your dad was everything a father should be,” Mel sighed. “I know how cut up you were about losing your mother, Jude. You were very brave. But you had your dad and he was such a lovely man. My dad was very open about how stupid he thought we were.” Melinda dabbed at her eyes with a lace edged handkerchief.
It had an old-fashioned scent like lavender. Heck, it was lavender, the sort old ladies bought. Jude found that a little strange for so young a woman.
Nevertheless he shook his head. “Never stupid, Mel.” He comforted her. “You aren’t and you know you aren’t. It was just your father’s way of trying to keep you all down.”
“Well he succeeded.” Melinda bowed her head like a sacrificial lamb. “Death is always a shock, even when you’re half expecting it. He was my father, the most important person in my life. I feel a sense of awe he’s gone. You’re coming to the house aren’t you?” Her soft grey eyes held a plea.
“Of course. I’m executor of your father’s will. You do know that?”
“Ralph told us. I’m glad it’s you, not a strange lawyer. We really miss your father around here, Jude. He was very special. Like you.”
Jude gave a rueful smile. “I’m not so special, Mel. I’ve got my faults just like the next guy. There’ll be a reading whenever your mother feels up to it.”
Ralph, nearby, must have heard. He broke away from a group of mourners to stride up to them. “Thanks for coming, Jude.” The hard expression in his eyes didn’t match his words. In fact he looked confrontational. Good old Ralph, still mired in his adolescent jealousies and resentments, Jude thought. “It won’t take long at the house before everyone starts moving off. I’d like you to read the will straight after.”
Jude glanced towards Myra doubtfully. “Is that okay with your mother? She looks very frail.”
“It’s okay with me,” Ralph said tersely, turning on his heel again as though he was the only one who counted.
CHAPTER TWO
JUDE let the procession of mourners’ cars get away before he made a move towards the hire car. As usual Ralph rubbed him up the wrong way as soon as he opened his mouth. Now he wanted to get the reading over before he returned to his family home. He’d taken Bobbi’s advice and asked for his overdue vacation. Leonard Gooding had agreed on the spot, buoyed up by the fact Jude had managed to pull off a big, but complicated merger and in the process bring in new highly profitable business for the firm.
The path through the cemetery to the towering front gates was wide, but winding, flanked by enormous poincianas in full bloom. Their hectic blossoming had turned the very air rosy. The town cemetery was never a gloomy place even when the flowering was over. He should have had his eyes firmly on the drive but he happened to glance reflexively at his watch. When he looked up again, his heart skipped a beat, and every nerve ending tensed as he hit the brakes.
Right in front of him, a young woman was leaping back from the driveway to the grassy verge, her frozen expression betraying her shock at his car’s near silent approach.
“Damn!” Within seconds he was out of the vehicle, watching in dismay as first she staggered then fell to the grass, thickly scattered with spent blossom. Her heel must have caught on something, he realized, probably an exposed root of one of the poincianas.
He had a sensation of falling himself. He was always a careful driver. There was no excuse. “Are you all right?” Shoulders tensed, he bent to her, studying her with concern. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise anyone was still about.”
“My fault.” Graciously, instead of berating him, she accepted his hand, wincing slightly as he brought her to her feet. “I shouldn’t have been walking on the driveway at all. There are plenty of paths.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t injure your ankle?” They were a touch away but neither moved back.
“It’ll be fine,” she said quietly after a minute.
It was balm to his guilt. “That’s a blessing.” They both glanced down at her legs; classy legs on show in her short skirt. She wasn’t wearing stockings in the heat, the skin tanned a pale gold. There was no swelling as far as he could see, but it could develop. “Jude Conroy,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Cate Costello.” She took his hand briefly, the expression in her beautiful green eyes not soft and lingering like the women’s glances he was used to but quietly sizing him up.
“You’re new in town?” He found himself staring back, all sorts of emotions crashing down on him like a wild surf. Up close she was even more lovely than his glimpse at the gravesite, like a vision from some tantalising dream. Her eyes had an unusual setting that bestowed an extra distinction on her delicate features. He realized straightaway she possessed an attraction that went beyond the physical though there was no denying that was potent enough.
There was the unblemished creamy skin he’d first noted in the church. Her large eyes, the feature that really stopped him in his tracks were a clear green, with a definite upward curve at the corners. The brows matched. Her face was a perfect oval, the finely chiselled contours off set by a contradictory mouth. The top lip was finely cut, the bottom surprisingly full and cushiony. Looking at her it was difficult not to dredge up the old cliché “English rose” but just as attractive to Jude was the keen intelligence in her regard.
He knew he was taking far too much time studying her, but she seemed quite unselfconscious under his scrutiny. She had to be around twenty two-or -three, but she seemed very self-contained for her age. Her voice, matched her patrician appearance; clear and well modulated. He wondered at the colour of her hair beneath the silk scarf and even found himself wanting to remove it. There was no question she had him in a kind of spell. Maybe it was the witchcraft of the eyes? If he could keep talking to her until midnight maybe she would simply disappear?
As it was, she stood perfectly still, looking up at him, but he had the feeling she was equally well poised to run. “I’ve been here for six or seven months now,” she said calmly in response to his question. “I know who you are.”
Women habitually used that line with him. The old cynicism kicked in. “Really? Want to tell me how?”
“Anyone who comes to live in this town gets to know about you and your father,” she explained matter-of-factly. “Your father was much loved and respected. You’re the local celebrity.”
He shrugged that off. “And you are?” Despite himself the words came out with the touch of steel he reserved for his job. Immediately he was aware of little sparks starting to fly between them. Whether they were harmful or not he couldn’t yet say.
“I told you. Cate Costello.” Her expression became intent as though she was deciding whether she liked or disliked him.
“Are you a friend of the family?”
She stepped back out of the brilliant sunlight into the shade. “Is this an interrogation, Jude Conroy?”
“Why would you see it that way, Ms Costello?” he countered, with a mock inclination of the head. “It’s a perfectly normal question.”
“If you’d said it in a different tone perhaps. Anyone can see you’re a lawyer.”
“You
