Lenora Worth - A Southern Reunion

Cassie smiled, remembering how she used to sit at her mother’s vanity and powder her face with Eugenia’s scented makeup puff. Eugenia would allow Cassie to put on a spot of lipstick, very sheer and pink, then go into her closet and pull out pumps and pearls and a pretty floral scarf. Cassie so wanted to be like her beautiful mother. She wanted to dress in the billowy, flaring dresses her mother adored or wear cute capris and cashmere sweaters with black flats. She wanted to wear her hair curled into a fashionable bob like Eugenia’s. Her mother had always dressed like a 1960s movie star, regardless of the fads or fashions. She’d been so young when she died—not quite forty years old. Marcus Brennan had married a woman fifteen years younger than him. A beautiful Southern belle who captured his heart and ruled over his domain with polite dignity. Cassie had tried all of her life to live up to her mother’s image.

“But I’m not you, am I, Mother?” Cassie asked the face staring back at her from the formal portrait of Eugenia, dressed in creamy silk and satin, that hung on the staircase wall. “I’ll never be you.”

Cassie’s designs reflected her mother’s grace and classic sense of style but she wasn’t sure she could ever capture the true essence of Eugenia Brennan. No one ever had.

Was that why her parents fought so much and yet loved each other so deeply? They’d both always held something back, something that no other human could discover or figure. But in the end, they’d always held fast to each other. Maybe in their most intimate moments, they’d all let their guards down.

Their saving grace.

Perhaps she should try that. Even with Cal all that time ago, Cassie had held back. She’d loved him but she’d never been completely sure of him. When they’d first met, he’d accused her of being a spoiled snob. And he’d been right in some ways.

But so wrong in others.

Her parents had loved each other in a way Cassie always envied. Until that horrible day so long ago.

She shivered then hurried past her mother’s brilliant blue eyes staring down at her, the light from a hall lamp illuminating the huge portrait like a shrine. Making her way to the stove, she switched on the muted overhead light, hoping not to disturb Teresa. She’d make her cup of tea, check on her father and go back upstairs to play with the designs she’d tried to sketch that afternoon. At least she might be able to get some serious work done. Maybe she’d take a look at the website and see how the current spring line was doing. With Easter just a couple of weeks ago, Cassie’s Closet should have a good retail month and a solid first quarter earnings. Not that she was a millionaire by any means, but she was making an honest living.

She’d need to keep doing that if she intended to help Cal and her father salvage this house and this land. But that would mean putting her plans on hold. No second boutique in Buckhead or Roswell and certainly no long-term plans to open one in New York, either. She’d have to put a tight rein on everything. And pray her anchor store held on and continued to thrive.

She grabbed the teakettle off the stove just as it started gurgling then poured the hot water over the tea bag in her cup. She’d always hated a whistling teakettle and she didn’t want to disturb anyone else. Settling onto a stool near the long counter, Cassie let the memories pour through her with each sip of the soothing tea.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.