Hidden Talents (15 page)

“This is a small town, after all, with small-town values,” Serenity said in a lecturing tone. “Your grandfather has lived here all his life. You were raised here. Everyone knows you. It doesn't take a sociologist to figure out that some things never change in small towns.”

“If you're so committed to honoring small-town conventions,” Caleb said, “why did you come to my room tonight?”

She blushed furiously. “I came down here because I absolutely had to talk to you. I needed to have your word that you weren't using me somehow.”

“Serenity—”

“But now that we've had this little chat and I know that you're not playing some weird game with your family, I really have to get back to my room.”

“Serenity…” Caleb repeated patiently.

“What?” Clutching the lapels of her robe with one hand, she stealthily opened the French doors and peered out into the darkness. It was obvious that she didn't want to be spotted scurrying back to her room.

“I just thought you'd like to know that there haven't been many.”

“Many what?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Women. And I have always been extremely discreet.”

She grinned. “I know. That's one of the things I like about you, Caleb. You've got high standards in everything.”

“I'm not the only one,” he said. “Am I?”

“Nope. I've got my standards, too.” She stepped outside into the cold darkness and closed the door very softly.

Caleb walked over to the French doors, opened them soundlessly and watched as Serenity hurried along the veranda to the door of her own room. When she vanished safely inside, he closed his own door again and leaned back against it with a low groan of deeply felt regret.

He considered the condition of his heavily aroused body and decided that he was going to have a very hard time getting to sleep. This was getting to be an unfortunate habit. One of these days he was going to have to get this crazy relationship on track.

He gazed at the bureau where he had hidden Crystal Brooke's plastic jewelry case. Then he crossed the room to open the drawer. He stood looking down at the tacky little box for a long time. Serenity's words echoed in his head.
I imagine it meant a lot to her, and it must mean a lot to you because it's something that belonged to her
.

Serenity was wrong, he thought. The jewelry case meant nothing to him. One of these days he would throw it out.

Caleb hooked one booted foot on the bottom rail of the paddock fence, rested his arms on the top and surveyed the spectacular gray stallion with a horseman's sense of satisfaction.

He had been raised to know good horseflesh when he saw it, and there was no doubt but that the Arab was a prize. Windsailer was one of the finest studs Roland Ventress had ever owned. The stallion was descended from Windstar, and it showed. There was primitive equine intelligence in the large dark eyes, and grace in every sculpted line of a body that had been bred for endurance and power.

“He's looking good, isn't he?” Roland asked as he walked up to stand beside Caleb.

“Very impressive.” Caleb watched Windsailer munch hay.

“Every crop of his foals breeds true,” Roland said. “They've all got his looks and his stamina. You can see Windstar in all of them. Blood tells.”

“So you've always said.”

Roland leaned against the top bar of the paddock fence. “This one's different from the others.”

“This season's foals, you mean?”

“I'm not talking about horses,” Roland said. “I'm talking about Serenity Makepeace.”

Caleb smiled to himself. “Yes, she's different.”

“You any more serious about her than you were about the last one?”

“Serious?”

“Goddammit, don't play games with me, boy.” Roland narrowed his eyes. “You know what I'm talking about. Are you going to marry this one or not?”

“I'll let you know when I decide,” Caleb said politely.

“It's past time you settled down and started a family. Hell, I had a twelve-year-old son when I was your age.”

“I'm aware of that, sir.”

“Damn, talking to you these days is like talking to a stone wall. Each time I see you it gets worse.”

“What do you want me to say?” Caleb asked.

“You know what I want you to say.” Roland gripped the paddock rail. “I want to hear you tell me that you're going to marry a good woman and start making babies. I'm not going to be around forever. Before I go to my grave, I want to know that there's going to be another generation of Ventresses.”

“My cousins are having babies right and left. There were plenty of Ventresses at your birthday party yesterday.”

