Chapter 19
Alex pulled his Lincoln to a stop close to the snow bank on the side of the street and shut off the engine. He studied the Cape Cod-style house.
White smoke billowed in a straight plume from the flue. Sheer drapes, as white as the snow swirling in tufts around the shrubs edging the house, draped the windows. A wreath decorated with sprigs of holly and a large red bow hung on the front door. Icicle lights were strung neatly across the eaves. Silver spruce and Scotch pine trees sat sporadically across the front yard, their branches heavily laden with snow. The paved driveway leading to a double car garage was clear of snow and ice. Though snow covered the grass, he imagined it as meticulously kept as the house.
He hopped from the Lincoln, strode up the cobblestone walkway, and thirty seconds later rang the doorbell. From the front stoop he heard the melodic chime sing through the house.
A tall, brown-eyed blonde answered the door. She wore her hair pulled back in a neat bun and was dressed in black silk Capri pants, a white silk blouse and black low-heeled sling backs.
"Yes?" she asked in a perfectly modulated voice.
"Elizabeth Palmer?"
"Yes." She frowned and in that moment, he recognized a resemblance between the two women.
"My name is Alex Cowan. I'm a friend of Susan’s."
"Is she all right? Has something happened to my sister?" She placed a hand across her heart and inhaled.
"She's fine." He smiled to reassure her.
She exhaled.
Her reaction pleased him. Obviously, she still cared about her sister. Maybe all was not lost between them. "May I come in? There's something I need to talk to you about." Alex noticed her white-knuckle grip on the door did not relax. "I'll only take up a few minutes of your time, or if you'd feel more comfortable, we could talk here. It's about Susan. It's important."
She hesitated a moment, then stepped aside. "Come in."
He crossed the threshold and entered a spacious and expensively furnished foyer.
Beneath his feet, an Oriental rug in deep shades of red and gold stretched across the breadth of the doorway. Opposite an antique settee, a gilded mirror hung on the wall above a mahogany console. Overhead a crystal chandelier sparkled in the sunlight streaming in through the sidelights at the door. If he remembered correctly, her husband was an orthodontist.
She closed the door behind him. "We'll be more comfortable in the living room."
After wiping his shoes, he followed behind her.
She took a seat on an ivory brocade Provincial sofa and indicated for him to sit in a wingback chair across from her. He unbuttoned his black wool topcoat, loosened the cashmere scarf around his neck, and sat.
"I'm expecting company in a few minutes." She glanced at her watch.
He wondered if that were a warning. She didn't look like the easily frightened type. "I promise I won't take up much of your time."
She searched his face, seemingly trying to determine what he was about to say but was too polite to ask.
He decided to get right to the point.
"This is about what happened between you and your brother and Susan years ago."
"This conversation is over." She made a move to stand.
He leaned back in the chair. "I'm going to ask Susan to marry me when her divorce is final." It occurred to him she might not know anything about her sister's life. "You know she's in the process of getting a divorce?"
She sat back down. "I may have heard something about that. What does that have to do with me? I'm sure you aren't here to ask for my sister’s hand in marriage."
He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. "No, I'm not. I'd like all of Susan's family to attend the wedding, and I'm here to ask you to end this feud. I know it would please Susan if it were over." That was true. He had seen the pain in her eyes when she’d told him what happened between her siblings and her.
"I have a right to my anger. What Susan did was inexcusable." She crossed her arms against her chest and stared at the fire burning in the hearth.
"Susan told me you thought she coerced your mother into changing her will."
"She did."
Only a short while ago she worried something had happened to Susan, and for that brief moment she hadn't thought about the hurt of the past. This was not a woman who forgave or forgot easily. "Mrs. Palmer, would a nineteen-year-old know enough to do something like that?" He shook his head. "I'm not so sure." He kept his voice calm, hoping she would see the good sense behind that question.
"She's very smart."
He smiled. "I agree with you there. But coercion spells deviousness to me, and I don't see your sister as devious." A moment passed, then another.
"I have a right to be angry."
"Maybe so, but isn’t it time to bury the hatchet? Twenty-one years is a long time to be angry." When she didn't answer, he relaxed against the back of the chair and crossed his legs.
"Do you have children, Mrs. Palmer?" He knew she didn't. The information Ollie gathered on her and her husband was comprehensive.
She shook her head.
"Susan has two. Katie is sixteen. She's growing into a wonderful young lady. She reminds me of you. She's beautiful and intelligent. Benjamin is seven going on thirty. He's a great kid, has these big brown eyes that light up a room when he smiles and this mop of blond curly hair — "
"I know."
Though the anger she felt toward Susan hadn't abated with time, she kept up with the happenings in her sister's life. That was a good sign. Maybe there was hope for them yet. "I'm not asking you to make a decision now. Think about it. Think about all the years wasted, all the things missed. You were close once, and you can be again. Talk it over with your husband and your brother."
She gave him a long, steady look. "Why should I make the first move? Why can't it be Susan?"
He stood. "I'm sure Susan would if she knew you were receptive to a truce. What does it matter really, though, who makes the first move? As far as I'm concerned, you've both missed out on too much in each other's lives as it is and allowing it to continue is a ... well, it's just not right." He dug a business card from the inside breast pocket of his coat, wrote Susan's address on the back and handed it to her. "In case you change your mind."
"What if she slams the door in my face?"
She didn't know her sister at all. But he could see that would concern even the most confident, self-assured person. He shrugged. "At least then you can say you tried. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?" He extended his hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you." The warmth of her hand surprised him.
"I'll see you out."
At the door, he turned. "For the first two years of my life, my aunt looked after me. When she died, I was tossed from one foster home to another. I never experienced a parent's love or the love of siblings." He stared at the gleaming hardwood floors a moment. "Maybe because of that I can't imagine any rift that would cause me to be apart from my siblings.” He nodded. “I hope you'll do what’s right."
Behind the steering wheel of his car, Alex reconsidered his decision to make things right with Susan's family. He didn't know what he expected Elizabeth would be like, but he hadn't expected an ice princess. The thought gave him chills. Maybe it had been a mistake to interfere and maybe he should take his own advice and tell Susan about his past. Wasn't she forgiving, understanding and compassionate?