Another Woman's Son (Harlequin Romance) Page 13

  Isabel shut the door with zest. “Back in battle mode?”

  “You and Will intended to end your marriage. Surely I’m more entitled to my son’s things than you.”

  Normally as warm and fuzzy as a porcupine, Will’s death seemed to have sent Leah over an unhealthy edge. Isabel smiled—with a touch of rage. “He didn’t mention giving you everything he owned in his will, but I’m in the middle of sorting his socks. Maybe you’d like to finish?”

  Leah whirled, and the coat spread with a dramatic flourish she would have loved to see in a mirror. Her concern had nothing to do with Isabel’s sarcasm. “What are you doing with his clothing?”

  “Packing them for Goodwill. What would you do with his clothes?”

  “He was my son, Isabel.” Her pain was real—and savage. The suffering of any mother who’d lost her son. Leah would never be Isabel’s best friend, but she couldn’t turn her back on the other woman’s pain. Especially since it seemed to be having an unhinging effect.

  “You should have come to the funeral, Leah. You needed to say goodbye.” She’d never run Will’s life again. He’d evaded her clutches once and for all.

  “I’m here now. Why don’t I finish his room for you?”

  “No.” Her short surge of sympathy faded. No Barker would ever steamroll her again. “We can work together if you like. I still have things in our room, as well.”

  “What are you doing with your belongings?”

  “Culling whatever I won’t need in a smaller place.” She started up the stairs ahead of Leah, biting her tongue instead of reminding Will’s mom her own belongings were off-limits. “Feel free to hang your coat in the closet.”

  “I’ll keep it. This place feels like ice. You can’t afford to heat?”

  Isabel looked up at the tall ceilings, down at the cold, marble-topped table and the roses that hadn’t been changed since she’d released the cleaning woman three days ago. Then she stared at her own pinkish hands. “I didn’t notice.”

  Leah paused at the upstairs thermostat to turn up the heat. Isabel hurried, using the moment to keep back one of Will’s watches and a platinum signet ring he’d worn often. She wanted them for Tony since they’d meant something to his birth father.

  Leah stopped in the bedroom doorway. “What are you taking?”

  Like a thief caught in the act, Isabel turned from the small cedar box where Will had kept his jewelry. “I’m giving Tony a couple of pieces.”

  “Tony? He was only Will’s nephew.”

  Isabel saw red. She’d had no idea that could actually happen, but a scarlet haze formed around Leah. She didn’t understand the woman’s determination to own everything her son had touched.

  “Where do you plan to stay, Leah?”

  “Not here?”

  “I’m still at Ben’s.”

  “I don’t mind sleeping in my child’s house alone.”

  Isabel had always backed down when Leah took this kind of stance because Will hated scenes, but even Leah had never been so audacious.

  “You’ll be more comfortable in a hotel.” Isabel made sure Leah knew she was serious. “I’ll make a reservation for you.”

  “No—”

  “No problem at all.” Isabel interpreted Leah’s beginning to her own advantage. She slipped the watch and ring she’d chosen into her pocket and went to the phone. Getting the number for a nearby hotel was easy. She made a reservation for Leah. Isabel left it open-ended, though she’d love to send the woman packing this very minute.

  By the time she turned, Leah had already closed the lid on the cedar box and slid it to one end of the long dresser, staking her claim.

  “Leah, you and I are going to argue if you don’t control your possessiveness.”

  “You were divorcing my son.”

  “He sent no papers, and I never filed. I’ve already returned every object you put in our hands.”

  “I want my son’s things, too. I have nothing to remember him by.”

  Her strident voice cracked. Isabel wanted to be anywhere but in this house. “I’m trying to understand, but you’re being selfish.” And extreme enough to make Isabel wary.

  Tears wet Leah’s cheeks. She covered her face with her hands. The precious gems her husband had given her throughout their marriage glittered on her fingers. She’d always worn her net worth. “I loved him, Isabel. You obviously didn’t at the end. Why should you keep the things he loved?”

