Like Erica and Natalie’s sister, Allie, Monica Malone had once been a Fortune Cosmetics spokesmodel—the very first one, decades ago. And along with becoming Fortune’s Face, the woman had become the reigning queen of the silver screen. No one in the family could stand her, but it seemed she was always in the background somewhere, stirring up trouble—and never more so than recently, since Grandma Kate’s death. She’d been buying up stock in the company wherever she could find it. And when it came out six months before that Jake had turned his own shares over to her, no one had known what to make of it—and they still didn’t, because Jake adamantly refused to give a single reason for what he had done.
“And that’s not all that’s in there,” Erica continued. “There’s speculation about the fires at the Fortune labs, a rundown on the threats against Allie, a description of the company break-ins, and if you turn the page you’ll be treated to a chart that shows how far the company stock has fallen. Jake gets the blame for not dealing with anything right.
“Oh, what’s happened to him?” Erica moaned. “I just… I still can’t understand why he would do such a thing. He’s always put his duty to the family and the company above everything else.”
Natalie was scanning the article. She looked up. “I can’t see anything new here. It’s just more of the same old stuff.”
Her mother sniffed. “Yes, and now even more people know all about it, since it’s a front-page story in the Sunday edition.”
Natalie asked carefully, “Mom, what can you do about this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you going over to see Dad? Is that it?”
“No. I can’t do that. You know I can’t. Jake and I are hardly speaking.”
“Well, then, maybe it’s a mistake to get all worked up.”
Erica shook her head. “I can’t help myself. I’ve been furious with your father for a long time now. But lately, I… Nat, a woman can’t just forget all about a man she’s spent thirty years of her life with.”
Natalie knew what was really bothering her mother: Erica still loved Jake. And Jake still loved her. Natalie wished they would work through their differences and reunite. But she was not going to get sucked into the family drama this time around. She had spent too many years playing confessor, comforter and caregiver to her family—as well as to the men in her life. And now she was bound and determined to make things different for herself.
“Nat…”
“What?”
“You know, if anyone could get through to your father, it would be you. You’re so reasonable and level-headed, and you always know just what to say to get people to open up to you.”
Natalie looked straight into her mother’s gorgeous green eyes. “Mom, we have talked about this. I won’t play go-between. Not anymore. And that’s that.”
Erica was quiet. Somewhere in the trees beside the house, a bird trilled out a few bars of song. Then Erica nodded. “Of course. You’re right. I know you are.”
In spite of her determination not to play the role of rescuer, Natalie ached for her mother. Within Erica there had always been a deep vein of dissatisfaction, of restlessness, though the world saw only a beautiful mask of cool ice-princess control. Lately, since Erica and Jake had separated, the veneer of cool control seemed to be cracking around the edges, while the fitful unhappiness was more and more obvious.
Natalie tucked the paper under one arm and put the other around her mother’s proud, model-straight shoulders. “Come on inside. I have some iced tea already brewed.”
Her mother perked up a little. “You’re a lifesaver, Nat. If we could just sit and talk for a while, I know I’ll feel better.”
“And that’s just what we’ll do. Come on.”
But Erica had stepped outside her own misery enough to notice what Natalie was wearing. She stood back. “What in the world have you been up to?”
“Dress-up.” Natalie was glad for the chance to lighten the mood. She turned in a circle, vamping. “Do I look fabulous, or what?”
Erica groaned. “Or what.”
Natalie shimmied her shoulders and shook her behind. “You’re just jealous, that’s all. You cool, understated types never get to wear the bangles and beads.”
Erica tipped her blond head to the side. “You know, fifty years ago, it would have been showstopping.”
“Fifty years ago, I’m sure it was.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I found a trunk in the attic.”
Erica laughed, then considered. “That dress was not Kate’s. It’s too flashy for Kate.”
“I thought the same thing. But who knows? Whoever it belonged to, it was in the trunk, and I couldn’t resist trying it on.”
Both women grinned, then grew somber. And then, as so rarely happened now, Natalie was the child again, looking to her mother for comfort.
“I miss her, Mom.”
And Erica was the one putting a consoling arm around her daughter. “We all do, honey.”
Natalie leaned into her mother’s embrace. “It’s as if the world is spiraling out of control, since we lost her.”
“I know. Oh, I know.”
“I can’t help feeling that if she were here, everything would be all right. She’d get right to the bottom of this…problem with Dad. And she’d take care of that awful Monica Malone. And she’d know right away if Tracey Ducet was the phony we all thinks she is.” Tracey, who was the image of Natalie’s aunt Lindsay, had recently surfaced claiming to be Lindsay’s lost twin— and thus the heir to a huge chunk of Fortune assets. Sterling Foster, the Fortune family’s longtime attorney, had been investigating her claim, privately saying it was false, but unable to prove anything, since the FBI records seemed to have been lost somehow.
“But Kate is not here,” Erica said sadly. “And we must accept that.”
Natalie leaned even closer to her mother. At the same time, she felt for the chain around her own neck, and the rosebud charm at the end of it. The rosebud was a talisman from her grandmother; Kate had left a different charm to each of her children and grandchildren. “Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“Sometimes I feel that she is here. Do you know what I mean? That she’s watching over us. That she’ll never let real harm come to any of us.”
“Oh, Nat,” Erica murmured tenderly, “you always were the most sentimental of all my babies.”
“Okay, so it’s corny. But still, it’s how I feel.”
Erica made a sound of understanding and stroked Natalie’s hair.
Then Natalie stepped back. “Now come on.” She took her mother’s hand. “Let’s go in. I could use a little iced tea myself.”
Hand in hand, mother and daughter walked up the white-pebbled walk between the rose trees to the house.
Neither of them noticed that Bernie didn’t follow. The big dog had wandered down to the boat dock behind the house.
And during the whole time Natalie and her mother were sharing iced tea and sympathy at the breakfast table, Bernie sat at the end of the dock, staring longingly out over the water to where a blue-and-white patio boat floated lazily on the slow currents of the lake.
“This