caught the child, lifting him high in the air. For an instant Lucas’s face was open, and the love when he looked at his son touched a surprising chord in Corrie.
Was that what she really wanted from this trip? Some sign that the father she’d never known would have loved her?
“Please, Lucas. Put Jason down.” Eulalie fluttered toward them, hands outstretched as if to take a baby. “That’s not good for him.”
Not good for him? The words startled Corrie. Was something wrong with the boy? He looked like a normal six-year-old, fair and a little skinny, as active kids often were at that age.
But Lucas set him down immediately, something that might have been guilt flickering in his face. He brushed the boy’s silky blond hair back from his forehead gently.
“He’s all right. Corrie, this is my son, Jason. He’s eight.”
Corrie mentally adjusted her image of the child. He was a bit small for eight. He came forward to shake hands solemnly.
“Hi, Jason.” At last, someone who didn’t seem to be out to get her. She smiled at him.
“Hello, Cousin Corrie.”
Deidre jerked as if she’d been shot. “Don’t call her cousin, Jason. She’s not your cousin.”
“But Grandma said that Uncle Baxter said—”
“Just call me Corrie, okay?” She wouldn’t let a child be pulled into their quarrel. “I’m glad to meet you, Jason.”
His mother had been Deidre’s older sister—she knew that from the briefing the attorneys had given her. Julia, her name was. She’d died three years earlier.
Jason studied her, brown eyes grave. “You don’t look like a cowgirl.” He sounded disappointed.
Eulalie drew in a scandalized breath, but Corrie just smiled. Cowgirl was probably the least of the things the family had been calling her.
“Well, even cowgirls get a little dressed up to travel. My boots are in my luggage.”
Jason’s small face lit with a smile. “Maybe we can go riding while you’re here. My daddy’s a good rider. He’s won lots of ribbons.”
That was an unexpected sidelight on Lucas. “He’s probably better than I am, then.”
“Jason, you know you’re not allowed to ride,” Eulalie said. She frowned at Corrie, as if this were her fault.
“If we might get the conversation off horses, maybe we could decide what we’re doing.” Deidre poked furiously at the silver bowl of lilacs on the drop-leaf table.
“There’s no decision to be made. We’re going to do exactly what Baxter asked.” Lucas’s gaze rested on Corrie with a challenge. “I’m sure things will work out just as they should.”
In other words, he intended to expose her for a fraud.
She met his look defiantly. “Things usually do.”
His eyes darkened. For a moment the air between them sizzled with antagonism and some other emotion Corrie didn’t care to name. It was as if there was no one else in the room.
Lucas took a deliberate step back. Once again, Corrie had managed to get under his guard. He didn’t like it. He wouldn’t allow it.
Eulalie fluttered toward the archway, breaking the spell. “I don’t know why we’re all standing here in the hall. Come into the parlor, and we’ll have tea. I’m sure Corrie needs refreshment after her long trip.”
Deidre looked as if she’d like to slam out of the house. At his warning frown, she glared back, but then she turned and followed Eulalie.
He’d known from the moment Baxter told them about Corrie that Deidre would cause trouble. He sometimes had trouble remembering the lively little girl she’d been when he’d first started seeing her sister. Deidre had grown into a perennially dissatisfied young woman, and he didn’t know why.
He followed the women into the front parlor, holding Jason’s hand, and watched Corrie to see what she’d make of the place. She paused as she reached the edge of the Kirman carpet and looked the length of the room—actually adjoining parlors, divided by white Ionic columns that supported the central arch. The period furniture Baxter had collected over a lifetime was a fitting complement to the matching marble fireplaces.
“Beautiful.”
He was probably the only one who heard the breathed comment. “Home, sweet home,” he murmured.
He saw the color come up under her tan, but she didn’t look at him. She crossed instead to the brocade love seat and sat, head held high.
Eulalie poured Earl Grey from the Revere teapot. Obviously she’d decided to treat Corrie as an honored guest, since she’d had Baxter’s housekeeper get out the fragile china cups that had come to Savannah on an eighteenth-century merchant ship. Either that, or she was attempting to make Corrie feel like a fish out of water.
It was hard to tell. Eulalie had her Savannah lady face on, and no one did it better. She passed a cup and saucer to Corrie. “I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
Corrie balanced the fragile cup and saucer, looking as if tea-party conversation was beyond her. She took a breath and seemed to rally. “Not bad. Long.”
Deidre put two spoons of sugar in her cup, ignoring her mother’s frown. Eulalie didn’t need to worry. Deidre wore off everything she ate with that endless fidgeting of hers. Julia had been exactly the opposite—calm, serene, never troubling herself about anything that didn’t directly concern her.
“Where does one fly from to get out of Wyoming?” Deidre’s voice was edged with sarcasm.
He’d have to have another talk with her. There was a line between wanting to expose Corrie as a fraud and giving her an excuse to complain to Baxter about them.
“Actually, I flew out of Rapid City, South Dakota. That’s the closest airport to Ulee.” Corrie seemed to have her temper well in hand.
“I’m afraid I’ve never heard of Ulee, Wyoming.” Deidre made it sound like the back of beyond, which he supposed it was. Still, plenty of people thought of Savannah as a quaint backwater, notable only for its antebellum charm.
Corrie put her cup down with an audible click. “That’s where my mother and father met and married,” she said. “I should have thought that would occasion plenty of comment.”
Of course it had. He hadn’t been old enough to care at the time, but he’d heard plenty about it later. Trey, taking a summer off to tour the country, had met a waitress in the wilds of Wyoming and married her in less than a month, then foolishly expected his father to welcome her. He should have known better.
He was mildly amused at the expression on Deidre’s face, but maybe it was time to intervene. He didn’t care to be treated to another example of Deidre’s temper.
“Has
