“That isn’t what that Dunagan man said,” Barb reminded her husband.
He frowned at her. “Dunagan was just passing on gossip,” he said with deliberate firmness.
“Well, there is some gossip about that Miami gangster—what’s his name, Deluca?—who’s trying to set up his own operation down here on Paradise Island. They say he’s got his hand into all sorts of illegal gambling in Florida and now he wants to take over a casino or two in the Bahamas.”
“He got caught for running an illegal betting operation,” Barney replied. “He opened a couple of shops so people could bet on greyhound and horse racing. But he reneged on the payoffs or lied about the bets that were placed. He did three years. Had a really good lawyer,” he added with a grin.
Barb gave him a cold look. “He’s a crook.”
“Sure he is,” Barney agreed. “But he’s got a lot of muscle, and that beautiful daughter who travels around with him. They say he uses her to set up men. But she’s got the personality of a spitting cobra.”
“How exactly did you get home, baby?” Barb asked suddenly.
“The head of security drove me over in a big black stretch limousine,” Delia said with a big smile. “It was incredible!”
“I forgot you’d never been in one,” Barney said, sighing. “I wanted to bring you up to stay with us in New York and show you the town. But your…mother wouldn’t hear of it,” he added curtly. “She hated my guts. She said she didn’t want you around me.”
“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