  Isabel felt like a fool—again. She’d tried to soften toward Leah after the other woman’s talk of staying close. The Barkers always managed to dupe her. “I don’t want anything. I’ve only kept a few of Will’s things for Tony. And you know he loved our nephew with all his heart.”

  Leah nodded, but her head moved as if it weighed about four tons. “I should have first claim. By the time he died, I was his closest relation.”

  Bitter words tickled the tip of Isabel’s tongue. Will would have burned everything he’d owned before he’d have left it to Leah. He’d always felt she’d surrounded him like an affectionate python.

  Isabel hung to her temper, barely. “Choose anything you want from these boxes and bags. Goodwill picks up the rest tomorrow.”

  Leah’s own anger flashed, so near hatred Isabel stepped back. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll go downstairs.” A shower to flush off the venom would be impractical. “Take what you want.”

  Here was her mom at home, doing anything to get to know Tony better, cooking and cleaning no matter how many times Ben tried to persuade her to relax. Of course, she already knew Tony was her grandson. But Leah’s behavior—smash and grab—made a better case for Ben than anything he’d ever suggested.

  She was crossing the hall when the doorbell rang again. She opened up to cool air and a tall man in a perfect suit. Lovely bronze-and-red-striped tie. Tanning-bed complexion.

  “Ms. Jordan?”

  Faith’s name. Isabel grabbed the doorjamb. Pain, hah. She’d suffered nothing before this moment. This smarmy-looking man expected Faith to be at home in her house.

  He went on. “I’m Neal Lofton. Mr. Barker told me to expect you’d be here. I’ve come to value the house.” He slipped her a business card as if he were passing her the keys to the kingdom.

  She stared at the card, but she couldn’t even read his name. All she could focus on was Leah, upstairs, longing to own all of Will’s prized possessions. She’d love to take over the sale of this house.

  “Barker.” She barely managed to say her own name. Apparently, her answer confused Mr. Lofton. He stared as if she’d sprouted a few spare heads. She felt as if hers had swollen, along with her tongue. “I’m Isabel Barker. I can’t talk right now. I have a visitor upstairs, and my husband passed away last week. Can we meet some other time, please?”

  “Passed— Mr. Barker died?”

  She nodded while the possibilities clicked through Lofton’s gaze like drawings of fruit on a slot machine. “You still own the house, Mrs. Barker? Not Ms. Jordan?”

  “My name is Isabel. Call me, and we’ll meet again. I can’t talk now.” Her manners stretched to breaking point. Beyond. She grabbed the door and swung it. Lofton disappeared behind the highly polished wood.

  “You can’t sell my son’s house.”

  Great. How foolish had she been, thinking she’d get away without Leah overhearing? She’d no doubt rushed to the stairs to eavesdrop.

  “Leah, this is my house. Face it. Will would have had to ask my permission to sell.” She turned, so angry she felt at no disadvantage having to look up at Leah. “We didn’t divorce. We didn’t discuss divorce. I left after my husband told me he loved another woman. That’s where our marriage stood. If you can’t let this fight go I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  Leah considered, visibly weighing her options.

  Isabel clutched the last ounce of civility she might ever muster. She’d never lost a child, but Will had spent his adult life putting up barricades, dodging his mother’s searching grasp.
This was Leah’s last sick struggle to touch the things that had been touched by her son.

  Isabel didn’t understand her, but she’d spent three months wondering why Will hadn’t wanted her, too.

  She headed for the kitchen. There had to be a drink stronger than coffee in those cupboards.

  Instead of searching, Isabel turned to another possible addiction. She picked up the phone and started to dial Ben. He’d understand how the real-estate agent had cut her legs out from under her, and that Leah seemed to have lost her mind. A woman shared these blows with her best friend.

  She set down the phone. A woman only shared if her life hadn’t turned into a bad remake of Peyton Place.

  BEN STUMBLED out of the superstore with a cart full of day-care necessities and Tony, clutching his new SpongeBob sleeping mat. A sleeping mat. Ben had never heard of such a thing, but when a saleslady had shown him and Tony a section filled with them he’d felt incompetent. Most dads should have been able to figure out that one.

