store in Union Square.
“Parks,” Rachel said, understanding at once. “It’s down this way.”
Sara found her heart speeding up when they stopped to look in the window at the top-line jewelry. Entering the showroom, she felt like a sneak thief, as if she was there for nefarious purposes.
“May I help you?” a smartly dressed woman asked.
She wore a black suit with a black silk camisole and a necklace of the largest pearls Sara had ever seen. The necklace and earrings were set off to perfection by the fairness of the woman’s skin and the darkness of her hair and suit. Her eyes were very pale blue-gray.
“We’re just looking,” Rachel said breezily, her tone implying they might buy something if anything struck their fancy.
The woman smiled, nodded and faded into the background.
Sara glanced around the store. It was as exquisite as the woman, done in subtle tones of beige and blue and red, colors taken from an Oriental rug that separated a small seating area from the rest of the store.
Diamond jewelry in gold settings was displayed on a background of deep royal-blue velvet. Other pieces in white gold, or perhaps platinum, were on red velvet. In one case, hundreds of loose gems were artfully arranged like a river of ice cascading over the landscape of velvet.
Everywhere she looked, Sara saw elegance—in paintings on the walls, in rich drapes at the windows, even the gate barring entrance into a back room was made of delicately scrolled wrought-iron that looked like a work of art. Classical music played softly through unseen speakers.
It was all so understated in a rich and sumptuous way.
This was what the Parks family had. This was what their children believed to be their birthright. But part of this empire should have belonged to her family. And what of Tyler and Conrad, Walter Parks’s sons through his affair with their mother?
The door swung open, interrupting her inspection.
A subtle tension entered the elegant showroom. The woman in black straightened slightly, as if coming to attention. A younger man, busy shining an already shiny counter, became busier. Three elderly women, who had been discussing a graduation present for their niece, glanced up, then smiled at the man who’d entered.
Sara recognized him at once.
Walter Parks was sixty, but he was a man who kept himself in good physical shape. He was trim and athletic-looking, his face deeply tanned and leathery from hours in the sun. Tennis, she thought. Golf. Exclusive country clubs. He could afford the membership and greens fees.
At six-two, he was as tall as his son and her neighbor, Cade. His hair was salt-and-pepper gray, his eyes brown.
She hated him on sight.
Rachel laid a hand on her arm and gestured toward the man as he walked through the store and went behind the far counter. Sara nodded that she knew who he was.
“Did the courier arrive?” he asked the store manager, not bothering with a greeting.
“Yes. I put the package in the safe.”
He nodded and disappeared into the back.
Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.
The word pounded in Sara’s head with each beat of her heart. She could hear her mother’s weakened voice, murmuring his name and the accusation as she sank into a coma, her heart giving up the battle to sustain life.
“Make…him…pay,” Marla had whispered to her children as they gathered at her bedside.
“We will,” Tyler had vowed.
“Let’s go,” Sara said to Rachel. “Let’s get out of here.”
After one glance at Sara, Rachel nodded and took her arm, leading her outside and away from the sight of anyone in the store. Sara leaned against the building and forced air into her constricted lungs.
“Are you all right?” Rachel asked.
“Yes. I think so,” Sara added, pushing a smile onto her face. “I am. Really.”
“I didn’t think about him walking in the door while we were there,” Rachel admitted. “It took us both by surprise.”
“Yes. He looks like…”
“Cade?” Rachel guessed.
Sara nodded. “I didn’t realize there would be so much family resemblance.” She shook her head slightly as if to ward off the comparison. “I think I’m ready to go home.”
Back at Sara’s house, Rachel dropped her off, then rolled down the car window. “Don’t forget our big date tomorrow night,” she called out, laughter in her voice.
“I won’t.” Sara waved goodbye before opening the door to her place. No one seemed to be in next door.
Thinking of Stacy, she was filled with regret for the future and the possible hurt to the girl and her father. But then, there was all the regret of the past that Marla Carlton and her four children had had to live with.
“You’re all dressed up,” Stacy said Saturday evening, coming out the door and sitting on the stoop beside Sara.
Sara wore a red knit pantsuit that was one of her favorite outfits and a splurge last year when she’d been happy. Before her fiancé, Chad, then her mother, had died.
“I’m going out to dinner with my brother and his friend tonight. Miss Hanson is going, too.”
Stacy nodded as if she approved.
Sara glanced up and down the street. “She’s supposed to be here by now, but she’s late.”
“Maybe she had a wreck like my mother did.”
The child’s matter-of-fact suggestion startled Sara. Stacy’s world had been shaken by her mother’s death when she was three. Sara wondered again how much the child remembered. Did the bright youngster recall anything her grandfather and father might have said—
Realizing where this thought was leading, Sara broke it off, appalled at the idea of quizzing a child about her family’s private conversations. She could never be a detective as Tyler was, asking intrusive questions and suspecting people of lies and evasions.
“Hello,” a masculine voice said behind them.
Sara stood, her gaze held by Cade’s as he stepped out the door. His smile was warm and beguiling, but in an open way, as if his thoughts were as innocent as his daughter’s.
Since meeting this man, she’d realized how self-centered her fiancé had been. He’d always insisted on having his way. Cade was considerate and good-natured.
“Good evening,” she said, sounding breathless and unsure of herself as undefined emotion clutched at her throat, making it difficult to breathe.
“You look especially lovely
