The Parks Empire: Secrets, Lies and Loves: Romancing the Enemy

Chapter Seven

Cade went to the front door of his father’s two-story Pacific Heights mansion while Stacy stopped to splash her hands in the Poseidon fountain in the front courtyard. He’d grown up in this house, but he felt no sense of nostalgia nor attachment to it.

His father had redone the interior some twelve or so years ago, removing the ornate furniture Cade remembered from his childhood and replacing it, with the help of an expensive decorator, with a minimalist style. The house now seemed like a store display—too sterile to house a family.

The door opened before he could ring the doorbell, and Brenda Wheeler, the housekeeper who’d raised Cade and his siblings, beamed at him.

“Wheelie,” Cade said as he swept the matronly widow into an embrace and bussed her on each cheek.

“You rapscallion,” she scolded, hugging him back. “Stop this foolishness and come in the house. Is that other rascal with you? I have a special treat for her in the kitchen.”

“I’m here,” Stacy called, running across the flagstones and up the steps. “What is the surprise?”

“Now that would spoil it, wouldn’t it?” Mrs. Wheeler declared. “Mr. Cade, your father is waiting in the library. You come with me, missy.”

Stacy went with the housekeeper while Cade directed his steps to the library, his favorite place in the fifteen-room mansion during his growing years. His father was there, a glass of wine in his hand, as he stood at the window and gazed at the night view of the city.

So was his sister, Emily. She stood at the bar, pouring a glass of wine for herself. “Cade, join us?” she asked, holding the decanter up.

He nodded. “Thanks, Em,” he said, taking the glass, then leaning down to exchange a hug.

His twin had golden-brown hair, green eyes—which reminded him of another woman with brilliant green eyes—and their mother’s dimples, which now deepened as she smiled warmly at him. Emily was a romantic. She denied it, but the facts belied her protests—she was a wedding planner. A very good one, according to their friends.

“I wondered if you would make it,” Walter said, crossing the room and stopping in front of Cade. “Your secretary said you’d left work early Friday and gone to the ranch.”

Cade shook his father’s hand and smiled in spite of the other man’s sour expression and the fact Walter hadn’t asked about Stacy, his only grandchild. “Of course I came. It’s a command appearance, isn’t it?”

He caught his sister’s warning grimace, telling him their father was in no mood for jocularity. So? When had he ever been?

“Huh,” Walter said and sat in his favorite chair. “I suppose we’ll have to drag Jessica from her lair. Rowan hasn’t yet informed me of his plans for the evening.”

Jessica, the artist of the family, lived in a cottage on the estate. Her studio was there, and that’s where she stayed unless otherwise summoned to the main house.

Rowan, the wild one, as Cade and Emily dubbed their brother, might or might not stop by. At that moment, Cade heard the roar of a motorcycle. “I believe he’s here.”

Emily smiled in relief. She, more than anyone, tried to keep peace between Walter and the children. Cade was glad she had her own place and a successful business. A hundred years ago, she would probably have lived at home, a spinster who had to bow to their father’s orders.

Hearing voices in the back hall, Cade surmised Rowan and Jessica had arrived at the same time. He heard them both speak to the housekeeper, then her low voice urging them into the library.

Jessica came in first. She smelled of a floral perfume and the mineral spirits she used to clean her brushes. She was dressed in black from head to foot. The slacks and form-fitting knit top were striking with her blond hair and blue eyes. Like Em, Jessica also had Anna Parks’s dimples and winning smile.

Rowan entered wearing jeans, boots and a ragged long-sleeved shirt over a black T-shirt. His hair was too long and he sported a three-day beard, all elements designed to irritate their sire. Like Jessica, he had blue eyes and dimples, but his hair was black as midnight.

Long ago, Cade had gotten used to Rowan’s good looks stopping women cold in their tracks. Since the brothers had run in different circles, it hadn’t been a problem.

“Cade,” Jessica murmured, coming forward to hug him, then Emily. She spoke politely to the patriarch of the family, but that was all.

“Hey, bro,” Rowan said in his irrepressible fashion. The two high-fived each other, then shook hands.

Of the four siblings, Cade thought his daughter took after Rowan the most in personality and high spirits, a fact that caused his brother to laugh uproariously in approval and conspire with the child to drive Cade up the wall on his rare visits to their house.

Rowan turned from Cade. His grin disappeared when he looked at his father. “Father,” he said in less than cordial tones and didn’t offer to shake hands.

Walter nodded to his younger son.

Like emissaries from warring countries, Cade observed, each keeping a neutral stance while plotting the overthrow of the other.

“Wine?” Emily asked, breaking the little silence that hung over the room now that all were present.

“Got a beer?” Rowan asked.

“No, sorry.” Emily gave him a beseeching glance, as if pleading with him to behave, then poured two glasses of wine and gave them to the younger pair.

When Mrs. Wheeler came to the doorway, Walter stood. “Dinner,” he announced and held out an arm to each of his daughters.

Cade smiled grimly when Rowan waggled his eyebrows and fell into step beside him. They followed the other three into the dining room.

Assessing the others, Cade had a sudden sense of impending disaster. His father was unusually tense and dour, Rowan was obviously geared up for a fight, Jessica was oblivious, or indifferent, to all but her own dark thoughts, while Em probably hoped they could get through the evening with a modicum of grace and family unity.

Just another happy evening in his father’s house.

As Jessica and Rowan became more and more silent, Cade and Emily kept the conversation going during the meal. He told of Stacy’s new experiences in kindergarten and how much she liked her new teacher.

He explained about Tai and her mother’s illness. “Sara has been taking Stace to school and keeping her every afternoon, so that’s been a load off my mind.”

“Sara Carlton,” his father interrupted the story. “You took her to the ranch over the weekend.”

At the accusing tone, all eyes turned toward Cade. “That’s right,” he said, forcing a calm he no longer felt. “I owed her for helping out.”

“Big-time,” Rowan agreed, giving their father a hard glance before finishing the last of his salad.

Mrs. Wheeler entered with the serving cart. She removed the salad plates, then served salmon and rice pilaf with a medley of vegetables and hot rolls.

“Is Stacy being a bother?” Cade asked.

“Not at all,” the woman assured him. “She’s had her dinner and is playing with the new kittens Tansy had. She’s picked out the one she wants,” she added with a smile before leaving the dining room.

“Stacy loves pets,” Emily said to Cade. “Perhaps having a kitten will make up for having to leave the dogs and her pony at the ranch.”

“What about leaving it at home alone all day?” he asked.

Jessica spoke up. “Cats are marvelously adaptable and easy to train.” She glanced at Walter at the head of the table, bitterness in her eyes. “As are children.”

Rowan held up his glass. “I’ll drink to that.” He finished off the wine.

To Cade’s surprise, Walter merely glanced up, then continued eating, his mind evidently far from them.

When the meal was over, they returned to the library where Mrs. Wheeler had set up a tray with fresh coffee and a platter of various kinds of mints.