to sound paranoid. This isn’t some sort of mystery novel It’s just one of those weird little quirks of life—nothing more.
He did his best to rationalize what had happened. Things were bound to be awkward between them, considering their past history and what she had done to him. He considered himself a mature adult who certainly knew how to handle an uncomfortable situation. He had brought those skills into play often enough in his business dealings. And this was no different. At least that was what he tried to tell himself, even though he knew it wasn’t true. This was not business. It was personal—very personal.
Two
Wyatt drove through the large gated entrance and parked in the circular drive in front of the house. He looked up at the imposing two-story structure with its gleaming white paint, dark green shutters and roof, and the large verandah that spanned the front and sides of the house. A little tremor of anxiety jittered inside him. It had been ten years since he had set foot in the house. Now, more than ever, he wondered if he had made a colossal error in deciding to return.
“Wasn’t it Thomas Wolfe who said, ‘You can’t go home again’?” He said the words aloud to no one in particular. Perhaps Thomas Wolfe had been correct. He climbed out of the car, grabbed his suitcase, and walked up the front steps to the large oak double doors.
Just inside the front door he stopped and looked around. The house was elegant to the point of almost being out of place in such a rural setting. The foyer was two stories high, with a large crystal chandelier that hung from the cathedral ceiling. A curved oak staircase traveled up each side to a second-floor landing that looked down on the entrance. He had designated the ground-floor east wing as his office area. The west wing included the den, the billiards room and a small study that had been his father’s personal domain.
The formal living room, dining room and kitchen facilities were located straight back through the foyer, with servants’ quarters beyond the kitchen. The second floor consisted of a large master bedroom suite and a library on one side of the landing and guest rooms on the other side.
Fred Olson, the caretaker who had stayed on all the years that the property had remained vacant, lived in a small apartment above the three-car garage.
It was far too big a house just for Wyatt, but it had been in the family from his great-grandfather’s time. He had been approached on several occasions over the last few years by real-estate developers. They had offered him a lot of money for the land, but he had turned down all offers. He was not even sure why. Perhaps it had to do with family honor and tradition. More likely the house represented a time in his past that he did not want to lose—a time when Vicki was part of his life and he had assumed also a part of his future.
So, the large house on the hill had remained empty, silently standing watch over the valley below and the ocean beyond.
Wyatt ascended the staircase to the second floor. He had lots to do and the clock was ticking. He devoted the rest of his day to unpacking and organizing, with the hope that keeping busy would occupy his mind so that his thoughts would not turn toward Vicki. So far the plan had been a dismal failure.
In her store at the base of the hill, Vicki, too, tried to keep active. But her attention shifted to the window every time she heard a car door slam, the accompanying adrenaline surge telling her how frightened she was about the prospect of having Wyatt around all the time. Sometimes Noreen’s overabundance of good cheer got on her nerves, but not today. She encouraged her employee’s ongoing chatter, welcoming anything that kept her from thinking about Wyatt Edwards.
The day passed far too slowly. Each minute seemed like an hour. Richie visited the store after school, but she immediately sent him home to do his schoolwork. She did not want to risk Wyatt returning and running into her son... their son.
She had been almost four months pregnant with Wyatt’s child when she had married another man. Robert Bmgham knew she needed a stable home for her baby. He also knew she was not in love with him, but he said it did not matter. He had stood by her through a very difficult pregnancy. He had treated her with respect and unconditional love, and he could not have loved her son more if the boy had been his own, never once asking her about Richie’s biological father.
Vicki had an overwhelming respect for Robert and with time had grown to love him, too. But it was not the type of passionate, all-consuming love she had felt for Wyatt Edwards—a love that had never vanished from her consciousness. She had never been able to give Robert the kind of love that he had deserved, and it had hurt her each time she saw in his eyes that he knew there would always be someone else. He had never confronted her about it, but she had carried the self-inflicted guilt and the sorrow for the duration of their marriage.
And now her son’s real father had unexpectedly reappeared in her life. That posed a tremendous threat to her emotional security and that of her son. She needed to make sure nothing upset Richie’s memories of the loving and kind man he knew as his father.
That night as she lay in bed, Vicki was very restless, tossing and turning without getting much sleep. Morning finally came and she forced herself out of bed, leaving a tangled mess of sheets and blankets. Was this how it would be from now on? Would each day begin with an overwhelming fear that her most closely guarded secret would become public knowledge? That Wyatt would discover he had a son? That Richie’s world would crash around him even further than it already had? And all the while she would be looking at Wyatt and thinking what if?
“Come on, Richie.” She knocked on his bedroom door for the second time. “Get out of bed. You’re going to miss the school bus if you don’t hurry.” She heard the irritation in her voice and immediately admonished herself for letting it show.
A moment later the door opened and Richie appeared, dressed and ready for breakfast. He gave her a curious look. She impulsively pulled him into a hug and kissed his forehead.
He quickly squirmed from her arms and stepped back, making no effort to hide his exasperation. “Cut it out! What’s the matter with you today?”
She saw the embarrassment that covered his features, the same features that adorned Wyatt’s face. She smiled and started to reach for his hair, but stopped when he shot her the look. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just glad to see you, that’s all.”
“Sure, Mom.” A withering sigh surrounded his words. “I’m glad to see you, too.” His expression said he knew she had totally flipped out and senility had finally set in. He headed for the kitchen, gulped down a glass of orange juice, then reached for the box of cereal.
Vicki. hurried to work, arriving early so that she could take care of part of the morning routine in the store before the truck delivered the daily mail. She would be working alone until two o’clock when Noreen came to work. She sorted the mail, finishing just in time to make coffee and unlock the front door to the market.
She heard the bell that signaled that the outside door of the post office had been opened. Most likely someone wanted to check the mail before going to work. She turned to pour herself a cup of coffee. When she turned back, she found Wyatt standing in the connecting door, staring at her. The intense expression on his face sent a shiver of anxiety through her.
“Uh...good morning. I’m surprised to see you again so soon.” She took a sip of her coffee to avoid further conversation.
“I just came by to check on my mail,” Wyatt said. It was a feeble lie. They both knew there was no way he could have received any mail at his