“It's not the same thing and you damn well know it.” Roland seethed with frustration. “I should never have let you set up Ventress Ventures. I should have insisted you come back here to Ventress Valley. Everything started going wrong after you went into business for yourself.”

Caleb shrugged. They both knew that Roland had had nothing to say about the establishment of Ventress Ventures. Caleb had made the decision to go into business for himself long before he had even graduated from college. He had known he was never going to live in Ventress Valley.

Ventress Ventures was one of the few things that belonged entirely to him. He ran the business his way and was accountable to no one but himself.

“What do you mean, everything started going wrong?” Caleb asked.

“It was as if you started drifting away from me after that.” Roland grimaced, anger and frustration plain in his weathered features. “Hell, I don't know how to explain it. When I look back on it, I realize it started even before you created Ventress Ventures. It started the day you left for college, didn't it?”

“I don't understand what you're talking about,” Caleb said. “Are you telling me that I've neglected my responsibilities to the family?”

“No, damn it. You still go through all the right moves, but it's as if you're just pulling strings and pushing buttons these days.”

“That's not very specific,” Caleb said dryly. “Maybe you'd better clarify things for me. Any complaints about how I've handled the family's investments?”

“Hell, no.” Roland shot him a glowering look. “The family's financial picture has never looked better and you know it. The Ventresses have more money today than they've ever had.”

“I'm surprised to hear you admit that.”

“Why should you be surprised? You did what I expected you to do. It's not just the family that's done all right since you started managing our investments. This whole valley has gotten more prosperous because of the new businesses you've helped get off the ground.”

“Then what, exactly, are you complaining about?”

“Don't you get it?” Roland waved a hand to encompass the house and stables. “What's the point of having all this if I can't be certain there'll be another generation of Ventresses? I lost my son because of that slut who stole him away from his people, seduced him into giving up his responsibilities. All I've got left is you.”

Caleb looked at his watch. “Dolores will be expecting us for breakfast.”

“Breakfast can damn well wait,” Roland muttered.

“Something's been bothering me for quite a while, and I think maybe it's time to lay my cards on the table. I got a question to ask you and I want an honest answer. I raised you to be truthful, and to the best of my knowledge, you've never lied to me. Don't start now.”

“What's the question?”

“You and I both know that you're the only one who can undo the damage that bitch did all those years ago,” Roland said. “You're the only one who can carry my bloodlines on into the future. The question is, are you going to do it?”

“Don't call her a bitch.”

Roland looked blank. “What the devil are you talking about?”

Caleb's grip on the paddock rail was so fierce he was surprised that the wood didn't splinter, but he managed to keep his voice very even. For some reason, he recalled the look of wonder on Serenity's face last night when she had examined the jewelry box.

“I said, don't call her a bitch,” Caleb repeated quietly. “For better or worse, Crystal Brooke was my mother.”

Roland was dumbfounded. “What's this all about? Have you taken leave of your senses? You know what she was. I've told you often enough.”

“Yes, you have. And you may be right. But I'm her son and I don't want anyone to call her bitch or slut or whore again.”

“Have you gone crazy, boy? What's got into you?”

“Who knows?” Caleb said. “Maybe the bad blood is finally starting to show in me. Excuse me, sir. I'm going to get some breakfast. Got a long drive back to my new consulting project today.”

He started walking toward the house.

“Don't you dare turn your back on me, Caleb Ventress,” Roland shouted. “I'm the man who took you in and raised you. I gave you a home. Put a roof over your head. Taught you the things a man needs to know. You'll show me some respect, by God.”

Caleb stopped. He turned around slowly and looked at the man he had wasted most of his youth trying to please. “Yes, sir.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you have my respect, sir. You will always have that.”

Roland's eyes glittered with frustrated fury. He had demanded an acknowledgment of the respect Caleb owed him, and Caleb had given it to him. It wasn't enough and they both knew it.

There had once been more, Caleb realized. Sometimes he got the uneasy feeling there still was. But Roland had never shown any signs of wanting love from him, and whatever warmth there had been between them had simply withered away.

