for a month,” she said. “No one forced me to do anything. I could have called it off. I don’t honestly know why I didn’t.”
“The Tustin report mentioned amnesia and post-traumatic stress disorder,” Joseph said.
“That’s what my doctor said,” Erin agreed.
“Mind telling me your symptoms?”
“I’ve had nightmares, and I haven’t been able to think straight. Sometimes the people around me seemed like strangers, even my mother. When it came to Chet, I drew a blank, but I figured that was temporary. Why didn’t I recognize that I don’t love him? It seems so obvious now.”
“Trauma victims often feel detached from their emotions,” Joseph told her. “Does that fit what you’re talking about?”
She nodded. “I didn’t really come alive until today. But I’m not sure that’s an excuse.”
“You’ve always doubted yourself,” Joseph said. “In high school, even when you knew your parents were trying to micromanage your life, you needed reassurance before you would trust your instincts. Between the trauma and your lack of confidence, Chet played you like a violin.”
“You think he did it on purpose?” He’d made a convincing case about believing he was following her wishes.
“He’s as ruthless as they come,” Joseph said. “If you want my opinion, the man’s capable of anything. Of course, I’m not the world’s biggest fan of politicians.”
“He seemed convinced I mistreated him.”
“He may really believe it. In his view, anyone who doesn’t give him his way is mistreating him.”
“That’s true!” She’d forgotten what a great sounding board Joseph made. “You have a gift for putting things in perspective.”
“And you have a gift for being so sweet-natured, you give the world your heart on a platter,” Joseph said. “The problem is, the world’s a tough place, Erin.”
“I don’t want to be tough,” she said.
“And I don’t want you to be.” His voice grew gentle. “But you may have to, for your own protection.”
Stumbling on the rough walkway in her satin slippers, she brushed against him. The contact sent sparkles shimmering through across her skin and Erin registered that she’d been right about one thing. She did remember how he smelled: like a woodland in a spring rain.
He righted her, but otherwise kept his hands to himself. There were none of the casual caresses that had come so naturally when they were younger.
She knew better than to expect a return to their old closeness. Joseph had done more than enough for her already.
When they reached her mother’s suite, Erin saw that the curtains were drawn against the afternoon brightness. Alice had to be feeling ill again, she thought worriedly.
This news was going to be hard to break. Her mom had always been a formidable figure, able to intimidate Erin with a mere lift of the eyebrow. Only since her father’s death had it become apparent that beneath the resolute exterior hid an uncertain sense of self.
Even so, Erin figured she was in for a rough time.
At her knock, the door cracked open and Brandy Schorr, her mother’s housekeeper, peered out. Despite her smooth bun and trim blouse and skirt, the pouches beneath Brandy’s eyes gave her a dissipated air. “Is the ceremony starting, Miss? I’ll send her right out.”
“No, thank you. I need to talk to my mother,” Erin said.
Brandy spotted Joseph. She didn’t even try to disguise her antipathy. “What’s he doing here?”
“I’m assisting Miss Marshall,” he said. “At her request.”
The housekeeper chewed her lip before responding. “Mr. Bolding told me your investigation was finished. He said he doesn’t want you near Mrs. Bolding.”
“He isn’t here about her accident. He’s with me.” Erin pushed the door wider, ignoring Brandy’s half-hearted protest. Although she’d found the housekeeper pleasant during the past month, she had no particular ties to the woman, who’d only worked for the Boldings for a few months. Apparently, Lance had driven away the previous one.
“I can’t let you…” Brandy let the sentence trail off as Erin quelled her with a glare worthy of Andrew Marshall.
“Mom?” she called into the interior. Despite the brightness of the day, the front room lay in darkness save for one small lamp beside the couch. “I need to talk to you.”
“What is it?” The familiar rasp of her mother’s voice rang out as Alice materialized from the shadows. “Is something wrong?”
For weeks, Erin had feared her mother was letting herself go. Today, her upswept strawberry-blond locks emphasized both her patrician features and the sharp protrusion of cheekbones. Her peach-colored dress with its pearl-seeded jacket clung to a figure that was much too thin.
“Mom, I’ve called off the wedding,” Erin blurted.
“What?” Alice, who’d been eyeing Joseph dubiously, turned her full attention on her daughter.
“I can’t marry Chet. I don’t love him.” The words poured out of her. “I never accepted his proposal. He lied to me about that. I trusted him because I couldn’t trust myself, if that makes any sense. It’s lucky I found out the truth in time.”
She braced herself for a needle-sharp rebuke. She knew full well that the cream of Sundown Valley society was gathering and that countless hours of hard work had gone into whipping up the wedding.
“Have you told Chet?” Alice asked.
Erin nodded. “Of course.”
“Well.” Her attention returned to Joseph. “What is this detective doing here?”
“I had a few questions for your daughter,” he said.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” Erin rushed on. “I don’t think I can face all those people. Is there any way…could someone else…”
Alice sighed. “Lance will tell them. You come home with us, sweetheart, and we’ll take care of you.”
Erin threw her arms around her mother and started to cry. “Thank you.” She should have known her mother would come through when her daughter needed her most.
“We’ll work this out.” Despite her casual tone, her mother’s tight smile seemed pained.
Fearing she might be hurting her, Erin let go. She hadn’t realized until she felt the delicate bones how frail Alice had become. Although she was only forty-nine, the events of the last few months had taken their toll.
Lance had done this to her. Erin couldn’t let Alice stay there alone with him.
“I’m not going home,” she said.
