Sarah's Baby (17 page)

Then the crowd parted as Ruth McQueen materialized, rather heavily made-up, her dark hair—she continued to have it colored its original sable—drawn back. For a woman her age she looked remarkably glamorous, her slight, imperious figure encased in a silver-brocade sheath. She wore pearls with a magnificent heart-shaped diamond around her neck. Pearls at her ears. Such was her aura that, like her grandson, she quite naturally stood out from the crowd, and this crowd was dressed in its finest. Invitations to Wunnamurra had become increasingly rare. They all wished to look as worthy of the honor as possible.

“Ah, Kyall, you've arrived,” said Ruth, her eyes on her beloved grandson's face.

“You look incredible, Gran.” Kyall bent his head to kiss her.

“And Sarah. I'm so glad you could come.” Unblinking black gaze. No trace of a smile. As if a smile would have killed her.

Ruth didn't wait for Sarah's response but turned her head. “Do come and join us. We must find the guest of honor. I was fascinated to see him arrive with Harriet Crompton.”

“Then he'll be sure to enjoy himself.” Kyall gave his grandmother a glinting smile.

“The house looks wonderful,” Sarah remarked, watching Ruth incline her head coldly.

“Let me show you around.” Kyall took hold of Sarah's arm, glancing in his grandmother's direction.

“Surely that can wait until later?” Ruth stalked off, not waiting for a response.

“Nothing like a family party,” Kyall murmured. “Well, I think we're over the worst of it.”

“There are only two kinds of people,” Sarah said, smiling. “Optimists and pessimists. You're the former.”

“So tell me, how did you get to be the latter?” he countered, tightening his hold on her arm. “This is going to be a great night.”

“Absolutely.” Quietly Sarah crossed her fingers.

Kyall's mother, Enid, and his father, Max, both looking very handsome, were sitting with the Claydons. Golden-haired, blue-eyed Mitch, who put everyone in mind of Robert Redford in his youth, lifted a hand in salute, flashing his engaging smile.

“I've always been fond of Mitch. I'll bet he would've liked you for a brother-in-law,” Sarah added dryly.

“Mitch knew that wasn't on.”

“Did you discuss it?”

“Didn't have to,” Kyall answered in a laconic tone. “Mitch always knew how I felt about you. Don't forget we
virtually grew up together, although Mitch is a few years younger.”

“And there's India smiling brightly.” Sarah felt a sharp stab of pity. “This can't be a good moment for her. I hate hurting anyone.”

“I do, too.” Kyall's response was a bit terse. “India and I enjoyed a friendship, but I never led her to believe that marriage would be the outcome.”

“Then why has she waited all these years?”

“God, I don't know. Am I supposed to feel guilty?'

“I feel guilty all the time.”

“So you should. You went off and left me. The question is why.”

Sarah sidestepped the answer. She had enough to contend with this evening. “Hush, we're nearly there.”

Enid broke off her conversation with Julanne Claydon to greet them, using all the charm she could muster. “Sarah, my dear, you look absolutely beautiful!” she said. “Those earrings are fabulous.”

“Thank you.” It wasn't the time to say, “They're a present from Kyall. And that's not all!”

Julanne Claydon smiled coolly, but managed a few words of welcome. “Good to see you again, Sarah.”

“Yes,” India tacked on, her eyes sparkling as though she was on the verge of tears. She looked very attractive in a short, sequined dress that showed off her long, tanned legs, staring at Kyall with a mixture of pleasure and disillusionment. The men—Kyall's father, Max, and Brad and Mitchell Claydon—made up for any shortcomings, visibly delighted to see Sarah and Kyall together. First Max and then Brad Claydon, the multimillionaire cattleman who, strangely enough, wore a rumpled shirt, took Sarah's hand, smiling at her with warm, paternal eyes. Mitch planted a
feathery kiss on her cheek. “It's great to have you back with us, Sarah,” he said.

“It's great to be back.” For a moment she actually meant it. Would have meant it only for…only for… She knew in her bones that things were not over.

