Whether it was to her liking or not, she had become embroiled in her brother's life and he was in desperate trouble. He would never be the man he was before. He would either have to go to prison for many years or suffer some other stigma equally as devastating. Yesterday he had been no more to her than a name on a slip of paper, a hope, a promise. Today, he was a real person with real problems, and she couldn't turn her back on him, her only relative, when he would need all the support he could get.
Her reason for wanting to find Ken was that she longed for a family. What she had expected to find was warmth and happiness, hours filled with laughter and reminiscing.
Instead she had walked into a tragic situation. Could that
negate
the fact that Ken Lyman was her brother? Families didn't always share joviality. They shared trouble, too.
And perhaps that was far more binding.
She had become fond of Melanie. The younger woman's naivete and sweetness evoked a maternal affection in Erin and she felt compelled to stay with Melanie and provide whatever help she could during the trying days still to come.
Her decision was made. She would stay in San Francisco.
As she absently sipped her second cup of coffee, she wondered why she felt no relief in having made that important decision. Could it be that she was worried about her business? Taking extended leaves of absence was no way to run a business, particularly one in which the clients often felt they needed to deal with her directly. They trusted Erin's expert opinion and imaginative,
though ex
cellent, taste. Sometimes they wanted her approval before they accepted a proposal presented by one of her employees.
Well, she hadn't missed more than a few days of work since she had started the business. She had trained her staff well. They would manage. And when one compared the problems that sometimes arose over a fashion show, they seemed far too trivial and superficial to weigh against the ones facing her brother and his wife.
Was it being away from Bart that made her hesitate in offering her assistance to Melanie? He would be peeved at her for staying in San Francisco. He would whine and plead for her to come home, but he would understand. She didn't intend to tell him about Ken's crime, but she would make her reasons for staying sound so imperative that a good businessman like Bart would see the advisability of her staying to find the solution to whatever problem de-tained her.
Melanie had been chattering gaily as she went about the chores of cleaning the kitchen after breakfast. She had insisted that Erin needn't help her. Erin hoped she was making all the correct responses to Melanie's questions and comments, but her mind still revolved around her dilemma. Why didn't she want to stay until Ken was found?
She knew the reason, but didn't want to face it. It was tucked away somewhere in her mind and she refused to bring it out of the safe corner into which she had hidden it.
Lance Barrett.
She didn't want to stay here with him around. It hadn't happened often in her life that Erin had been made to feel a fool. Her practical parents had taught her well to handle herself with aplomb, and she had never shied away from adversity, but rather met it head on.
How then could she have been so swayed by Lance last night? She should have fought him with all her strength when he first kissed her. She should have slapped his face hard; called Mike to her rescue, anything but lie there and respond so wantonly to his caresses. What had possessed her to behave that way?
She had resisted the advances of men since high school.
And resistance had become more difficult and the advances more complex the older she became. Bart's persistent urging that she share his bed was an example of that.
She had never allowed a man such access to her. Except, Of course, poor Joseph. But that was totally different.
Still, Lance's attitude this morning was baffling. Just after he had switched off the light in the study last night, he had talked about Ken's future. He hadn't sounded as though he were speaking in an official capacity. He had sounded concerned. His kiss had been that of an ardent lover. Her body was no longer a stranger to his. He had spoken her name in an emotional whisper after that elec-trifying interlude in the darkness.
This morning he had reverted to that cool, impersonal demeanor and called her Miss O'Shea in that dictatorial voice. But he hadn't taunted her. He didn't look like a man pleased with himself. He seemed distraught and worried.
She couldn't figure it out. Even though she had no illusions of him having any real romantic interest in her, she had expected some kind of reaction.
Even more galling was the fact that she found herself unable to forget his kisses. Though what had happened seemed to have had no effect on him, it had affected her.
She had experienced sensations she hadn't known she was capable of until last night. Could she bear to stay in the same city with him, seeing him each time she came to visit Melanie? Her sudden involvement in Ken's life was staggering enough. She woul
d be complicating matters a hun
dredfold if she became attracted to Lance Barrett.
The questions and arguments skipped and played through her mind until she was ready to scream. And still she didn't know what course of action to take.
Meeting Melanie's parents convinced her of what she should do.
The couple rang the doorbell late that morning. Lance had not yet come back from across the street so Mike went to answer the door, after checking their identity through the draped living room window.
Erin, who was seated on the couch looking through a magazine, realized that Lance must have watched her before opening the door. She remembered waiting a long time for him to respond to the ringing doorbell.
Mike followed the couple into the living room and grumbled, "I'd better call Lance," before going to the red telephone and speaking into it. "Does he see them? Okay."
He hung up and then said, "He'll be right over."
"We didn't come to see Mr. Barrett, and I resent not being able to visit my daughter without feeling like I'm being interrogated by that man."
The woman who had dressed down Mike so harshly was apparently used to getting her own way and never being subjected to anyone else's will. With a rueful smile Erin thought that indeed Lance would have been a shock to Melanie's mother.
She was a short woman whose figure necessitated mod-eration at the canape trays at cocktail parties. Her skin and hair were impeccably maintained. The dress she wore was casual, but Erin knew which designer's label was inside. Its price wasn't so casual, unless one were accustomed to having and spending a lot of money, which apparently Mrs. Charlotte Winslow was.
