Cathy Gillen - The Heiress

“And?” Grace prodded anxiously. If anyone would be able to tell if there was something medically wrong, causing Tom—the epitome of tranquillity under stress—to behave that way, Grace knew it would have been Gabe.

Amy shrugged. “Gabe said that medically there was nothing wrong with Daddy—he wasn’t clinically depressed—he was just totally devastated.”

“Well, he’s allowed to take a break,” Grace said, telling herself Tom’s emotional state had nothing to do with finding Paulo at her place, and everything to do with being identified as a philanderer to his grown children.

Amy laid a hand over her heart. “That’s what we all thought initially. But now that it’s been going on for nearly two weeks, we’re beginning to get scared.”

Grace had to agree, that didn’t sound like Tom. Not at all. Even in the midst of the divorce and their darkest days together, he had never taken off work. But instead had sought solace and refuge in his work, just as Grace was doing now.

Grace paused, still trying to make sense of Tom’s actions. “Is he taking the yacht out?” Tom did love to go boating, always had. And it was an affection he had passed on to all their children.

“Occasionally.” Amy stuck her hands in the front of her overalls, which were emblazoned with the name of her redecorating business. “Mostly he just sits on the yacht and broods.”

That didn’t sound good, but it didn’t sound lethal, either. Grace sighed and for the benefit of staff around them kept the carefully composed smile on her face. “Have you talked to your father about this?”

Amy hesitated. She ducked her head, studying the toe of her sneaker. “I haven’t seen him.”

Grace wasn’t surprised. In the past, when she and Tom had been quarreling, their children had pretty much run for the hills and tried to stay as far away from any familial turmoil as they could. None of them had wanted to take sides in Grace and Tom’s marital problems, and Grace couldn’t blame them. Their mutual anger and resentment had been hard enough for her and Tom to deal with. Neither of them had wished it on their children. Besides, their four kids—five if you counted Daisy now for Tom—had their own problems, careers and lives to attend to, and each other to go to for comfort and counsel. But, Grace determined that didn’t mean Amy could identify a problem, dump it on Grace’s doorstep and then run away. “If you’re so concerned—and I can see that you are—why haven’t you seen your dad?” Grace asked quietly.

Amy’s chin took on a petulant tilt and her eyes glowed with blue fire. “Because I’m still mad at him, and I don’t want to make things worse, and anyway—Nick said I should wait until I cool off and can listen objectively to what Daddy has to say about what happened.”

That sounded like Amy’s husband, Grace thought, realizing all over again how glad she was that Nick was now a member of the Deveraux clan. Nick had not only helped Grace find a new career path to take in the wake of her firing from Rise and Shine, America! by signing her to do a television show for his production company, he had given Amy the tenderness, stability and practical guidance Grace’s ever-so-romantic daughter needed to remain grounded and optimistic.

“But honestly, I don’t know when that will be. Chase, Mitch, Gabe and I have had several discussions about this, and we are all still very mad at him—even Mitch—who is Dad’s lieutenant in just about everything. I mean, all these years we thought you were responsible for the divorce, that you going to New York City to take the job when you knew Dad’s work and all our lives were here in Charleston, was what caused the breakup. But now we know the truth.” Amy’s voice dropped to an anguished murmur as the production staff and construction workers continued to give Grace and Amy wide berth. “We know what Daddy did to you. And we still can’t believe that he slept with Iris Templeton! My God!” Amy’s eyes welled with tears once again.

Grace saw the disillusionment in her daughter’s eyes, remembered full well how that felt, and her heart went out to her. “Oh, Amy, honey—” Grace put her arm around Amy’s shoulders.

“And poor Daisy,” Amy interrupted before Grace could comfort her further. “She’s apparently disappeared, too.”

Grace paused as that news sank in. “What do you mean, disappeared?” Grace demanded uneasily.

Amy drew a deep, quavering breath. “She took off with Jack Granger’s SUV and his credit card, and she even stole some cash out of his wallet. They’ve got that P.I. Dad likes—Harlan Decker—looking for her, but there’s no telling how long it will be before they find her.”

As always, the mention of Tom’s illegitimate child, and the problems Daisy perpetually seemed to cause, ignited a core of resentment within Grace. Try as she might, she couldn’t see the young woman as anything but proof of Tom’s betrayal. But figuring Amy didn’t need to know that, Grace turned the conversation back to Tom once again. “I’m the last person your father would want to see right now.”

Amy shrugged. “That may be true, Mom.” Her voice dropped beseechingly. “But you’re probably also the only person who can help.”

TOM HAD FIGURED Grace would show up sooner or later—he figured the kids would send her. So it was no surprise when she walked across the gangplank onto his yacht at 5:00 p.m. Thursday evening. Unlike Tom, who was wearing only a pair of navy-blue swim trunks and a pair of sunglasses, she looked pretty and professional in a white silk pantsuit. She also looked irked, and she didn’t waste any time starting in on him, either. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, propping her hands on her hips.

Tom continued disassembling the reel he’d been working on. “Exactly what it looks like, I’m repairing my fishing rod.” It had taken a heck of a beating the last ten days or so, given the way he’d been using it.

Grace strode closer, her high heels clicking across the deck. She held a hand above her eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun. “People are going to start to talk.”

Tom shrugged. Like he gave a damn about that.

When he made no move to defend or explain himself, Grace released a short, aggravated breath, dragged a deck chair over and sat down beside him. She leaned forward. “Do you really want to disillusion our children any more than you already have with this extended vacation of yours?”

If Tom didn’t know better, he would’ve thought she cared about him, given the way she was acting. “Is that what I’m doing?” he asked dryly. He reached down into the toolbox beside him for a pair of pliers.

Grace huffed and spoke between tightly gritted teeth. “If you stay out here on the boat much longer, people will realize you’re not just taking a much-deserved few days off from work.”

Reassuring his ex would have been easy, but Tom decided not to tell Grace he had already determined he would return to work the following day, the Deveraux mansion that very night. After all, it wasn’t her business what he did, just as it wasn’t his business what she did.

Grimacing as the reel refused to cooperate with him, he decided to remind her she was hardly one to talk. “I’m surprised you were able to tear yourself away from your young lover.”

Pink color that had nothing to do with the summer heat and humidity flooded Grace’s cheeks. “I won’t discuss Paulo with you.”

Tom nodded gravely. “And no wonder,” he returned sarcastically, “since being with him makes you a hypocrite.”

Grace’s eyes flashed with anger. “Me?”

Tom dropped both the reel and the pliers into the toolbox and reached into the cooler beside him for a beer. Eyes on Grace, he shook the excess water off the bottle and twisted open the top. “Weren’t you the one who always said that sex was something sacred, only to be embarked upon within the love and sanctity of marriage?”