After a few minutes they moved on to find Morris and Harriet, who were holding court at the far end of the resplendent cream-and-gold drawing room, adorned with masses of beautiful flower arrangements that must have been flown in. The fragrance was all around them. Obviously they were having a good time. Both were in animated conversation with a group of guests that included the big impressive man Sarah had once spotted driving through town. Evan Someone. She would be pleased to meet him. The town's mystery man.

As soon as Harriet spotted them, she held up a hand and waved enthusiastically. Harriet, in her own inimitable way, looked every bit as eye-catching as Ruth. She wore a long, black dress, over which she'd thrown a gorgeous hand-painted-silk Chinese jacket in vibrant imperial yellow with darting turquoise birds and sprays of peonies in deepest pink with leaves of jade. As if that wasn't enough, on her head she wore a most unusual little headdress, oriental in flavor. Something the last Chinese empress might have popped on of an evening.

“It's just not fair!” Sarah burst out affectionately. “Harriet always steals the show.”

“What I love about her is that she makes me laugh. What
is
that getup?” Kyall asked in an amused undertone. “I just hope it doesn't reek of mothballs like the last time.”

“Well, we know one thing for sure. Morris is very taken with her.”

“And she with him. They should get married or move
in together. Harriet looks ten years younger since I last saw her.”

Sarah murmured her agreement.

“The big man is Evan Thompson, by the way. I'm glad he decided to come. He strikes me as tremendously lonely, as opposed to simply being a loner, which he undoubtedly is. You might be able to draw him out.”

“He doesn't look like a man content to answer questions,” Sarah answered, glancing toward the group.

It took time to move through the beaming crowd, stopping here and there, but when they were a few feet away, Harriet swooped. “You look wonderful, both of you. Love the dress, Sarah.”

“I like your outfit more.” Sarah smiled.

“I'll leave it to you in my will.” Harriet grasped her arm. “We're having such a good time. It's such a nice evening.”

“Going well, is it?” Kyall asked, an indulgent expression on his face.

“Morris has practically persuaded me to marry him,” Harriet said, shocking them. “Only joking,” she crowed as Sarah and Kyall visibly reacted. “Come on. We've been waiting for you. You must meet Evan, Sarah. He's an extremely gifted and intelligent man.”

And so it turned out. Sarah went back a long way with nearly all the people who'd been invited, but Evan Thompson was a newcomer. They didn't exactly chat away; he wasn't that kind of man. But he was charming in a Mr. Rochester kind of way, dark, sculpted head inclined to one side, paying keen attention to everything she said. No wonder every single woman in town had done her level best to get acquainted with him. There was something very intriguing about him. A hint of danger.

Across the crowded room, India Claydon remarked
waspishly, “How nice for Sarah! She's actually got Evan Thompson to talk.”

“Where?” Julanne Claydon asked, her face contorting with the effort to spot him. Sarah Dempsey wasn't exactly Julanne's favorite person right now. For a long time she'd thought India had a good chance with Kyall. Now Sarah was back.

“Over there, look. She's with Miss Crompton and the new doctor. And Kyall, of course. God, how I hate her!” Though she whispered, the words came out almost violently.

Julanne was shocked. “That's not very nice, India. You shouldn't hate anyone.”

“Mrs. McQueen promised me Kyall was mine,” India muttered.

“What?” Julanne asked incredulously. She'd never heard this before.

India flushed. “Mum, can you please stop the
where
s and
what
s? And keep your voice down, okay? You know perfectly well that Mrs. McQueen—”

“You're talking about Ruth?” Julanne grabbed hold of her daughter's arm, making her turn around.

“Of course, Ruth!” India's bright blue eyes glinted like glass. She picked her mother's fingers off her arm one by one. “She told me I'm perfect for Kyall.”

“She's a cruel bitch!” Julanne erupted, her maternal hopes falling meteorically.

“Really, Mum.” Now it was India's turn to chastise.

Julanne focused on her daughter. “You mean it's thanks to
Ruth
you thought you had a chance with Kyall? You told me—”

“I don't care what I told you!” India said rudely, causing her mother to glare at her.

“Please behave, India, or we might as well go home. I brought you up to be a lady. Ladies don't make scenes.”