Howard Winslow was as well-groomed and stereotypical as his wife. His graying hair was closely trimmed around a patrician head. Had she not already known his profession, Erin could have guessed it at a glance. His dark blue suit, white shirt, and dark necktie indicated that he must have come straight from the bank of which he was president. His assurance, level steadfast eyes, and authoritative manner would imbue the customers of his bank with confidence and peace of mind that their money was well taken care of.
Erin disliked them intensely and immediately.
Melanie came skipping down the stairs when she heard her mother's voice and now she flew into the room, breathless and excited.
"Oh honestly, Melanie, I wish you'd let me make a hair appointment for you. That limp, straight hair is dis
gust
ing. Just because your husband has pulled this asinine stunt, do you have to let yourself go to seed, too?"
Erin was stunned by Mrs. Winslow's words. How could a mother speak to her child that way? Especially a child whose whole world had crumbled around her.
"I'm sorry, Mother. I haven't thought much about my hair lately,"Melanie apologized contritely. "Hello, Father."
"Hello, Melanie. Has there been any word from Ken?"
"Not directly," Melanie said mysteriously and grinned at Erin.
"What?" Mrs. Winslow demanded. "Was he found?
Did he have all the money with him?"
"No, nothing like that," Melanie said dispiritedly. Her effervescence of a moment ago had been completely dispelled. "Someone came to see him. Someone very important." She gestured toward Erin whom the couple hadn't deigned to acknowledge, though both of them had seen her when they entered the room.
"Well?" was Mrs. Winslow's only comment after she had given Erin a thorough inspection with her icy, color-less gray eyes.
"This is Ken's sister, Miss Erin O'Shea."
There was a heavy silence as Erin stood up politely to greet Melanie's parents. They stared at her as if she had been anathematized.
Before she had time to speak, the silence was broken by Lance opening the front door.
He really is exceedingly
handsome,
Erin thought when he came into sight. His hair was still damp from a recent shower; his jaw was almost shiny from having just been shaved smooth. Erin could smell the brisk spiciness of his cologne from where she stood across the room. It was poignantly familiar to her.
At one quick glance he seemed to perceive the situation.
Shoving his hands into his pockets in a careless gesture, he sauntered into the room. "Hello, Mrs. Winslow, Mr.
Winslow. What are you doing here?"
"I'd think that would be apparent, Barrett," snapped Howard Winslow. "We haven't heard a thing out of you for the last few days and I demand to be kept well informed."
Lance's hands came out of his pockets slowly and Erin saw that they were balled into tight fists. His body was tense with dislike. Only his face remained passive. When he spoke, she was surprised by the level tone. "In the first place, Mr. Winslow, it isn't your place to 'demand' anything. It's not your money that's missing. It belongs to the federal government and the investors in your bank. Secondly, I told you I would keep you apprised of further developments. There have been none."
"Why not?" Mrs. Winslow flared. "It shouldn't be that difficult for you and your band of thugs to find one lone criminal."
"If you're referring to Mr. Lyman, let me point out to you that he hasn't been charged with any crime yet. All we know is that he and a large amount of money happen to be missing at the same time. I'd choose my words carefully if I were you, Mrs. Winslow. You never know when they may come back to haunt you."
Erin could have been knocked over by a feather when she heard what Lance said. Hadn't he said almost the opposite to her last night? He was defending her brother to these spiteful people and she wanted to embrace him out of gratitude. His disdain for the Winslows was as strong as hers. As he looked over their heads at her, she could see it in the blue eyes.
His voice maintained a level pitch when he said, "I see that you have met Mr. Lyman's sister."
Mrs. Winslow snorted, but her husband showed a trifle more courtesy when he said, "We had just been introduced when you came in. Am I to understand that you are a blood relative of Ken's? We were led to believe he had no family." The statement was rife with suspicion.
Bloodlines would be important to these snobs, Erin thought, but she said calmly, "Yes, Mr. Winslow, I am Ken's sister. He and I were adopted by different parents when I was an infant. When I learned of his existence several years ago, I began searching for him. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ken Lyman is my brother. I presented myself here yesterday to meet him."
Her eyes involuntarily focused on Lance who was still looking at her. Could anyone else feel the current that seemed to vibrate between them? "I was aghast when I learned from Mr. Barrett what sort of trouble Ken was in."
"I can't say that I was aghast when I heard about his thiev—" Mrs. Winslow broke off and darted her eyes fearfully toward Lance. "I wasn't surprised when he disappeared," she amended, though with venom. "I never trusted him. Not since the day I first laid eyes on him."
"Mother, please don't talk about Ken like that. He's your son-in-law." Melanie's voice was trembling and her bottom lip quivered. Erin resisted an urge to go to her and shield her from her vituperative parents.
"Through no fault of my own," the woman lashed out.
Her eyes narrowed on her daughter and she shook a beringed index finger at her. "I told you you'd rue the day you married him. And I was right. And you'll go on regretting it for the rest of your life no matter what happens to him now."
Mr. Winslow also faced his daughter. "It wasn't only that he was too old for you. We didn't know anything about his origins, who or what he was descended from. I think his recent actions have proved our point."
Erin couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could anyone display such blatant rudeness? Didn't they realize how insulting to her their words were? She intended to tell them!
She took one belligerent step toward the couple and opened her mouth to scream her protests, but Lance stopped her.
Hurriedly he said, "If you don't mind, will you please postpone this family discussion until some other time? We have business to conduct. -And I'll not tell you again not to dome here. If Mrs. Lyman wants to see you, she can visit you at your residence."