Page 17 of If She Only Knew (The Cahills 1)

Carmen smiled. “It’s just part of the job,” she said, pumping his hand with a surprisingly firm handshake. “Glad to meet you.”

“Same here.”

Eugenia was already speaking into the phone, her eyes, behind wire-rimmed glasses, focused on Nick. “Yes, but . . . Nick said . . . yes, well . . .” She let out a long, defeated breath. “I suppose you’re right.” For as long as he could remember his mother had deferred to a man, first to his father and then to Alex. He guessed it was happening again.

“Fine. Yes . . . you want to talk to him? . . . No? . . .” She shook her head in Nick’s direction to silently tell him he was off the hook. For the moment. “That’ll be all right, then. Yes. We’ll be here . . .” She clicked off the phone and set it on a beveled glass table. Her lips twitching downward, she glanced at her watch. “He’s on his way home from the hospital. Unfortunately, Marla didn’t waken again.”

“What?” Nick scowled. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. Alex said she was totally unresponsive. Not only to Alex, but to the nurses and Dr. Robertson as well.” Eugenia’s shoulders drooped a bit and she stared out the window. “I suppose this is to be expected.”

“Like hell.”

She lifted a plucked, gray eyebrow. “Swearing won’t help.”

“Sure it will,” he grumbled as Carmen, who had obviously been lingering on the other side of the archway, came back into the room.

“I didn’t want to disturb you earlier when you were resting,” she said to Eugenia as she picked up the phone and stuffed it into her pocket. “I took messages and left them on Mr. Cahill’s desk in the den.”

“Do you remember who they were?”

“Mrs. Lindquist again and Mrs. Favier.”

“Cherise,” Eugenia said icily. “Of course. Anyone else?”

“Someone from a newspaper and an attorney, a woman, who said she represented Mrs. Delacroix’s estate.”

“Wonderful,” his mother said, the little lines around her mouth more evident as she pursed her lips. “Just what we need. Well, Mr. Cahill will deal with them when he gets home.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Carmen, would you mind getting me some tea . . . Nick, anything?”

“Maybe later.”

“It’ll just be few minutes.” Carmen flashed a quick smile and hustled toward the kitchen.

“Efficient girl, but we’re going to lose her,” Eugenia observed. “She’s going to night school, studying to be a bilingual teacher. It was my suggestion that she continue her education, after I met her at Cahill House . . . well, you know about that.”

Of course he did. Cahill House had been established nearly a hundred years ago for girls who found themselves “in trouble.” A board of directors ran the philanthropic establishment and a Cahill had always been chairman of the board. Some things just didn’t change. And that, in Nick’s opinion, was the problem. Samuel had served on the board and now so did Alex. A large donation was made every year in the Cahill name.

“I wish people would quit calling. Everyone knows Marla’s still in the hospital . . . oh, well, Joanna Lindquist’s a friend, but a horrid gossip and I suppose you can’t stop attorneys and then there’s Cherise . . .” Eugenia’s eyes met Nick’s. “I assume that Alex told you that Fenton’s children are coming around again.” She rested her chin on her hand and Nick noticed the age spots, evidence that his mother wasn’t too stubborn to grow old.

“I heard. Cherise even tracked me down. Wants to see Marla.”

“I’ll bet. If she does, there’s a reason behind it, let me tell you. I’ve never really believed in the old ‘bad blood’ theory, but those two are enough to change my mind.” She pushed herself out of her chair and walked stiffly to the window where Nick was sitting. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it. Alex will have to deal with Monty and Cherise. If they want to sue us, so be it. They haven’t a leg to stand on.” Straightening the hem of her suit jacket, she added, “They’re like vultures around a dying lamb, you know.”

“Except no one’s dying,” he said, making sure he caught her drift.

“Not yet,” she teased with a deep chuckle as she took her chair again and Carmen brought the tea service, poured Eugenia a cup and, after asking if she needed anything else, left.

“Tea?” Eugenia asked, as there were extra cups on the tray.

“No thanks. I think I need something stronger.”

“Help yourself.” She took up her cup.

“Later.” Nick walked to the fireplace and from beneath Eugenia’s chair came a low, nervous growl.

“I wondered when she’d come to life,” his mother said, then leaned over the arm of her chair. “Coco, hush!”

A little scruff of a white-haired dog stuck its nose out of the shadows. Glittering black eyes regarded Nick with distrust. Again the tiny beast growled.

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