“Too bad, because that's just what I want to do.”

“Then I'll get your father,” Julanne warned.

“God, he and Mitch acted like seeing Sarah again was the high point of their lives. Don't they realize I love Kyall? He should be
mine.
”

“But sweetheart, falling in love with Kyall McQueen is something all the girls do.” She frowned. “You told me Kyle admitted to being in love with you.”

“You bet he did!” India lied.

“Then, my poor girl, I think he's about to take that back.”

“That's why I hate her,” India mumbled.

“She's too nice to hate,” Julanne suddenly counterattacked. “The one who needs hating around here is Mrs. Ruth Bloody McQueen. If Ruth McQueen was running the world, we'd all be at war.”

“You've never liked her, have you, Mum?”

“India, no one likes Ruth McQueen, with the possible exception of you, and that's only because she's been filling your head with false hopes.”

“So no one likes her but no one stays away when she issues an invitation?” India said in a challenging voice.

“It's not like that at all,” Julanne Claydon retorted sharply. “Our families tend to stick together. We all go back a long way.” She shrugged helplessly. “Ruth might want you to marry Kyall, but even she can't make it happen.”

“She's going to give it a darn good try.”

“How?” Julanne gasped.

“There you go again. How, when, why? I don't
know,
Mum.”

“Put poison in the drinking water?” Julanne volunteered
sarcastically. “Then again, maybe she would if she thought she could get away with it.”

“What are you saying, Mum?” India eyed her mother critically.

“I'm saying, my girl, don't trust Ruth McQueen. And get a grip on yourself,” Julanne snapped. “This isn't the end of the world. It might feel bad now, but there's always tomorrow. You're young, you're beautiful and you're a Claydon.”

“What I really want to be is a McQueen,” India announced tartly.

That hurt Julanne's feelings. “Let's get this straight, India,” she chided. “The Claydons have always been a happy family. The McQueens, believe me, would fit into a pretty grim movie script. And the woman to blame is right over there watching Kyall—whose hand has just slipped around Sarah Dempsey's waist.”

“Do you think I can't see it?” India asked, stung.

“We're not alone. The whole room can see it. I don't know how to tell you this, my darling, but Ruth Bloody McQueen has been wasting your time.”

God help me she has,
India thought, completely revolted by the woman she had once revered.

 

T
HE BUFFET SUPPER
was sumptuous, served at ten-thirty in the huge garden room at the rear of the house. This was a fairly recent extension to the original homestead, opening up an informal dining room and giving the whole area a view of the rear landscape—the towering trees, the dark-emerald creek that snaked through the home gardens and by day, the cloudless peacock-blue sky. Tonight the gardens had been strategically lit, the illumination of lights and stars shown to advantage through the series of floor-to-ceiling arched doorways.

“I never thought anyone would go to so much trouble for me,” Morris remarked in wonderment to Harriet. He gazed around him with dazzled eyes. “The homestead is magnificent. Such a sense of history. And just look at that food! It would feed an army.”

Harriet looked toward the laden buffet tables. “You may be amazed to find how little will be left over,” she said dryly. “This family has money, my dear. Not flashy new money. Old money that's grown and grown with time. One has to hand it to Ruth. She handled everything extremely well for many years after she lost her husband. Enid and Max helped a great deal, not that they ever got much credit. But it's been Kyall who's built on everything his forebears accomplished. He's the one with the vision, getting into all kinds of new areas as a safety measure against an uncertain future for wool. You should listen to him sometime, Morris. He's a young man with ideas.”

“I'd very much like to.” Morris was most impressed with Kyall McQueen. Real character there, and a charm of manner he obviously hadn't inherited from his grandmother. Though Morris was very appreciative of the honor accorded him this evening, not fully realizing it had been Kyall's idea, he found Ruth McQueen rather frightening, although he didn't know why. Normally he wasn't a man who felt threatened by powerful women. He'd met quite a few in his time, but no one like the McQueen matriarch, with her chill demeanor. It was a pleasure to turn back to Harriet, who looked the world straight in the eye. He was becoming increasingly fond of her.