“Then answer my question,” Roland said. “Are you going to give me grandchildren to guarantee a future for this family or not?”

“Haven't I always given you everything you've ever wanted?” Caleb asked softly. “Haven't I always done everything you've ever asked me to do?”

“Then why don't you get on with it,” Roland exploded.

“First, I've got to find a woman who will overlook my bad bloodlines.”

Serenity stopped in front of the large, glass-fronted display cabinet that stood in the breakfast room. She surveyed the contents with interest. Row after row of gleaming trophies, blue ribbons, merit badges, and plaques lined each shelf. Several were for horsemanship. Some were for Scouting activities. A few honored marksmanship skills. Others were for various academic achievements.

“Good heavens, Dolores, did Caleb actually win all of these?”

“Sure did.”

“Amazing.” Serenity studied a gleaming trophy at the end of one row. It commemorated the winning of a championship baseball game. Caleb had apparently been the pitcher.

Dolores set glass bowls containing grapefruit at each place on the table. “That boy used to bring home honors and awards and trophies like you wouldn't believe. If he went after something, none of the other kids stood much of a chance.”

“I didn't realize Caleb was so competitive.”

“If you ask me, he isn't. He prefers to do his own thing, like they used to say. My mother, who worked in this house for thirty years, said she never once saw him take any joy in the winning.”

“He certainly did a lot of it. Winning, I mean.”

“That's a fact.”

“I wonder why he doesn't keep some of these trophies in his office in Seattle?”

“Why would he?” Dolores put down the last of the bowls full of grapefruit. “Everyone knows Caleb didn't win those awards for himself. He won them for his grandfather. Reckon he figured it was only fitting they be kept here in his grandfather's house.”

“I think I'm starting to get the picture. Poor Caleb.”

Dolores gave her a sharp, knowing look. “You can say that again. My mother swore there were times she wanted to just weep when Caleb came home with a prize. He never bragged, she said, like boys do. Never talked about it. Never seemed excited. He'd just hand the trophy over to his grandfather and go on to the next goal Mr. Ventress set for him.”

“What did his grandfather say when Caleb handed over his awards?” Serenity asked softly.

“When Caleb won, Mr. Ventress made it real clear that the boy was only doing what was expected of him. But lord help the poor lad the few times he didn't take first place.” Dolores shook her head. “My mother said she took it upon herself to tell Mr. Ventress that she thought he was riding the boy too hard, but he always told her to mind her own business. Said he wasn't going to make the same mistakes he'd made last time.”

Serenity whirled around. “Last time?”

“Expect he meant the mistakes he figured he'd made with his son Gordon,” Dolores said quietly. “Sometimes it's harder to forgive yourself than it is someone else. And God knows Ventresses can be as stubborn as mules.”

“What mistakes?”

Dolores hesitated. “You'll have to ask Caleb about that. I've already said too much as it is. If you do decide to ask questions, do me a favor.”

“What's that?”

“Don't let on I put them in your head.”

W
HAT DO YOU THINK OF
A
RIADNE'S MARMALADE
, M
R
. Ventress?” Serenity asked.

Roland looked at her from the far end of the painfully quiet table. Unlike yesterday's formal celebration, today's gathering was a small one. Only Caleb's aunt, Phyllis, and his uncle, Franklin, had been invited to breakfast this morning. They had done their best to keep the conversation going, but the unrelenting silence between Caleb and his grandfather effectively stifled everyone's best efforts.

“Not bad.” Roland took another bite out of the slice of toast he had slathered with the marmalade. “Reminds me of the kind my mother used to make. Good and tart. Not too sweet. Seems like most things these days are too sweet for my taste.”

“Isn't that the truth,” Phyllis said with a brittle smile. “Take modern breakfast cereals. Most are so sugary, they taste like candy.”

