Silver Falls - Anne Stuart [46]
“There’s no particular hurry, is there? You don’t want to give Sophie the impression that you’re running away, do you?”
“Of course not.” Her smile was brittle.
“That settles it, then. I’ll make arrangements for someone to cover my classes next week, and I’ll even call Sophie’s school for you and tell them she may be taking some extra time off. We can be gone for a week.”
“I can handle it,” she said.
“Of course you can.” His voice was soothing.
“But that’s what I’m here for—to make things easier on you. In the meantime, if you wouldn’t mind going to visit my father tomorrow I know he’d appreciate it. He’s an old man, darling. He needs the company, and you know how he thrives on gossip. I expect he’s going to grill you about Caleb, not to mention the recent murders.”
“Just how I wanted to spend my afternoon,” Rachel said. “I’ll need to leave by two-thirty to pick Sophie up—”
“I’ve already made arrangements. I’ll pick her up—you stay and entertain my father.”
She considered pointing out that Stephen Henry was a preening old bastard, and she preferred to take care of her daughter herself, but she was learning tact, slowly but surely. Besides, David was still pushing for the adoption, and Rachel had no intention of hurrying. She could put up with Stephen Henry’s nonstop monologue on his favorite subject, himself, for the sake of family harmony. At least David wasn’t objecting to her leaving, even if he wanted her to wait. She could do that much.
“Thanks anyway, but I’d rather pick her up,” she said. “I’ll have plenty of time to visit with Stephen Henry and then make it to the school. I wouldn’t want to put you to any extra trouble.”
“It wouldn’t be—”
“I’ll take care of it.” She couldn’t keep the slight edge out of her voice.
“Of course,” he murmured, and once more she felt guilty. He’d only been trying to help. “Good night, dear,” he murmured.
She resisted the impulse to slam her bedroom door behind her. The bed was neatly made, the hundred pillows she liked tossed on top of it. She was exhausted, but her feet were dirty, and a hot shower would probably help her sleep. She stripped off her clothes, leaving them lying on the spotless hardwood, simply because she knew she could, knew that David wouldn’t come in and start scooping them up and hanging them in her neatly organized closet.
The hot water beat down on her skin, and the room filled with steam. She turned her face up to the showerhead, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.
And all she could think about was Caleb.
“The door’s unlocked!” Stephen Henry’s deep voice came from the old house, and, steeling herself, Rachel pushed it open, stepping inside. He was sitting in the living room, his books, his coffee, everything he needed at hand, a cashmere throw over his useless legs.
“Come and give an old man a kiss,” he said.
She bent down and clinked cheeks with him, both sides, European style, as he demanded, and with-drew before he could prolong it. “Where’s Dylan?”
“I gave him the day off. He’s already made lunch for us, and I told him you could serve us.”
Of course you did, Rachel thought. “Happy to,” she lied, taking a seat far enough away so he couldn’t grab her knee. He liked to touch women, which was one strong reason why she didn’t make any effort to get Sophie to like him any better. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him.
She just didn’t trust him.
“What’s up?” she said.
“Ah, this younger generation,” Stephen Henry said, blithely ignoring the fact that he was the forefront of the baby boom. “Always in such a hurry. Why can’t we be civilized, talk about art and literature for a bit?” He always pronounced it “litrachur” in particularly affected tones, which annoyed her to no end. Particularly since David had picked it up.
“S.H., I’ve got film to develop,” she said in her sweetest possible voice. “Much as I adore spending time with you, it’s sometimes difficult. Weekends are usually better, but David said this was a royal summons, so here I am, your loyal