Diamond jewelry in gold settings was displayed on a background of deep royal-blue velvet. Other pieces in white gold, or perhaps platinum, were on red velvet. In one case, hundreds of loose gems were artfully arranged like a river of ice cascading over the landscape of velvet.
Everywhere she looked, Sara saw elegance—in paintings on the walls, in rich drapes at the windows, even the gate barring entrance into a back room was made of delicately scrolled wrought-iron that looked like a work of art. Classical music played softly through unseen speakers.
It was all so understated in a rich and sumptuous way.
This was what the Parks family had. This was what their children believed to be their birthright. But part of this empire should have belonged to her family. And what of Tyler and Conrad, Walter Parks’s sons through his affair with their mother?
The door swung open, interrupting her inspection.
A subtle tension entered the elegant showroom. The woman in black straightened slightly, as if coming to attention. A younger man, busy shining an already shiny counter, became busier. Three elderly women, who had been discussing a graduation present for their niece, glanced up, then smiled at the man who’d entered.
Sara recognized him at once.
Walter Parks was sixty, but he was a man who kept himself in good physical shape. He was trim and athletic-looking, his face deeply tanned and leathery from hours in the sun. Tennis, she thought. Golf. Exclusive country clubs. He could afford the membership and greens fees.
At six-two, he was as tall as his son and her neighbor, Cade. His hair was salt-and-pepper gray, his eyes brown.
She hated him on sight.
Rachel laid a hand on her arm and gestured toward the man as he walked through the store and went behind the far counter. Sara nodded that she knew who he was.
“Did the courier arrive?” he asked the store manager, not bothering with a greeting.
“Yes. I put the package in the safe.”
He nodded and disappeared into the back.
Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.
The word pounded in Sara’s head with each beat of her heart. She could hear her mother’s weakened voice, murmuring his name and the accusation as she sank into a coma, her heart giving up the battle to sustain life.
“Make…him…pay,” Marla had whispered to her children as they gathered at her bedside.
“We will,” Tyler had vowed.
“Let’s go,” Sara said to Rachel. “Let’s get out of here.”
After one glance at Sara, Rachel nodded and took her arm, leading her outside and away from the sight of anyone in the store. Sara leaned against the building and forced air into her constricted lungs.
“Are you all right?” Rachel asked.
“Yes. I think so,” Sara added, pushing a smile onto her face. “I am. Really.”
“I didn’t think about him walking in the door while we were there,” Rachel admitted. “It took us both by surprise.”
“Yes. He looks like…”
“Cade?” Rachel guessed.
Sara nodded. “I didn’t realize there would be so much family resemblance.” She shook her head slightly as if to ward off the comparison. “I think I’m ready to go home.”
Back at Sara’s house, Rachel dropped her off, then rolled down the car window. “Don’t forget our big date tomorrow night,” she called out, laughter in her voice.
“I won’t.” Sara waved goodbye before opening the door to her place. No one seemed to be in next door.
Thinking of Stacy, she was filled with regret for the future and the possible hurt to the girl and her father. But then, there was all the regret of the past that Marla Carlton and her four children had had to live with.
“You’re all dressed up,” Stacy said Saturday evening, coming out the door and sitting on the stoop beside Sara.
Sara wore a red knit pantsuit that was one of her favorite outfits and a splurge last year when she’d been happy. Before her fiancé, Chad, then her mother, had died.
“I’m going out to dinner with my brother and his friend tonight. Miss Hanson is going, too.”
Stacy nodded as if she approved.
Sara glanced up and down the street. “She’s supposed to be here by now, but she’s late.”
“Maybe she had a wreck like my mother did.”
The child’s matter-of-fact suggestion startled Sara. Stacy’s world had been shaken by her mother’s death when she was three. Sara wondered again how much the child remembered. Did the bright youngster recall anything her grandfather and father might have said—
Realizing where this thought was leading, Sara broke it off, appalled at the idea of quizzing a child about her family’s private conversations. She could never be a detective as Tyler was, asking intrusive questions and suspecting people of lies and evasions.
“Hello,” a masculine voice said behind them.
Sara stood, her gaze held by Cade’s as he stepped out the door. His smile was warm and beguiling, but in an open way, as if his thoughts were as innocent as his daughter’s.
Since meeting this man, she’d realized how self-centered her fiancé had been. He’d always insisted on having his way. Cade was considerate and good-natured.
“Good evening,” she said, sounding breathless and unsure of herself as undefined emotion clutched at her throat, making it difficult to breathe.
“You look especially lovely tonight.”
“She’s waiting for her boyfriend,” Stacy informed him.
Sara felt heat rise to her face. “Just friends,” she quickly corrected. “And my brother.”
Two cars arrived at the same time. Rachel pulled into the driveway behind Sara’s car. Tyler stopped at the curb and got out. “Ready?” he asked, coming up the sidewalk.
“Yes,” Sara answered.
She realized she had to introduce the two men. She did so quickly. Tension crawled along her nerves like a poisonous snake as the men shook hands and spoke.
“You look like Sara,” Stacy said.
Tyler dropped to his haunches and shook her hand as Sara introduced the child. “Yes, all of the kids in my family look like our mother.”
“I look like my daddy,” Stacy told him.
Tyler studied her, then her father. “You sure do,” he agreed. He smiled at the child, then stood. “We have dinner reservations, so we’d better get along.”
“Have a pleasant evening,” Cade said.
Rachel was already seated in the back of Tyler’s car along with Nick Banning, Sara noted when she and Tyler joined them. She sat in the front passenger seat.
“I recognized Cade Parks,” Nick said when they were on their way. “The child was his daughter, I presume?”
“Yes. Stacy. She’ll be in my class Monday.”
“I don’t think I’m ready to face a roomful of rowdy kids.” Rachel made a fearful grimace.
Nick chuckled, then became serious. “Mark is meeting us at the restaurant.”
“Has