Serenity caught Caleb's eye. “That gives me a marketing idea. We'll advertise Ariadne's jams and marmalades as gourmet-style preserves. We'll say they've been especially created for people with sophisticated tastes. What do you think?”

“It has potential.” Caleb's tone held all the enthusiasm of a ship's captain for an iceberg. He picked up his coffee cup and took a swallow. “Are you packed and ready to leave?”

“Yes.” So much for trying to get that topic off the ground, Serenity thought. She tried another tactic. “Mr. Ventress, I couldn't help but notice those awards behind you in that glass case.”

“Caleb won those,” Roland said.

“Yes, I know. I saw his name on all the plaques. You must be very proud of him.”

Roland scowled. “Caleb knows what's expected of him. Always did.”

“I see he was even valedictorian,” Serenity continued with determined good cheer. “I was valedictorian of my high school graduation class, too. I also got voted the student most likely to succeed.”

Caleb choked slightly on his coffee. He set his cup down quickly.

Serenity frowned in concern. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine.” He got to his feet. “I want to be on the way as soon as possible, Serenity.”

She looked up, surprised. “But I thought you were going to give me a tour of the stables. I wanted to look at the horses.”

“Some other time. It's a long drive, and the weather report said there might be snow in the mountains this evening.”

“Nonsense. It's too early for snow.”

Caleb looked at her with hooded eyes. “I'd just as soon not have to stop to put on chains if I can avoid it.”

Serenity stifled a small sigh. “I can be ready in five minutes.”

“I'll get the luggage.” Caleb moved around the long table.

“Need any help?” Franklin asked. “Harry's out back. He can give you a hand.”

“I can handle it.” Caleb walked toward the door.

Serenity smiled at Roland, whose jaw appeared to have been cast in iron. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Mr. Ventress. I've certainly enjoyed my stay.”

“Thank you for your gift,” Roland said. His eyes were on Caleb's back. “I hope you'll be able to visit again sometime.”

“I'd like that.” Serenity had a sudden thought. “Caleb, don't forget your mother's jewelry case. I think I saw you put it in one of the bureau drawers last night.”

The atmosphere in the breakfast room, tense but subdued until now, suddenly took on the aura of impending disaster. Dolores froze, tray in hand, in the kitchen doorway. Phyllis's eyes widened in appalled shock. Franklin looked grimmer than ever. Roland did not move.

It dawned on Serenity that she had just opened her mouth and inserted her foot. That was the problem out here in the outside world, she thought, chagrined. It was too darn easy for someone like her to screw up. She gave Caleb an apologetic look and wondered how to get back out of the hole she had just dug for both of them.

She was grateful to see that Caleb did not appear at all embarrassed by her social gaffe. There was no sign of any emotion on his face. He halted in the doorway and gave her a thoughtful glance. “Thank you for reminding me. I won't forget to pack it.”

Phyllis and Franklin exchanged ominous glances.

Roland had a death grip on his butter knife. “Didn't know you still had that old jewelry case. You've never mentioned it. Thought you must have gotten rid of it years ago.”

“Good grief, why would Caleb want to do that?” Serenity asked. The damage had been done, she thought. There was no point pretending that she hadn't seen the jewelry box. “He told me it belonged to his mother. It obviously means a great deal to him. He couldn't possibly just throw it away.”

Phyllis was the first to recover. “Yes, of course. It's just that we never think of Caleb as the sentimental type. Do we, Franklin?”

“No,” Franklin muttered. “We don't.”

“That surprises me,” Serenity said, relieved that the conversation was beginning to flow normally again. “I realized that Caleb was a very sensitive person the day I met him. I have good instincts for things like that, you know.”

“Is that so?” Franklin asked.

“Sure.” Serenity chuckled. “It wasn't hard to figure out that deep down Caleb was the caring, sensitive type. How many successful hotshot business consultants would sign on to save a little town like Witt's End? Especially when there's absolutely no guarantee he'll ever see a dime out of the project?”

Everyone stared at her.

