Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [160]
Maybe this was a wild goose chase. A mistake.
She walked to the den. Switching on Marquise’s computer, she waited for the machine to boot up, then dialed Connie in L.A. in the hopes of connecting with Becca. The computer went through its start-up procedure, the monitor glowing as the phone rang several times only to be answered by a machine. Rather than leave a message, she hung up. “So far you’re batting a thousand,” she told herself, trying to fight an overwhelming sense of disappointment.
She missed Becca terribly. But it was probably one-sided. Though Becca was starting to come around, it seemed, and though the seductive luster of L.A. had begun to fade, even a bit, in Becca’s eyes, the ravine between mother and daughter seemed impossible to bridge at times.
“Pull yourself together.” The cold dark house was beginning to get to her. She had to pull herself together. Glancing at her watch, she bit her lip and prayed that she and Mary Theresa would connect, the mystery surrounding her disappearance and Renee Nielsen’s death would be solved, and she could return to Idaho where she and her daughter could resume their normal, if very dull, lives. Right now, dull sounded like heaven.
And what about Thane? she asked as she sat in a desk chair and stared at the monitor where the few icons of Marquise’s programs decorated the screen. What are you going to do about him?
“Nothing.” But she dialed the number of the hotel and left a message in their suite telling him where she’d gone and that she’d be back soon. She didn’t want him to worry about her, then decided she was a fool of the worst order. Oh, he cared for her a little—but not enough, not the way she loved him. She closed her eyes for a second and tried to deny her feelings, but she’d only be lying to herself. She loved Thane Walker. Pure and simple. She always had. Even during the duration of her stormy marriage to Dean McCrae.
Guilt crowded into her mind. “Fool,” she muttered. Thane would never love her. He didn’t have the capacity, and there was always Mary Theresa; like a ghost she came between them, even when they were pressed together, naked body to naked body. Mary Theresa had been in the bed with them.
“Stop it!” Her case of nerves was getting to her. “Sheesh, Maggie, you’re a head case,” she chastised, opening a program and eyeing Marquise’s address book.
Now Thane had a son, a boy he’d never met, Mary Theresa’s child…why that thought hurt so badly, she didn’t understand. She told herself to get over it. Aside from his on-again/off-again relationship with Mary Theresa, he also had a girlfriend in Wyoming—Carrie Whatever. Even if that was truly over there was the other issue.
And he’s never stopped loving your sister.
Maggie’s throat ached and she refused to think of Thane and the emotions that burned so bright in her heart. She couldn’t love him. Wouldn’t. It served no purpose whatsoever and would only cause her heartache. So she’d kissed him again. So she’d touched him. Made love to him. So what? People did it all the time. There wasn’t anything special or magical about it.
Get over it, she told herself as she began going through Marquise’s files again, although the sense that she was trespassing gave her pause.
She scrolled down the address list, viewed the tax file and financial statement. With a sinking feeling she realized just how horribly in debt her sister was, how desperate her financial situation had become. Back taxes, credit-card bills, overdue lease payments, foreclosure notices on her place in Aspen and this very house.
“No wonder she ran away,” Maggie said, playing with the computer, cross-indexing—trying to find any match for Renee Nielsen. No Nielsens whatsoever. But there was another Renee. Renee Warner. Maggie felt a tingle at the nape of her neck, the sense that she was about to find something, something she didn’t want to see. With deft fingers, she scrolled down, double checked, did a file search and found no