Once Upon A Kiss.... Оливия Гейтс
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up.” Her voice rose, along with frustration and humiliation at being forced to endure Vicki’s inquisition. If they were on neutral territory she could tell her to get lost, or simply walk away. But here, Vicki was a guest of her employer, so she couldn’t.
“Now, now, don’t burst a blood vessel.” Vicki’s eyes were brightening, if anything. “I suspect there’s a lot more to you behind that placid smile.” She studied Annie’s face for a moment, as Annie’s blood pressure rose. “I’ve seen Sinclair looking at you, too.”
“Why wouldn’t he? I’m his employee.” This was almost unbearable. She was lying with one side of her brain, while the other madly considered Vicki’s bold statements. Was Sinclair really looking at her differently? And how would Vicki know? She hadn’t seen him for years. Probably she was just trying to wind her up. “It’s hard to wash these dishes with you distracting me.”
“So leave them. They’re not going anywhere.”
“I can’t. I have to get dinner ready soon and they’ll be in the way.”
Vicki tilted her head to the side. “It can’t be easy slaving away in the kitchen while everyone else reclines on the patio and sips champagne. I think it would drive me half-mad.”
“It’s my job. We all have one.”
“Do we?”
“Sinclair works very hard at his business.”
Vicki’s eyebrow shot up again. “You are loyal. And I’m sure you’re right. In fact, sometimes I wonder if he’d ever do anything else unless someone forced him into it.”
“Is it wrong to enjoy your work?”
“I think it’s ideal.” Vicki frowned.
“Do you work at an auction house?” Annie couldn’t resist asking. She’d been wondering if Vicki had a real job.
“Between you, me and this wilted stalk of celery, I’m between gigs right now.” She took a bite of the celery.
“I suppose you’re independently wealthy.” She rinsed the dish and put it in the rack.
“Something like that.” Vicki shot her a fake smile. “Gotta dash. It’s been interesting chatting with you.” Annie felt herself relaxing as Vicki moved toward the door with her characteristic floaty walk. “And I still think there’s something going on between you and Sinclair.”
The next morning Katherine asked Annie to help her search the attic. Mercifully, Sinclair was out playing golf with a business prospect, but unfortunately Vicki was there, her violet eyes seeming to peer below the surface of every human interaction.
“This set of hunting knives is probably worth something.” Vicki held one of the tarnished blades up to the light. She jotted something in a little notebook. “I could find a home for it if you like.”
Annie frowned. She’d noticed Vicki taking an interest in many of the items. She’d filled quite a few pages with notes.
“That’s probably a good idea. What would we do with them anyway?”
“They’re just moldering away up here.”
“They are part of the Drummond family history.” Annie felt called upon to suggest that Sinclair might want them someday. Of course it wasn’t her place to say that explicitly.
“True.” Katherine looked thoughtfully at an odd contraption of leather and woven rope. “Though perhaps the Drummonds need to shed some of this unhelpful baggage in order to make room for wonderful new things. That’s what my friend Claire says. She’s mad about feng shui.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Vicki made another note in her book. “Sometimes an object will sit in one place for a hundred years, doing nothing but collect dust, when in another person’s hands it could enjoy full and active use.”
Annie tried to picture some of these objects taking on new lives. Did anyone really have a use for old celluloid shirt collars? Then again, future generations might one day enjoy seeing the crazy things their ancestors wore. “I think Sinclair’s children might have fun going through these things one day.”
Katherine looked up as if shot. She paused a moment, then nodded. “You’re absolutely right, of course, Annie. We’ll put everything back where we found it.”
Annie couldn’t resist a glance at Vicki, who glared at her for a split second, then assumed a forced smile.
She enjoyed a brief flash of pride at defending Sinclair’s inheritance. “Did you hear back from the other branches of the family?” She knew Katherine had sent them both letters.
“Not a word. I phoned about a week after sending the letters. I left a message with some elderly Scottish person at the family estate in the Highlands, but no one has called back. For the Florida branch, I left a message on some robotic voice mail system so I don’t even know if anyone heard it. Exasperating, really. It would be pointless finding one part of the cup if we can’t convince them to produce the others.”
“Do they even know about the cup?” Annie sorted through some mismatched plates.
“They do now, if they got my letters. I know there’s bad blood between the branches of the family, but it’s time to put that behind us. Sinclair’s father is gone, and so are most of the Drummonds of his generation. Which is proof enough that the family needs to change its luck. The ones in charge now are all Sinclair’s age, or close, and have no reason to feel enmity toward each other. Young people these days don’t carry centuries-old grudges for no reason.”
“Or do they?” Vicki asked enigmatically.
“Sinclair doesn’t.” Katherine shook out a brocaded jacket. “Of course, the flipside is that he shows no interest whatsoever in the family or its history.” She sighed and let the jacket fall in her lap. “Including the pressing need to produce the next generation.”
Annie cringed. If she wasn’t on birth control she might have had the next generation of Drummonds growing inside her right now. They certainly hadn’t stopped to chat about contraception in their rush to tear each other’s clothes off.
“There’s still plenty of time.” Vicki looked up from making notes on a set of spoons. “He’s young.”
“I know, but I’m not. I want to enjoy my grandchildren while I’m healthy and energetic enough to have fun with them.”
Annie wanted to laugh. Katherine Drummond barely looked forty-five. Though that was probably due to the art of a number of fine surgeons and dermatologists. She was probably somewhere in her late fifties. Hardly old, however you looked at it.
“Sinclair will find the right woman eventually.” Vicki peered into a small wooden chest.
“Will he? I’m not so sure. He found the first two by himself and I think it’s time I took over. He needs women who aren’t so driven by personal ambition. Sinclair doesn’t want to set the world on fire or fly around in private jets every weekend. He needs someone quiet and simple.”
Annie’s soul nodded in agreement. Maybe she really was perfect for Sinclair, and they’d all realize it if she only waited patiently.
Vicki laughed. “I’m not sure many women want to be described that way. I know I wouldn’t.”
“I don’t mean simple-minded, just someone without complex ulterior motives. Sinclair is a simple man, brilliant—”
“And gorgeous….”
“But simple.” Katherine and Vicki said it together, then laughed. Annie had a feeling Sinclair would hate being discussed in this trivializing fashion. Didn’t they care if he loved the woman?
“So I take it this means I’m not supposed to sink my own claws into him.” Vicki lifted a cloudy etched-glass trophy and peered at it. Or pretended to.
Katherine