“We'll be leaving now,” Caleb said from the doorway. Without another word, he walked out of the room.

Precisely fifteen minutes later Caleb turned the key in the Jaguar's ignition. The powerful engine purred to life. Serenity waved to the small group of people on the steps as Caleb drove toward the road. Roland, Phyllis, Franklin, and Dolores lifted their hands in polite, restrained farewells.

Serenity sat back in her seat. “Sorry about that faux pas earlier. I don't know what made me mention your mother's jewelry box in front of the others.”

“Forget it.”

“I can't believe I did that. I was so careful to make certain that I wasn't seen going to your room last night. I even gave you that big lecture about not offending your grandfather's sense of propriety, remember?”

“I remember.”

“Then I go and do something dumb at the breakfast table like blithely reminding you to pack the jewelry case.”

“So?”

“So, it's obvious I ruined the good impression I was trying to create.” Serenity glowered at him, exasperated. “Now your grandfather and everyone else in the house probably thinks I spent the night with you.”

Caleb slid her a brief, unreadable glance. “Is that why you're fretting about it? You think everyone at the table nearly dropped their teeth this morning just because you'd hinted that you'd been in my bedroom?”

“I pride myself on being able to live in two worlds when necessary, but the truth is, I'm not really very good at it. If I spend too long in your world, I invariably mess up.” Serenity morosely surveyed her attire. She was wearing the cuffed trousers she'd arrived in yesterday, together with a shirt and a pullover sweater that she had selected from the same catalog. She was fairly certain that she was appropriately dressed, but clothes did not always make the woman. No one knew that better than she did.

“You didn't mess up,” Caleb said quietly. “At least, not in the way that you think you did.”

Serenity smiled hopefully. “You don't think your grandfather was seriously offended by the notion that we might have spent the night together while under his roof?”

“I doubt that he even considered that angle. Not after you mentioned the jewelry case.”

“What do you mean? It's bound to be the first thing that popped into his mind. His and everyone else's in the room.” Serenity rolled her eyes. “You saw the way they all reacted.”

“The jewelry case is in that small carryall on the backseat. Unzip the bag and take it out.”

“All right, but why?” Serenity unbuckled her seat belt, scrambled to her knees and leaned over the back of the seat. She reached for the carryall.

“I want you to see for yourself why everyone got a little tense when you mentioned it.”

Serenity heard the deadly neutral tone in his voice and knew that she had unwittingly ventured again into treacherous terrain. Her hand stilled on the zipper of the carryall. “Caleb, if this is something private that you'd rather not discuss, I certainly understand.”

“Get out the jewelry case.”

She groaned and finished unzipping the bag. The blue and gold jewelry box was sitting on top of a carefully folded gray sweater. Serenity cautiously lifted it out and closed the carryall.

“What do you want me to do with it?” she asked.

“Open it.”

Serenity examined the case. “I'm not sure I should. I get the feeling this doesn't involve me.”

“You're wrong,” Caleb said quietly. “From now on, it involves you. Open the box and take a look inside.”

Serenity's fingers started to tremble. The innocent-looking blue plastic jewelry box suddenly felt like a grenade in her hand. “There's a key to wind up the music box.”

“Wind it up if you like.”

Serenity did so. When she was finished, she slowly unlatched the clasp and raised the lid. The music started to play.

“A waltz,” Serenity whispered.

“What did you say?”

“It plays a waltz.” She gazed, fascinated, at the two tiny plastic figures, a man and a woman, that had sprung upright and begun a jerky, clockwork dance.

“Never mind that, take a look at what's inside the compartment.”

The compartment of the case was lined with cheap blue velvet. There was a long tear in the satin behind the small mirror on the inside of the lid.

There was no jewelry inside the case. Instead it was filled with old, yellowed newspaper clippings. They looked so fragile that Serenity was afraid to touch them.

“What are these?” she asked.

