Нора Робертс - Hideaway

He lowered his forehead to hers in a gesture she found as sweet as the ponies’ eyes. “I have to wash my hands because I need to get ahold of you.”

As she walked with him toward the pump, Red came around the far side of the barn. “We got your horseshoes, we got your bocce, and some chairs set up if anybody wants to take a load off watching the play.”

“Thanks, Red.”

“Woman in White,” he said to Cate. “You’re a straight-out vision.”

“Aw.”

“Now, do you want to hear it, or do you want to put it aside for the day?”

“I want to hear it, then put it aside for the day.”

“You’re a sensible girl, Cate. You always were. Okay, so I’ll round it up. Dupont’s up onstage, ballroom of the Beverly Hills Hotel for this high-class do to hype her Mother’s Heart deal. She’s been mingling around, like a lot of them, then she sat down by Buster at their table for a bit before going up to do her soliloquy. She’s just over five minutes into it when, according to witnesses, Buster seemed to have trouble getting air. Then he keeled right out of the chair onto the floor.

“People scrambled, like you’d expect. It took Dupont a minute, but she scrambled, too.”

“There must have been doctors there,” Cate said.

“Yeah, there were. A couple of them got to him quick, got people to move back. Tried CPR on him, called nine-one-one. He went fast, nothing they could do. Dupont’s wailing, dragging at him. Plenty of pictures of her holding him in her lap. Cops came in. It looked like a heart attack, and it wouldn’t’ve been his first.”

Red shifted, nudged at his Wayfarers. “But the cops came in, and a crime scene team. They covered the bases. Digitalis, killing dose, in his gin and tonic. Server’s cleared, so’s the bartender who mixed it. A lot of people milling around, like I said, and they’ll do a lot of interviews. But the fact is, one person benefitted most from his death, one person sat right next to him at the table, had the easiest access, and that same person’s already getting the eye from authorities on two murders, two attempteds. She’s going to get a harder look now.”

“Do you think she did it?”

“I can’t give you a yes or no on that, but if you asked me do I think she’s capable of it? You’re damn right I do.”

“So do I.” Cate released a breath, one of cleansing. “I’m sorry the man died, and I’m sorry about the way he died. I’m not sorry she’s back in the frying pan. If she’s guilty, I hope they lock her up for good this time. If she’s innocent, well, she’s about to find out what it’s like to do nothing wrong and still pay a hard price.”

“Like I said, a sensible girl. You oughta know they’re keeping an eye on Sparks, too.”

“On this? But—”

“Cops are suspicious bastards, Caitlyn.” He said it with pride. “So you have to suspect, if you’re a cop, this whole thing is one big setup. What does Sparks do? What’s his nature? He sets up marks. He’s got plenty of motive to want Charlotte Dupont to land in that frying pan.”

“If he could orchestrate all this from prison, if he could have two people murdered, why not just kill her?”

“If you kill somebody, it’s done. Put them in that pan? They burn a long time. Trust me, high-dollar lawyers aside, she’s sizzling now.”

“Hey!” Maggie, grass-green braid dangling, shouted from her bedroom window. “Haven’t you three got work to do? You expect people to eat out of serving dishes with their hands? Get those plates set up, and the flatware. Don’t forget the damn napkins.”

“Woman’s a slave driver,” Red commented when Maggie pulled her head back in. “But I just can’t quit her.” He turned back to Cate. “Put it away.”

“Done.”

As predicted, there was good food, good people, and plenty of music. Cate found it easy to embrace the moment. She sat with Leo and Hailey, cuddled Grace the amazing, watched wide-eyed kids circle the paddock on patient, plodding ponies.

It made her wish for Darlie and Luke even as she pictured them settling into their home in Antrim, with a puppy named Dog.

Watching her grandparents sing a duet, she tipped her head to her father’s shoulder. “They’ve still got it.”

“And know how to use it. They’re never going to retire. Not all the way.”

Even as he said it, Hugh walked over, took Cate’s hand. “Remember that routine in the pub from Donovan’s Dream ?”

“Probably. Sure. Now?” Amused, more than reluctant, she tugged back when he tugged her hand. “Here? Grandpa, I was barely six.”

“Muscle memory. Come on now, there’s a fiddle player here who claims he knows the tune. You wouldn’t let your old grandfather down, would you?”

“Oh, that’s cheating. I was six,” she said again, as Aidan helped by pushing her to her feet. “Oh God, I’m going to have to move to Fiji with Julia after this.”

It was a quick, bright tune, and the fiddler played it well enough, and with plenty of enthusiasm. Cate tried to cast herself back, to remember the steps, the moves, the words.

Just a kind of strut to start while she held Hugh’s hand. And into a five-beat riff walk.

He winked at her, just as he had then. And she was back.

Around them, people kept the time, let out whistles, even sang along. Through all of them, Aidan studied Dillon.

He knew it, of course, had seen it, heard it, felt it, every time he saw the two of them together. He knew the boy spent his nights in his daughter’s bed, and felt, as the father of a grown woman, he’d adjusted well to that.

But here and now, under a bright summer sky, remembering when his girl had been a girl, just six, it both cracked and lifted his father’s heart.

They ended as they’d begun, hand in hand, smiling at each other.

“That was one of the happiest times of my life,” she murmured as she embraced Hugh.

“Mine, too. I’m not as young as I was.”

“Me either!” Laughing, she led him back to the table. “Take ten, Sullivan.”

“I’d take it better with a beer. It’s a picnic.”

When she got the nod from Lily, Cate kissed his cheek. “Then I’ll get you one.”

“Well done, Dad. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Aidan walked straight to Dillon, who still had his eyes on Cate and was obviously trying to extricate himself from a gaggle of people to get to her.

“Sorry.” All charm, Aidan smiled, slapped a couple of backs. “I need to steal Dillon a minute.”

“Thanks,” Dillon began as they moved away. “I wanted to—”

“I know what you wanted. We need to talk first.”

He walked toward the front of the house—fewer people. Still, some hung out on the porch, so he kept walking, heading toward the field where the cattle grazed. Where the woods lay behind them.

The woods where his little girl had run, lost and terrified.

“She’s my only child,” Aidan began. “I’ve had to fight the instinct to keep her wrapped up tight and safe, to keep her with me every second. It was my grandmother who pushed me to give her room, when we were in Ireland. She was right, my grandmother. But I knew when I wasn’t there, right there, Nan was.”

“I never met her,” Dillon said carefully, “but I feel like I know her from the way Cate talks about her.”

“She was a presence. When we came back to California, I knew my father and Lily were there when I wasn’t. Even when Cate demanded, and Christ, did she, to go to New York, I knew Lily would be there. After that, Cate didn’t give me much choice in it. She would live her life, and I want that for her. Love is letting go as much as it’s holding on.”

“I love her. I’ve loved her a long time, so I know that’s true.”