Read Online Children of Dynasty by Christine Carroll - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Carroll
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the Grant Plaza construction trailer, I heard the men talking about a welder, a guy gone missing?”
“I haven’t heard that.” She made a mental note to find out.
“Ah.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but subsided again into silence.
After a moment, he touched the bandage over her left eye so gently she barely felt it. “Take care of yourself. Since I can’t.”
Though he wasn’t pressing her against the wall, he was close enough that she dared to imagine him taking one tiny step closer. Glancing up, she caught him looking at her mouth.
The gossip columns said he was a notorious skirt chaser, but she felt safe, and alive with the strumming tension between them. It might be in the worst possible taste to feel this way when Charley lay dead, but she’d heard losing someone brought out the survival instinct. Maybe the Irish had it right, a wake with music, dance and drinking. Before she knew she had made a decision, Mariah raised her hand and placed her fingertips against Rory’s lips. The shaking that had troubled her for days had gone.
He exhaled softly. “I know this is not the time or place, but … later.” The last word was rich with promise.
From outside the chapel came a racket of heels on the stone floor. A filtered female voice reached them. “I’ll show you where we have the services.”
“Come on.” Rory grabbed Mariah’s hand.
They exited the other side of the chapel before the first door opened. In the hall, the lights seemed too bright.
“Let’s go someplace,” Rory urged.
“I can’t. I drove my father.”
“Then tomorrow. We’ll go sailing on the Bay.”
“You must be out of your mind.”
“Then go crazy with me.” His eyes were dark velvet.
“The funeral is at ten in the morning.”
“And we’ll both be there.” He grimaced. “But watching them put Charley in the ground isn’t my idea of a proper tribute. He’d rather that tomorrow afternoon we were out on the water, thinking about the time he was with us.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going on your father’s …”
“We’re taking my boat.” He grabbed both her hands. “I want to show it to you.”
“I don’t know, Rory …”
Yearning surged. Concern over family feuds and real estate seemed petty when life could end so randomly. She thought of Tom Barrett’s gambling and knew each choice, no matter how small, was a dice roll, like letting Charley and Andrew Green take the hoist first.
Was she ready to roll her own dice?
CHAPTER 5
E l Camino Real was the street where San Francisco buried her dead. Monument companies, their lawns covered with sample tombstones, did business cheek by jowl with private Italian, Jewish, and Chinese cemeteries, as well as the larger multi-ethnic memorial parks.
Mariah stared out the side window of the limousine on the way to Charley’s grave. Today was another of what her father called a perfect, sharp blue day. He and she rode with Charley’s parents, both Tom and Wendy red-eyed from weeping.
The procession entered Cypress Lawn Cemetery through a granite archway. Marble mausoleums marked the resting places of the wealthy, while fields paved with flat stones stretched away toward the edges of the hillside park. The limousine pulled up near the highest point of the burial ground where a crowd waited beside the open grave. Rumpled crimson carpet ineffectively camouflaged the irregular mound of earth.
Mariah and her father emerged from the car, and he offered his arm. Placing her hand above his elbow, she wondered who needed to lean on whom. After four terrible nights of silence from Charley’s empty apartment, it was beginning to sink in that he’d not be back.
Approaching the graveside, she caught sight of Rory standing straight and alone, sunlight gleaming on his hair. Though she’d seen him only last night, her heart quickened. Thankfully, she didn’t see his father.
Mariah and John took a seat with Tom and Wendy beneath a canvas
“I haven’t heard that.” She made a mental note to find out.
“Ah.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but subsided again into silence.
After a moment, he touched the bandage over her left eye so gently she barely felt it. “Take care of yourself. Since I can’t.”
Though he wasn’t pressing her against the wall, he was close enough that she dared to imagine him taking one tiny step closer. Glancing up, she caught him looking at her mouth.
The gossip columns said he was a notorious skirt chaser, but she felt safe, and alive with the strumming tension between them. It might be in the worst possible taste to feel this way when Charley lay dead, but she’d heard losing someone brought out the survival instinct. Maybe the Irish had it right, a wake with music, dance and drinking. Before she knew she had made a decision, Mariah raised her hand and placed her fingertips against Rory’s lips. The shaking that had troubled her for days had gone.
He exhaled softly. “I know this is not the time or place, but … later.” The last word was rich with promise.
From outside the chapel came a racket of heels on the stone floor. A filtered female voice reached them. “I’ll show you where we have the services.”
“Come on.” Rory grabbed Mariah’s hand.
They exited the other side of the chapel before the first door opened. In the hall, the lights seemed too bright.
“Let’s go someplace,” Rory urged.
“I can’t. I drove my father.”
“Then tomorrow. We’ll go sailing on the Bay.”
“You must be out of your mind.”
“Then go crazy with me.” His eyes were dark velvet.
“The funeral is at ten in the morning.”
“And we’ll both be there.” He grimaced. “But watching them put Charley in the ground isn’t my idea of a proper tribute. He’d rather that tomorrow afternoon we were out on the water, thinking about the time he was with us.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going on your father’s …”
“We’re taking my boat.” He grabbed both her hands. “I want to show it to you.”
“I don’t know, Rory …”
Yearning surged. Concern over family feuds and real estate seemed petty when life could end so randomly. She thought of Tom Barrett’s gambling and knew each choice, no matter how small, was a dice roll, like letting Charley and Andrew Green take the hoist first.
Was she ready to roll her own dice?
CHAPTER 5
E l Camino Real was the street where San Francisco buried her dead. Monument companies, their lawns covered with sample tombstones, did business cheek by jowl with private Italian, Jewish, and Chinese cemeteries, as well as the larger multi-ethnic memorial parks.
Mariah stared out the side window of the limousine on the way to Charley’s grave. Today was another of what her father called a perfect, sharp blue day. He and she rode with Charley’s parents, both Tom and Wendy red-eyed from weeping.
The procession entered Cypress Lawn Cemetery through a granite archway. Marble mausoleums marked the resting places of the wealthy, while fields paved with flat stones stretched away toward the edges of the hillside park. The limousine pulled up near the highest point of the burial ground where a crowd waited beside the open grave. Rumpled crimson carpet ineffectively camouflaged the irregular mound of earth.
Mariah and her father emerged from the car, and he offered his arm. Placing her hand above his elbow, she wondered who needed to lean on whom. After four terrible nights of silence from Charley’s empty apartment, it was beginning to sink in that he’d not be back.
Approaching the graveside, she caught sight of Rory standing straight and alone, sunlight gleaming on his hair. Though she’d seen him only last night, her heart quickened. Thankfully, she didn’t see his father.
Mariah and John took a seat with Tom and Wendy beneath a canvas
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