“My past.” Caleb did not look at the open jewelry case. He kept his eyes riveted to the road. “My grandfather gave that case full of clippings to me the day I turned eighteen. He wanted to make certain I didn't forget my mother.”

“That was very thoughtful of him.”

Caleb's mouth twisted. “It certainly was.”

Serenity carefully unfolded the first of the folded clippings and studied the grainy black-and-white photograph. “This woman was your mother?”

“Yes.”

The picture showed a striking platinum blonde dressed in a short, skintight, sequined gown. The dress had a neckline that plunged straight to the navel. The extreme style revealed only the inside curves of her breasts, but it created a sensual illusion that the camera obviously loved. There was a good-natured, provocative quality in the woman's lovely eyes. It was as if she knew men found her sexy and the fact amused her. Beneath the heavy makeup that darkened the full lips and enlarged the eyes it was easy to see the fine bone structure and the glow of youth.

“Caleb, she was lovely,” Serenity breathed. “And so glamorous. I think you've got her eyes.”

“So I'm told.”

Serenity studied the photo with deepening admiration. “Was she a model?”

“Read the articles.”

Serenity scanned the headlines on the clippings, most of which were from the
Ventress Valley News
.
VENTRESS HIT WITH BLACKMAIL THREAT. VENTRESS ADMITS AFFAIR WITH PORN MODEL
. She picked up another article.
CENTERFOLD PIN-UP CLAIMS VENTRESS IS FATHER OF HER CHILD. VENTRESS FILES FOR DIVORCE
.

“Keep reading,” Caleb said quietly. “It's all there. The blackmail scheme, the affair, the divorce, the accident, everything.”

Serenity started to read more quickly, taking in the whole sad tale in one gulp. She paused over the article that related the blackmail scheme. Her stomach tightened. “Someone tried to blackmail your grandfather?”

“The blackmailer sent photos of Crystal Brooke to him. The photos included shots of her posing nude. There were also several pictures of her and my father making love on a beach in Santa Barbara.”

“Dear God.”

“My grandfather refused to pay the blackmail. The blackmailer sent the pictures to the
Ventress Valley News
. The editor and my grandfather had been quarreling for years. The pictures got published, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Oh, Caleb, how awful for everyone involved.” Serenity stopped reading and carefully refolded the clippings. “No wonder you went bananas when I told you that someone was trying to blackmail me with nude pictures. It was like having your parents' past thrown in your face, wasn't it?”

Caleb slanted her a disgusted look. “I didn't go bananas.”

“Yes, you did. Now I know why.”

“Damn it, Serenity.”

“You're starting to lose your temper,” she pointed out. “But I think I prefer that to your zombie mode.”

“‘Zombie mode.’ What the hell is my zombie mode?”

“It's when you go all cold and expressionless. You're very good at hiding your emotions, aren't you? You must have had a lot of practice.”

“I am not an emotional sort of man.” Caleb spaced each word very carefully and distinctly.

Serenity gently closed the jewelry box. The waltz stopped. “You don't think your reaction was a highly emotional one?”

“Let's just say the news that there were nude photos of you took me by surprise.”

Serenity smiled ruefully. “I'll just bet it did. I'm sorry, Caleb. I shouldn't have called you all those nasty things.”

“You mean straitlaced, conventional, arrogant, and inflexible?” Caleb's brows rose slightly. “Don't worry, I've forgotten all about it.”

“The same way that I've forgotten that you called me naive and gullible.” Serenity traced a line of faded gilt on top of the jewelry case with her fingertip. “I wonder why your grandfather gave you these clippings. He doesn't strike me as a cruel man. Hard and inflexible, perhaps, just like you in some ways, but not cruel.”

Caleb smiled without any humor. “I doubt that he considered it a cruel act. He just wanted to make certain I never forgot that there was bad blood in me. He believed it was his duty to remind me that I had to guard against the effects of my mother's genetic influence. He breeds horses, remember? He's a great believer in the power of genes.”