  He and Tony had spent the day buying everything on the list the day care had given them. And they’d tacked on an hour in the pediatrician’s office, for a form that certified Tony’d had all his inoculations.

  At the car, Ben opened the back. Tony let go of his mat to grab his matching lunch box and backpack. All SpongeBob all the time.

  “My Iz-bell.” Tony snatched up the sleeping mat again and slapped it into Ben’s face.

  “Isabel’s busy. We can’t show her right now.” Ben peeled the plastic wrap off the mat. If Tony kept hugging it so close, he was liable to smother himself.

  “Bob,” Tony said. “Iz-bell.” He shook the mat. “Iz-bell.”

  Why not? Ben stared at his son, who suddenly seemed older and yet more vulnerable. How was he supposed to turn his small boy over to strangers? This would be a good time to let Isabel reassure him that he wasn’t abandoning Tony.

  He shoved the rest of their purchases into the back of his car and carried Tony to his car seat. Fastening it, he shifted the mat out of range and planted a kiss on his boy’s head.

  “We’ll drive by. If she’s busy, we go home.”

  Tony, all smiles, nodded, but Ben doubted he’d agree to leave without showing all his loot, even if Isabel was entertaining Barker Synthetics’s board.

  In front of her house, Ben spotted Leah’s long, low, luxury car. Slightly mud-spattered but still reeking of good living. “I’m glad you thought of coming, Tony.”

  “Iz-bell!”

  “She’ll need us.”

  Ben parked and turned to the backseat to let his son out. Clutching his mat, Tony stood on the seat and held out both arms for everything else. He clenched and unclenched his reaching fists. “Bob.”

  Searching the windows for screaming women or shattered glass, Ben didn’t respond fast enough.

  “Bob, Daddy.”

  “Okay, Son.” He took the mat and carried Tony to the back of the SUV. He slipped the mat back into the bag and carried boy and SpongeBob plunder to the house, intent on being a buffer between Leah and Isabel.

  He drummed on the door, but then turned the handle and walked straight in.

  “Iz-bell.” Tony’s voice rattled the rafters.

  Ben laughed at his son’s lung power.

  Isabel came out of the kitchen at a run. Ben registered the shock that froze her expression. She scooped his son into her arms and buried her face in his hair as if he were medicine. “Tony,” she said. “Tony, I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Isabel?” Ben had never seen her so upset. He dropped to his knees. “Come here.” As he reached for her, Tony struggled to get to his supplies.

  “Bob,” his son called.

  Isabel refused to lift her head—to look—or to let Ben hold her. He heard footsteps on the landing above.

  “What has that woman done now?”

  Isabel looked up at last and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I knew you’d be on my side.”

  From the landing Leah stared at Ben and Tony as if they were intruders. Ben stared back. He’d love a fight. He’d resented her on Will’s behalf for years. For Isabel, he’d pretty much pitch the woman into the nearest dirty snowbank.

  “I’m always on your side, Isabel.” Locked on Leah’s curious face, he made no effort to hide any of his confusing feelings for her. Let Leah jump to the worst conclusions she could imagine. Isabel needed to know she could trust a man to choose her first.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LEAH DECIDED to go to her hotel soon after Ben arrived. Isabel closed the door behind her former mother-in-law. “Thanks for coming, Ben. You must have heard my telepathic bleats for help.”

  He grinned. She’d never noticed the appeal of his self-conscious smile before, and she tried to resist it now. “I’d like to say I’m that powerful,” he said, “but Tony couldn’t wait to show you his latest SpongeBob haul.”

  She scooped up Tony, who was wrestling with his thermos, and reburied her face in his thick black hair. “I love this boy and his excellent taste,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver, Tony.”

  He peered at her. “Lipesaber,” he said around the top of the thermos.

  “Come with me.” She swung him to the floor again. “We’ll wash that and put some nice juice in it.”

  “Nice juice?” Ben asked behind her, his amusement as warm as a touch.

  “Would I have any other kind?” She tried to look nonchalant. “Really— I want to thank you for helping me fend off Leah. I half expected her to claim squatter’s rights.”

