Christine Rimmer - Wife Wanted

Natalie asked carefully, “Mom, what can you do about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you going over to see Dad? Is that it?”

“No. I can’t do that. You know I can’t. Jake and I are hardly speaking.”

“Well, then, maybe it’s a mistake to get all worked up.”

Erica shook her head. “I can’t help myself. I’ve been furious with your father for a long time now. But lately, I… Nat, a woman can’t just forget all about a man she’s spent thirty years of her life with.”

Natalie knew what was really bothering her mother: Erica still loved Jake. And Jake still loved her. Natalie wished they would work through their differences and reunite. But she was not going to get sucked into the family drama this time around. She had spent too many years playing confessor, comforter and caregiver to her family—as well as to the men in her life. And now she was bound and determined to make things different for herself.

“Nat…”

“What?”

“You know, if anyone could get through to your father, it would be you. You’re so reasonable and level-headed, and you always know just what to say to get people to open up to you.”

Natalie looked straight into her mother’s gorgeous green eyes. “Mom, we have talked about this. I won’t play go-between. Not anymore. And that’s that.”

Erica was quiet. Somewhere in the trees beside the house, a bird trilled out a few bars of song. Then Erica nodded. “Of course. You’re right. I know you are.”

In spite of her determination not to play the role of rescuer, Natalie ached for her mother. Within Erica there had always been a deep vein of dissatisfaction, of restlessness, though the world saw only a beautiful mask of cool ice-princess control. Lately, since Erica and Jake had separated, the veneer of cool control seemed to be cracking around the edges, while the fitful unhappiness was more and more obvious.

Natalie tucked the paper under one arm and put the other around her mother’s proud, model-straight shoulders. “Come on inside. I have some iced tea already brewed.”

Her mother perked up a little. “You’re a lifesaver, Nat. If we could just sit and talk for a while, I know I’ll feel better.”

“And that’s just what we’ll do. Come on.”

But Erica had stepped outside her own misery enough to notice what Natalie was wearing. She stood back. “What in the world have you been up to?”

“Dress-up.” Natalie was glad for the chance to lighten the mood. She turned in a circle, vamping. “Do I look fabulous, or what?”

Erica groaned. “Or what.”

Natalie shimmied her shoulders and shook her behind. “You’re just jealous, that’s all. You cool, understated types never get to wear the bangles and beads.”

Erica tipped her blond head to the side. “You know, fifty years ago, it would have been showstopping.”

“Fifty years ago, I’m sure it was.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I found a trunk in the attic.”

Erica laughed, then considered. “That dress was not Kate’s. It’s too flashy for Kate.”

“I thought the same thing. But who knows? Whoever it belonged to, it was in the trunk, and I couldn’t resist trying it on.”

Both women grinned, then grew somber. And then, as so rarely happened now, Natalie was the child again, looking to her mother for comfort.

“I miss her, Mom.”

And Erica was the one putting a consoling arm around her daughter. “We all do, honey.”

Natalie leaned into her mother’s embrace. “It’s as if the world is spiraling out of control, since we lost her.”

“I know. Oh, I know.”

“I can’t help feeling that if she were here, everything would be all right. She’d get right to the bottom of this…problem with Dad. And she’d take care of that awful Monica Malone. And she’d know right away if Tracey Ducet was the phony we all thinks she is.” Tracey, who was the image of Natalie’s aunt Lindsay, had recently surfaced claiming to be Lindsay’s lost twin— and thus the heir to a huge chunk of Fortune assets. Sterling Foster, the Fortune family’s longtime attorney, had been investigating her claim, privately saying it was false, but unable to prove anything, since the FBI records seemed to have been lost somehow.

“But Kate is not here,” Erica said sadly. “And we must accept that.”

Natalie leaned even closer to her mother. At the same time, she felt for the chain around her own neck, and the rosebud charm at the end of it. The rosebud was a talisman from her grandmother; Kate had left a different charm to each of her children and grandchildren. “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Sometimes I feel that she is here. Do you know what I mean? That she’s watching over us. That she’ll never let real harm come to any of us.”

“Oh, Nat,” Erica murmured tenderly, “you always were the most sentimental of all my babies.”

“Okay, so it’s corny. But still, it’s how I feel.”

Erica made a sound of understanding and stroked Natalie’s hair.

Then Natalie stepped back. “Now come on.” She took her mother’s hand. “Let’s go in. I could use a little iced tea myself.”

Hand in hand, mother and daughter walked up the white-pebbled walk between the rose trees to the house.

Neither of them noticed that Bernie didn’t follow. The big dog had wandered down to the boat dock behind the house.

And during the whole time Natalie and her mother were sharing iced tea and sympathy at the breakfast table, Bernie sat at the end of the dock, staring longingly out over the water to where a blue-and-white patio boat floated lazily on the slow currents of the lake.

“This is pure foolishness, Kate. And you know it.” Sterling Foster rose from the pilot’s chair of the patio boat and went to stand in the bright sun at the bow.

Kate watched him. He was a handsome man, tall and still trim, even in his mid-sixties, his shoulders straight and square. His hair was thick and white as snow. Kate had always liked him and admired him. In the past eighteen months, since the plane crash, she supposed it had gone beyond mere liking. But she stopped there. Her whole life was on hold until this crisis was solved. She had never planned to stay “dead” for this long, but she couldn’t figure out how to come back without destroying all that she had accomplished—and all she had yet to do.

Kate’s best friend wasn’t pleased with her now, though. He turned and focused penetrating blue eyes on her. “You’re a very distinctive-looking woman.”

“Why, thank you, Sterling.”

He glared at her. “Dark glasses and a big hat aren’t going to hide you from someone who knows you.”

Smiling a little, Kate glanced down at herself. She wore a teal-blue silk tunic and trousers to match, a wide straw hat tied with a scarf, and large dark glasses, which were intended to camouflage her face. “Don’t be testy, Sterling.”

He let out a low grunt of disgust. “I’m not testy. I’m realistic. You lived at the estate for years. Most of the people in Travistown knew you personally. Anyone floating by on another boat might recognize you.”

Kate gave him a small shrug of her shoulders and looked away, out toward the farmhouse where, years and years ago, she and Ben had been happy. Her sweet, bighearted Bernie was there, sitting so patiently on the end of the dock. The dog had been waiting in the same spot for nearly an hour now. Kate’s heart went out to him. He would have to wait a while longer before he would see his old mistress again.

Kate wondered how Natalie was doing. Since her “death,” more than one of Kate’s loved ones had stumbled upon love and fulfillment. The truth was, Kate had been taking a secret pleasure in a little matchmaking—from beyond the grave, as it were.