville was looking at her with interest. 'I see,' he said, then smiled when
Eden lowered her head, her face turning red. 'Unfortunately, I didn't get to
know her until after you had left.'

When he
reached into his desk and pulled out a set of keys, Eden felt her heart leap.
There was the little silver angel that she'd seen in Mrs. Farrington's hands so
often.

He held
the keys for several moments, seeming to be reluctant to pass them on. 'If I
didn't have clients coming down from Virginia today, I'd drive you out to the
house myself, just to make sure it's safe.'

'Have
things in Arundel changed that much?' She wasn't serious in her question. As
far as she'd seen, very little had changed.

'You
remember the cabin near the old house?'

Cabin?
she thought, then smiled. 'The washhouse?'

He
smiled back. 'Yes, the washhouse. You sound like one of the old-timers around
here.' All the buildings around the plantations kept the names of their
original uses, no matter what had been done to them. 'After Alester Farrington
died — ' He looked up when Eden drew in her breath.

'What
happened to Mrs. Farrington after I left? I had to leave because . . . ' She
didn't finish her sentence. She didn't want to disparage Mrs. Farrington's son.

'Yes, I
was told why you left. I think your daughter is a few years older than mine. Cammie
is twenty-four.'

'Melissa
is twenty-seven and about to have a baby in a few months.'

'Grandkids
are wonderful.'

'I'm
looking forward to my first one. But what happened to Mrs. Farrington and her
son?'

He
looked down at his desk for a few moments. 'It was all rather unpleasant. There
was an incident in town. A child . . . '

Eden's
mouth hardened.

'The
child wasn't hurt, just scared. She had some scratches on her, and her clothes
had been torn, but she was okay. She said she escaped from an old shack by
pulling a board off the wall. She identified the man who took her from the
street by his photograph.'

'Alester
Farrington?'

'Yes.
The police went after him, but when they got to Farrington Manor, they found
out that he'd fallen off the pier at the back of the house, hit his head, and
drowned.' Mr. Granville lowered his voice. 'I can tell you that there wasn't
much investigation into that accident.'

'No,
there shouldn't have been,' Eden said. She knew in her heart that Mrs.
Farrington had stopped her son from ever hurting another child.

'She
lived alone out there for years after that. Waiting to die, my grandfather
said. She wouldn't see anyone. She hired someone to bring her groceries, but
that was all. I used to go check on her every other week, but I can't say that
we ever became friends. She was my client only because my father had retired.'
He smiled. 'She said I wasn't nearly as handsome as my grandfather was.'

'Yes,
she'd say that.' Eden wanted to change the subject or she'd start crying. 'You
said on the phone that the house is in good shape. What about the furniture?
I'm afraid that what little furniture I own I left in New York with my daughter
and her husband.'

'Ah,
the things we do for our children. The house is fully furnished, but I know
that the son sold off the best pieces.' He was still holding the keys, turning
them around in his hands. 'You wouldn't like to stay in town until this
afternoon, would you? I could go out to the house with you then.'

'No,'
she said, then leaned forward and took the keys out of his hands. Eden knew
without a doubt that she was going to start crying as soon as she saw the
place, and she didn't want anyone to see her. 'What about tomorrow?' she asked.
'I'll get groceries today and make some soup. How does homemade soup and some
fresh bread sound?'

'Great,'
he said, smiling, and Eden smiled back. She gathered her things and stood up.
'Tell me, Mr. Granville, is your daughter for or against your dating? I
couldn't tell by her expression.'

'Very
much for it. She says that I'm a helpless man without a wife, so she wants to
marry me off.'

He
looked at Eden so hard, with so much intention, that she blushed.

'Well, 
ah  ...  '  she  said nervously. 'Uh, I'll . . . come
tomorrow at six. I'll probably have a hundred questions to ask you by then.'