  “She seemed happy enough to go after I told her it was snowing again.” He got close enough to run his hand along Tony’s arm. His fingers trailed over Isabel’s shoulder, too. It might have been an accident. It felt unaccountably good. “We should head home, too,” Ben said. “Since the accident, I’m gun-shy about driving Tony in bad weather.”

  “Sure. I didn’t think.” She hurried into the kitchen and set Tony on the counter as she washed his thermos.

  Ben leaned next to his son. “You’re almost finished. You’ll have to hire a real-estate agent soon.”

  “Not really.” She almost spilled her guts, but remembered just in time that he’d be as hurt as she had been. “A guy came by today. Maybe he has his ear to the Goodwill donation truck routes. He arrived just after Leah, so I asked him to call me later.”

  “You can’t just take some guy who wandered to your door. Selling this house is an investment.”

  She glanced at Tony, unwilling to argue in front of him, but she and Ben had to talk about this. She couldn’t back down—for her nephew’s sake. “This investment belongs to him, too.”

  Spending the day with Leah, she’d formed a hard shell or Ben’s frown might have put her off.

  “I’ve had enough today, Ben. Do what you want with Tony’s money, but I’m putting aside everything that belongs to him. If you won’t take it, I’ll put it in an account under my name, but it’ll be easier to explain if you just accept it now and take charge.”

  “Will made my wife care about him, when I couldn’t get through to her. I feel as if he stole my son. Now you want to blackmail me into accepting money from him?”

  “Blackmail?” His accusation stung. “You could choose a path that gives you options.”

  “Or you can turn him into a trust-fund baby.”

  “He is a trust-fund baby. If you want it to be from his ‘uncle,’ I won’t contradict you, but he’s going to wonder why I hold the purse strings rather than you.” She slicked her hair back only to have it spring into her eyes again. “And I don’t like arguing with you.”

  Ben considered, his mouth thin, his jaw sharp as a knife. “This subject makes us harsh with each other. Why don’t we agree to talk about it sometime before Tony turns eighteen?”

  “I’ll put it off for tonight, but we have to talk soon so I can settle Will’s estate.”

  “We’ll talk.” But he looked as if they’d do that on a cold day in hell. He picked up Tony. “Drive ca
refully, Isabel. The roads may be slick.”

  “I’ll see you at your house.” She emphasized the words, reassuring him that she’d avoid careening into someone else or a light post.

  After Ben and Tony left, she locked up, but still walked out to her car about the same time Ben finished storing Tony’s SpongeBob bounty in the back of theirs. He leaned in to fasten Tony’s car seat. Isabel waited, her engine idling in snowflakes that grew thicker by the minute.

  With a brief nod, he started his car. She followed him home, driving in his tracks. When they parked at his house, she carried the day-care baggage while he cradled Tony, sleeping, in his arms.

  “I shouldn’t have let him fall asleep, but he’s had a busy day.” Barely above a whisper, Ben’s husky tone made Isabel uneasy in her own skin.

  He’d been her best friend. She’d worried about her own marriage, but hadn’t looked elsewhere for comfort. Ben’s voice shouldn’t affect her at all. Still, shimmers of excitement made moments with him worth waiting for.

  Isabel’s mother met them at the door, relief written on her face. “I was worried. Oh, Tony’s asleep.” She dropped to a whisper. “Let me take him, Ben. You put your things away. I’ll ease him awake, feed him and get him to bed.”

  “Amelia, you have to take a break. I know how to care for Tony, and I don’t want you working yourself to the bone.”

  “I can’t do enough for this little guy.” Waking her grandson with the softest kiss, Amelia drew him out of his father’s arms.

  They were rebuilding their family. Isabel recognized the love in her mother’s tone. It had comforted her all her life.

  In return, she was hiding a dark secret about her sister. She trusted her parents to leave Tony with Ben, but they wouldn’t appreciate being lied to any more than she or Ben had.

  “Isabel?” Ben brought her back to the present. “Coming in out of the snow?”

  She looked into his face, this man for whom she was lying to her mother and father. Lines around his eyes and mouth reminded her he was still grieving, still in shock himself. He raised both brows in a wordless inquiry tinged with a warning.