Diana Palmer - Carrera's Bride

“But, why?” Delia asked, appalled. Nobody had ever told her that.

Barb gave Barney a warning glance. “Mother was jealous of Barney because he took me away from her,” she said. “They never got along, you know that.”

“Yes,” Delia admitted, “but that doesn’t explain why she didn’t want me to go to New York.”

Barney turned away, looking uncomfortable. “She thought you might like it there and want to stay.”

“She didn’t want to lose you, baby,” Barb said, but she didn’t sound very comfortable herself.

“But she never liked me,” Delia exclaimed.

“What?” Barb asked sharply.

Delia had never admitted that to them. She hated doing it now, but perhaps it was time to get it out in the open.

“She didn’t like me,” she confided miserably. “Nothing I did was ever right. She didn’t like my hair long, but she liked it less if I had it cut. She didn’t like the clothes I wore, they were too dowdy. She ridiculed the ones I designed and made myself. She said I was lazy and shiftless and that I’d never amount to anything…”

“Baby, you can’t be serious!” Barb exclaimed, horrified.

“I never understood why,” Delia said heavily, sitting down. “It was almost as if she hated me, but when I asked her if she did, she got all flustered and said of course she didn’t, that it wasn’t my fault that I was the way I was.”

Barb and Barney exchanged curious glances. They not only looked shocked, they looked guilty. Delia wondered why.

“Baby, why didn’t you ever tell me this?” Barb asked gently, her green eyes soft and loving.

Delia grimaced. “It wouldn’t have been right, for me to talk like that about my own mother. And what could you have done, anyway? You and Barney had your own lives.”

“She never said why she made it so hard on you?” Barney asked.

Delia glanced at him and thought, not for the first time, how strange it was that his face and hers were remarkably similar, from the small ears to the rounded chin and the very shape of his eyes. She’d even asked Barb once if he was kin to them, because of the resemblance. But Barb had laughed and said of course not.

Not that she didn’t look like Barb, too, with the same green eyes and blond hair. Their mother had dark hair and blue eyes. But, then, Delia knew that she and Barb were throwbacks to their paternal grandmother, because Delia’s mother had said so.

“I’m sorry,” Barb said, moving to hug her sister close. She’d always been affectionate like that, since Delia’s earliest memories. Barb hugged her coming and going, praised her, teased her, sent her presents on every holiday and birthday and all the time in between. Delia had never wanted for anything, especially not love. In fact, until three years ago, Barney and Barb had lived in San Antonio. They were always around. But when they were, Delia’s mother was on her best behavior. She loved Barb best, and it showed. She was sharp with Delia, though, and Barb had occasionally remarked on it. She didn’t realize how harsh their mother could be, when she wasn’t there.

“Maybe I could come to New York and visit one day,” Delia mentioned.

Barb’s face lit up. “That would be great! We could take you to all the touristy places and you and I could go shopping together!”

Delia smiled. “I’d like that.”

“We still haven’t finished talking about Fred,” Barney interrupted.

“She’s not going out with him again,” Barb said firmly, with an arm around her sister.

“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” Barney said gently. “But I need to have a talk with him about his behavior tonight,” he added, dark eyes flashing. “He had no right to manhandle her!”

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Barb said. “At least you got home safely.”

“Yeah, and Carrera didn’t send Fred home in a shoe-box, either, apparently,” Barney murmured.

“You said Mr. Carrera doesn’t kill people,” Delia reminded him. She couldn’t believe that he did. She didn’t want to believe it.

“He’s calmed down a bit,” Barney replied. He poured himself a drink. “He hasn’t bumped anybody off recently, at least. He’s keeping a low profile. I expect that’s why he’s down here in the Bahamas. Laying low.”

“You look sick, baby,” Barb said worriedly. She sat down beside Delia and patted her knee. “You’ve had a bad night. Why don’t you go to bed and get some sleep?”

“I think I’ll do that,” Delia said.

“Did you actually talk to Carrera?” Barney asked curiously.

Delia nodded, her throat was too tight for speech.

Barney chuckled. “That’s one for the books. He never mingles with the customers. I guess he was afraid you might sue him, if Fred’s lying. He wouldn’t like the publicity.”

“I thought you believed Fred,” Barb said curtly.

He shrugged. “If Carrera got involved, it’s no wonder Fred’s trying to smooth things over. Nobody wants to cross him. Least of all Fred. He’s been working out a business proposition he wants to involve Carrera in. I don’t know what sort, but Fred does have a genius for making money.” He sipped his drink, frowning. “I might try to get in on it myself,” he added with a glance at Barb.

“You stay out of business with Carrera,” Barb said flatly. “I like you alive, warts and all.”

“Did Smith bring you back to the hotel?” Barney asked Delia.

“He and Mr. Carrera did.”

There were shocked stares.

“Fred tore my dress and Mr. Carrera sewed it up for me,” she faltered.

Barney finished the drink in one swallow.

“That’s right, he quilts,” Barb said, brightening. “Delia teaches quilting. You told him, right?”

Delia nodded.

“No wonder he was nice to you,” Barney agreed. “He’s a sucker for a fellow quilter. We heard he gave a guy a week’s paid vacation in one of his hotels for two yards of old cloth.”

“Antique fabric is very valuable,” Delia said softly, “and extremely hard to get.”

“They say he keeps an album of his quilts,” Barney chuckled.

“He does. I saw it. He’s won international competitions,” Delia replied. “His needlework is marvelous.” She showed the mend to Barb, who couldn’t find the stitches.

“That’s really something,” Barb had to admit.

“If he ever shoots me, I’ll ask him to sew me a quilted shroud,” Barney quipped.

Barb stared at him. “Why would he want to shoot you?”

Barney looked uncomfortable. Then he shrugged. “No reason right now. I had thought about suggesting we all take in a show at the casino. We might get special treatment now, what with him sewing up Delia.”

Barb glowered at her husband. “We’re not putting her in his path again. I do not want my baby sister running around with a criminal!”

“He’s not a criminal. Not exactly,” Barney said. “He’s a nice guy as long as you don’t try to steal from him or threaten anybody close to him.”

“I don’t want to find out,” Barb said firmly. She turned to Delia. “You stay away from that man. I don’t care how nicely he sews, either.”

Delia wanted to tell them that Marcus had asked her out the next day, but she didn’t quite have the courage. It was hard to stand up to Barb, who was mature and brimming with authority. Delia had never refused to do anything Barb asked.

But she remembered the hungry kiss she’d shared with Marcus on the windswept balcony, the feel of his arms around her, the warm strength of him in the cool evening. She tingled all over with memory. She wanted to be with him.

The only thing that bothered her was his reputation. What if he really did kill people…?

Barb was studying her expression. “Dee, did you hear me?” she asked. “I said, I don’t want you going around with a gangster.”