“That’s what I pay you for.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, then turned her attention to Colton. “Uncle Jonathan is very stubborn. Can you say stubborn?”
Her question earned her a faint smile.
Jonathan ignored the exchange. He turned to leave, then paused. “The funeral is Saturday. You said Colton should be there. You still think that?”
“Yes. He won’t remember it, but when he’s older he’ll want to know that he was there.”
“It’s at one in the afternoon.”
“We’ll be ready.”
“You don’t have to go. Lucinda will be there.”
“I don’t mind,” she told him. “I want to be there for both of you.”
He almost didn’t believe her. After all, her comment implied a form of caring. But then he reminded himself that this was Cynthia he was talking about and caring was the one thing she did best.
One day she would learn that being that soft was going to make her life hell. He only hoped that he wasn’t the one to teach her that lesson.
The hillside graves stood side by side. Cynthia swallowed the tears burning her eyes and the back of her throat. She didn’t cry for Lisa and David Steele-after all she’d never met the couple. Instead her sadness came from memories of Frank’s funeral and the realization that Colton would never know his parents.
She hugged the baby closer to her. Colton responded with a cooing sound that eased some of the ache in her heart.
“Are you all right?” Jonathan asked softly from his place beside her.
“I’m fine. Anyway, I’m supposed to be asking
He shrugged. “Fine.”
The funeral service ended and people made their way to the graveside for the final words from the minister. Cynthia glanced at the gathering crowd. It was a cool early November afternoon. Although the sky was clear, the temperature had been dropping for days.
Everyone was appropriately dressed in black for the occasion, but Cynthia saw few signs of real sorrow. No woman wept, no man looked stricken. From what she could tell, the polite collection of people was of mostly business associates. There was no family save Jonathan and Colton, and few friends.
At the church service she’d noticed that most people who had spoken had done so in the abstract, as if they hadn’t really known David or Lisa.
“Where are his friends?” she asked in a low voice.
Jonathan glanced down at her. “I’m not sure he had any. I wouldn’t have known them. David was seven years younger than me. When we were growing up we were always at different places in our lives.”
Cynthia nodded, then looked at Lucinda. The housekeeper had a faint frown pulling her eyebrows together. Cynthia remembered all that she’d said about David. None of it had been flattering.
How could two brothers have been so different, she wondered. How could they have become so estranged?
The minister began to speak. She listened to his words. Colton was quiet as if the baby recognized the solemnity of the occasion. Now he and Jonathan only had each other. Cynthia vowed that she would make sure they bonded together to form a family unit. After all that he had been through, Jonathan deserved someone to love, who loved him back.
David Steele’s house was as coldly modern as Jonathan’s was old-fashioned and welcoming. Both were huge and expensive. While during the dark of night Cynthia could play a silly game of pretend and actually see herself settling permanently in Jonathan’s home, David’s place of residence seemed to mock her from the moment she entered the front door.
Huge white walls soared up two stories, broken only by splashes of color provided by large canvases of confusing modern art. In the center of the massive foyer stood a fat white marble column topped by a slick, black grinning creature-part gargoyle, part devil. The white tile floor made the open area seem even bigger and Cynthia had the feeling that if she spoke, her voice would echo.
Jonathan moved through an archway into another room. She followed and found herself in an open living area. There were huge windows with views of the city and the mountains beyond. Here the color scheme was again predominantly white with only the artwork providing any contrast.
“The view must be something at night,” she managed to say by way of a comment. What she wanted to say was that she’d never been in a place that made her feel so incredibly cold.
“From what I remember, it’s very impressive,” Jonathan said. “I’ve only been here a couple of times before.”
Cynthia shivered. At least she’d thought to have Lucinda take Colton home after the funeral. She hated to think of that bright, happy baby in this ice palace.
Jonathan turned slowly in the center of the living room. “I don’t know why I bothered to come here. There’s nothing that I want.”
Cynthia sighed. “I know you feel that way now, and it makes sense. After all, you and David were hardly close. But time may change your opinion of him, or at least blunt some of your anger. If you don’t take a few mementos now, when you can, you may regret it.”
“So speaks Pollyanna,” he grumbled. “You could find good in the devil.”
“That would be a stretch even for me.” She looked at the sculpture of a wounded bull at the feet of a bullfighter and shuddered. “But I still stand by what I said. Also, we need to pick up some pictures for Colton to have later. And I want to look at his room here. There might be a few things we should take back to your house.” Although she couldn’t imagine it right now.
Jonathan didn’t say anything. Instead he led the way back into the foyer and up the stairs to the second floor. In the white-on-white master bedroom, she saw pictures scattered along a marble- topped dresser. They were all of David and Lisa. Not a single photo showed Colton. Cynthia frowned at the oversight.
“Take whatever you want,” he said. “I’ll go down to the kitchen and get some bags so we can carry the stuff out.”
She nodded, then began to study the framed snapshots. There was David and Lisa on vacation in different parts of the world, a couple of wedding pictures and some candid shots of them around the house. She picked three at random, then added one of the wedding photos. Next, she went down the hall until she found a study.
There were books and a desk large enough to serve as an alternate runway for the local airport. Several of the bookshelves held framed pictures. She walked over and began to study them.
She was looking at a picture of David with an older man when Jonathan entered the room. “Is this your father?” she asked.
He walked over to stand next to her. “Yeah.”
On another shelf she found pictures of the older man with a pretty woman. “Your mother?”
Jonathan shook his head. “David’s mother. My stepmother.” He shrugged. “She was good to me. I missed her when she died.”
There weren’t any pictures of Jonathan in the room. But then how many brothers kept pictures of each other standing around? She collected a half-dozen more pictures and added them to the bags Jonathan had found.
“At least you had one positive family experience,” she said lightly. “Your stepmother. Did you get along with your father?”
The question popped out before she could call it back. Too late she remembered
