Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [102]
“You, big sister?”
She shook her head. “In that case he’d still be here. He wouldn’t have taken off without a word. Now would he?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Besides, it’s Rachel-Ann I’m worried about. Where do you think she is?”
“Stop it, Jilly! Stop fussing about everyone else and start thinking about yourself. Rachel-Ann will be fine. She’s a lot tougher than we give her credit for.”
“And what about you?”
“You just can’t stop it, can you? I’m fine, too. I haven’t had any illusions about Jackson for years. You’re the one who thought I still needed his approval. I just wanted the old bastard to get the hell out of here and leave me the company. Which he’s done. A little more violently than I expected, but it’s for the best.”
“Dean!” She stared at him, horrified, but he seemed completely unruffled.
“Rachel-Ann and I can take care of ourselves. It’s past time for you to start concentrating on Jilly. You need a life, sweets. Beyond this old house, beyond your foolish siblings. You need a new project to renovate, a new soul to save. I was hoping it was going to be Coltrane, but if it’s not, so be it. Time for all of us to stand on our own two feet, sis.”
“Yes,” she said, not wanting to hear it.
“And time to get rid of this old place. You know it as well as I do.”
She looked up at the cavernous ceiling, the stained sink, the cracked dishes behind the tall, glass-fronted cupboards.
“Yes,” she said. And she started to cry.
24
Eight months later
Jilly Meyer balanced a bag of groceries on her hip as she fiddled with the key to her apartment. It was a tricky lock—the building with its Spanish courtyard dated back to the 1930s, and as far as Jilly could tell the locks had never been changed. She didn’t mind the extra trouble, especially when she looked at the ornate key hanging next to the key to her Saturn. She’d sold the Corvette—it was too powerful, and she’d somehow lost her imperviousness to traffic tickets. After piling up three in a row she decided she needed a more sedate car.
She’d sold La Casa de Sombras. Well, the three of them had, to an independent film studio who planned to restore it to its former glory and use it as offices. She’d warned them about the ghosts, but for some reason no one ever saw them, not even Rachel-Ann.
She’d had a hard time finding an apartment that would let her bring a dog as big as Roofus, but Dean had grown into his role as corporate shark, and he’d found this place for her in a matter of hours, once the sale of La Casa was agreed upon. And the apartment had been perfect, in dire need of having the wallpaper and woodwork stripped, the leaded windows reglazed, the walls replastered. Unfortunately it was finished now, perfect, and there was nothing to occupy her. Rico and Rachel-Ann flatly refused to let her do anything to their new bungalow, so she had to make do with buying baby clothes before her sister was even four months along. Even though Consuelo insisted in shocked tones that it was bad luck. Rico and Rachel-Ann were unconcerned with bad luck.
She had no one left to take care of. Rachel-Ann was happier than she’d ever been in her life, surrounded by her huge, extended family of in-laws. If Rachel-Ann missed the brother she only knew she had for a few hours, then Consuelo and the cousins made up for it. As did the child growing within her.
And Dean had blossomed. Smooth, sure of himself, though still attached at the hip to his beloved computer, he didn’t need her at all. The only creature who seemed to need her was Roofus, and even he was getting tired of the small apartment.
She braced herself as she opened the door, waiting for Roofus to bound out in an excess of canine enthusiasm, but instead she heard a soft, plaintive woof from within the dark confines of the apartment.
She dropped the bag of groceries, stumbling into the living room in sudden panic, calling his name. Only to find him sitting peacefully, his tail wagging, his huge head on Coltrane’s lap.
Eight months. Eight months without a word, and there he sat, in the middle of her new apartment.
“How did