Read Online Everything to Gain by Barbara Taylor Bradford - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Taylor Bradford
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thinking about certain aspects of the agency. I know Jack Underwood and Harvey Colton would like me to have a go at Joe. Actually, Mal, they deem it high time he retired, and I'm afraid I have to agree with them. On the other hand, he is the last of the original founding quartet, the only one still alive, and something of an industry giant. It's going to be a tough situation to deal with."
I reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you've decided to talk to Joe. I've wanted you to do that for the longest time, and it'll work out, you'll see. Now, do you want another drink, or shall we go inside and I'll make supper?"
He nodded. "I'm starving! What's on the menu?"
"I was going to prepare spaghetti and a green salad for myself, but if you prefer something else, I can defrost—"
"No, no," he interrupted, "that sounds great. Come on, let's go inside and I'll help you."
Much later, when we had finished dinner and were drinking the last of the wine, Andrew said, "You remember that time my mother talked to you about the only man she'd been seriously attracted to since my father's death?"
"Of course I do. She said he was separated but not divorced—"
"And therefore verboten as far as she was concerned," Andrew interjected.
"That's right. But why are you bringing this up now?"
"I think that man might be your father."
I gaped at him. I was so taken aback I was momentarily speechless. Quickly I found my voice. "That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard, Andrew. What on earth makes you think such a thing all of a sudden?" I knew he had to have a good reason for this comment, since my husband was not given to flights of fancy, and least of all where his mother was concerned.
Clearing his throat, he explained, "Last Tuesday morning, after you'd gone out and just before I left for Chicago, I asked my mother if she could change a hundred-dollar bill for me. She told me to get her wallet out of her handbag in her bedroom. So I did, but there was an envelope caught in the flap and it fell to the floor. When I picked it up I couldn't help noticing your father's name on the back and his return address in Jerusalem. I thought it a bit odd that he was writing to my mother. Anyway, I put the envelope back in her bag and took the wallet to her. Obviously I didn't say anything. How could I?"
I sat back in my chair, frowning. "It does seem strange," I murmured. "But it might be quite innocent."
"That's true. I sort of dismissed it myself as being a trifle farfetched, but the other night in Chicago I got to thinking about them, and all sorts of little things kept cropping up in my mind."
"Such as what?" I asked, leaning over the table, pinning my eyes on his.
"Edward's behavior, for one thing. He's very solicitous, gallant with her, and a bit flirtatious, I'd say."
"Oh, come on, he isn't! He's actually quite distant with Diana. No, remote is a better word. And cool, almost cold even."
"He's really only like that when your mother is present, on those family occasions when we're all together for a short while. Then he is rather…" Andrew paused, and I could see him mentally groping for the right word. "Strained," he finished.
I pondered what he had said, staring down into my glass of red wine.
Andrew pressed on: "Listen, Mal, consider the times when he's been in London with us and the twins and Diana. Really think about them. There's a change in him. A subtle change, I have to admit, and it's not noticeable unless one is looking for it, but there is a change, nonetheless."
I cast my mind back to those occasions in the past to which Andrew was referring when seemingly quite coincidentally my father had had archaeological business in London at the same time we were there. Now I wondered how coincidental those visits of his had been. Perhaps they had been carefully planned so that we could all be together like one big happy family. Also, looking back, I realized how eager he always was to come to Yorkshire with us. I
I reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you've decided to talk to Joe. I've wanted you to do that for the longest time, and it'll work out, you'll see. Now, do you want another drink, or shall we go inside and I'll make supper?"
He nodded. "I'm starving! What's on the menu?"
"I was going to prepare spaghetti and a green salad for myself, but if you prefer something else, I can defrost—"
"No, no," he interrupted, "that sounds great. Come on, let's go inside and I'll help you."
Much later, when we had finished dinner and were drinking the last of the wine, Andrew said, "You remember that time my mother talked to you about the only man she'd been seriously attracted to since my father's death?"
"Of course I do. She said he was separated but not divorced—"
"And therefore verboten as far as she was concerned," Andrew interjected.
"That's right. But why are you bringing this up now?"
"I think that man might be your father."
I gaped at him. I was so taken aback I was momentarily speechless. Quickly I found my voice. "That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard, Andrew. What on earth makes you think such a thing all of a sudden?" I knew he had to have a good reason for this comment, since my husband was not given to flights of fancy, and least of all where his mother was concerned.
Clearing his throat, he explained, "Last Tuesday morning, after you'd gone out and just before I left for Chicago, I asked my mother if she could change a hundred-dollar bill for me. She told me to get her wallet out of her handbag in her bedroom. So I did, but there was an envelope caught in the flap and it fell to the floor. When I picked it up I couldn't help noticing your father's name on the back and his return address in Jerusalem. I thought it a bit odd that he was writing to my mother. Anyway, I put the envelope back in her bag and took the wallet to her. Obviously I didn't say anything. How could I?"
I sat back in my chair, frowning. "It does seem strange," I murmured. "But it might be quite innocent."
"That's true. I sort of dismissed it myself as being a trifle farfetched, but the other night in Chicago I got to thinking about them, and all sorts of little things kept cropping up in my mind."
"Such as what?" I asked, leaning over the table, pinning my eyes on his.
"Edward's behavior, for one thing. He's very solicitous, gallant with her, and a bit flirtatious, I'd say."
"Oh, come on, he isn't! He's actually quite distant with Diana. No, remote is a better word. And cool, almost cold even."
"He's really only like that when your mother is present, on those family occasions when we're all together for a short while. Then he is rather…" Andrew paused, and I could see him mentally groping for the right word. "Strained," he finished.
I pondered what he had said, staring down into my glass of red wine.
Andrew pressed on: "Listen, Mal, consider the times when he's been in London with us and the twins and Diana. Really think about them. There's a change in him. A subtle change, I have to admit, and it's not noticeable unless one is looking for it, but there is a change, nonetheless."
I cast my mind back to those occasions in the past to which Andrew was referring when seemingly quite coincidentally my father had had archaeological business in London at the same time we were there. Now I wondered how coincidental those visits of his had been. Perhaps they had been carefully planned so that we could all be together like one big happy family. Also, looking back, I realized how eager he always was to come to Yorkshire with us. I
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