Read Online A Question of Pride by Michelle Reid - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michelle Reid
Tags: Romance
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mother revealed her news before Clea could conjure up the right words to broach her own problem.
They had reached the coffee stage after a superb meal, unspoiled by guilty confessions. The conversation had been pleasant and relaxed, with only the three of them at the table to enjoy the intimacy of soft lighting and beautifully prepared food. Clea had just been dragging her courage together in readiness to break her news, when Amy excused herself from the table and disappeared out of the room for a moment, coming back with a long envelope that looked faintly ominous, which she placed in front of her daughter. Then she stopped Clea from looking inside by placing a dainty hand over hers.
'The first of my surprises,' she announced smilingly. 'You will be twenty-one years old in a month's time.'
Clea's eyes widened. So she would be! The magic number! People officially 'came of age' at eighteen these days, yet the old tradition still lingered in most people's hearts as the 'real' age to receive the proverbial key of the door.
'This—' Amy tapped the envelope '—is by way of an early birthday present ... Open it,' she allowed at last. 'And then I'll explain properly.'
Baffled, Clea picked up the envelope, slowly drew out the high quality paper and opened it out with decidedly shaky fingers. A long and complex-looking official document lay on the table before her, and Clea's puzzlement increased as she stared at it, unable at present to make head or tail of the elegantly scripted words printed on it.
She lifted a bemused gaze to her stepfather for insight. 'What is it?' she appealed breathlessly. 'I don't understand ...'
James was smiling at her, his blue eyes gentle, and as if by second nature he reached out to clasp one of Amy's hands. 'It's an endowment policy,' he enlightened gently. 'Taken out in your name, at the time of your birth, by your father.'
Clea stared blankly at him for the moment it took for those words to sink in, then shifted her gaze to the document—and felt a sudden flush of love run through her.
'When he—your father—died,' James went on quietly, 'your mother continued the payments. It matures on your twenty-first birthday.'
'I-for me?' she repeated huskily. 'Daddy took this out for me?'
'You know what he was like, darling,' her mother put in warmly. 'So old-fashioned and—and Italian! It was meant, I think, as a dowry, outmoded in this day and age, I know, but it was what he intended and I was determined to carry through his wishes.'
Clea saw, through her own blur of tears, how Amy's eyes had glazed with soft but sad memories.
'Oh—Mummy!' she choked, clutching that tiny hand that held on to her own. It was too much—too much! And coming at a time when she felt she had let her beautiful parents down!
'The reason I'm telling you about it,' Amy went on more briskly, 'is because I need your signature to release the money the endowment has accrued.' Then, when Clea remained too full up to say anything, Amy squeezed her hand and said huskily, 'This has nothing to do with James and I ... It is your father's gift, given to you with all his love.'
'How will I ever thank him?' Clea sobbed, crying quietly and without restraint.
'In your heart, darling,' Amy answered gently. 'He'll hear your thanks there.'
James simply listened and looked on, faintly envious of the deceased man who could still command this much love from his family. After allowing the two women to weep for a while, he took in a deep breath, then broke into the emotional storm with a delicate clearing of his throat. 'You haven't even asked how much,' he pointed out mockingly.
'I don't care,' she replied on a sniff, then broke into a husky giggle. 'How much?' she then asked immediately, her eyes twinkling at James.
He named a figure that shocked her into stillness. She heard little of James's knowledgeable explanation on how some endowment policies accrued money by wise investing throughout the years; all Clea could think of was
They had reached the coffee stage after a superb meal, unspoiled by guilty confessions. The conversation had been pleasant and relaxed, with only the three of them at the table to enjoy the intimacy of soft lighting and beautifully prepared food. Clea had just been dragging her courage together in readiness to break her news, when Amy excused herself from the table and disappeared out of the room for a moment, coming back with a long envelope that looked faintly ominous, which she placed in front of her daughter. Then she stopped Clea from looking inside by placing a dainty hand over hers.
'The first of my surprises,' she announced smilingly. 'You will be twenty-one years old in a month's time.'
Clea's eyes widened. So she would be! The magic number! People officially 'came of age' at eighteen these days, yet the old tradition still lingered in most people's hearts as the 'real' age to receive the proverbial key of the door.
'This—' Amy tapped the envelope '—is by way of an early birthday present ... Open it,' she allowed at last. 'And then I'll explain properly.'
Baffled, Clea picked up the envelope, slowly drew out the high quality paper and opened it out with decidedly shaky fingers. A long and complex-looking official document lay on the table before her, and Clea's puzzlement increased as she stared at it, unable at present to make head or tail of the elegantly scripted words printed on it.
She lifted a bemused gaze to her stepfather for insight. 'What is it?' she appealed breathlessly. 'I don't understand ...'
James was smiling at her, his blue eyes gentle, and as if by second nature he reached out to clasp one of Amy's hands. 'It's an endowment policy,' he enlightened gently. 'Taken out in your name, at the time of your birth, by your father.'
Clea stared blankly at him for the moment it took for those words to sink in, then shifted her gaze to the document—and felt a sudden flush of love run through her.
'When he—your father—died,' James went on quietly, 'your mother continued the payments. It matures on your twenty-first birthday.'
'I-for me?' she repeated huskily. 'Daddy took this out for me?'
'You know what he was like, darling,' her mother put in warmly. 'So old-fashioned and—and Italian! It was meant, I think, as a dowry, outmoded in this day and age, I know, but it was what he intended and I was determined to carry through his wishes.'
Clea saw, through her own blur of tears, how Amy's eyes had glazed with soft but sad memories.
'Oh—Mummy!' she choked, clutching that tiny hand that held on to her own. It was too much—too much! And coming at a time when she felt she had let her beautiful parents down!
'The reason I'm telling you about it,' Amy went on more briskly, 'is because I need your signature to release the money the endowment has accrued.' Then, when Clea remained too full up to say anything, Amy squeezed her hand and said huskily, 'This has nothing to do with James and I ... It is your father's gift, given to you with all his love.'
'How will I ever thank him?' Clea sobbed, crying quietly and without restraint.
'In your heart, darling,' Amy answered gently. 'He'll hear your thanks there.'
James simply listened and looked on, faintly envious of the deceased man who could still command this much love from his family. After allowing the two women to weep for a while, he took in a deep breath, then broke into the emotional storm with a delicate clearing of his throat. 'You haven't even asked how much,' he pointed out mockingly.
'I don't care,' she replied on a sniff, then broke into a husky giggle. 'How much?' she then asked immediately, her eyes twinkling at James.
He named a figure that shocked her into stillness. She heard little of James's knowledgeable explanation on how some endowment policies accrued money by wise investing throughout the years; all Clea could think of was
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