Her mind spun. “What makes you think that?”
“I heard Uncle Mac and Daddy talking, and Daddy said somebody might be trying to scare you. And Uncle Mac said maybe you were imagining it.”
“So that’s what Uncle Mac thinks, is it?” It sounded as if her little chat with the police chief hadn’t gotten her anywhere.
“That’s what he says when I say there’s something under my bed.”
“Well, I’m sure there’s not really anything under your bed.” That had to be the right response, didn’t it? As for the Whiting brothers...
She met Nick’s eyes and realized he’d overheard.
His gaze slid away from hers, and color came up under his tan. “Jamie, it’s not polite to listen to what other people are saying.”
“But, Daddy, you’re always telling me to listen when grown-ups talk.”
Allison’s lips twitched. “I think he has you there.”
Nick’s embarrassment dissolved in a smile. “Sorry. Mac was just, well, trying to figure out the possibilities.”
“I’m sure.” She longed to ask him if he’d meant it when he said someone might be trying to scare her away, but she couldn’t say that in front of the child.
“Daddy, Ally says I can come see her cat anytime.” Jamie was tugging on Nick’s sleeve.
“She does, does she?” Nick looked down at his son, and there was suddenly so much love in his expression that her heart turned over. Nick gave her a questioning glance. “Ally?”
“That’s her nickname,” Jamie said, sounding important. “Her little brothers used to call her that.”
Nick’s brows went up. “I didn’t know you had brothers.”
There was no reason why he should. “Two of them. Half brothers, to be exact. They’re ten years younger than I am. Twins.”
“Wish I was a twin. It would be fun to have someone look just like me.”
“Two of you?” Nick ruffled his hair. “I think one is enough. Look, here’s Grammy.”
Jamie went running to the woman who’d just come in the front door. He hurled himself at her legs. “Grammy, Grammy! I got a star on my spelling homework, and Ally says I can come see her cat anytime I want.”
The woman bent to hug him. “That’s great, Jamie. Do you want to introduce me to your new friend?”
He took her hand and pulled her over. “Ally, this is Grammy.”
“Allison Standish,” Nick murmured.
“I’m Ellen Whiting.” She held out her hand to Allison with a wide smile. “Welcome to Laurel Ridge. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
They were unmistakable, Allison thought, for three generations of one family. Nick had his mother’s eyes, and Jamie her wide, happy smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ellen. Jamie has been telling me about his family.”
“Telling you all the family secrets, no doubt.” She smiled. “Not that any of them are very secret. Jamie loves to chatter, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Jamie’s grin echoed hers, and he nodded.
“Now, Allison, we have to get better acquainted. Goodness, I remember your father from when we were in elementary school together. You must come and have supper with us one night.”
“That...that’s very nice of you.” But she wasn’t sure she wanted to get any further involved with the Whiting family. They, like everyone else, had a vested interest in any decisions she made about Blackburn House.
“Good.” Ellen seemed to take that as an acceptance, though she hadn’t meant it that way. “What about tonight?”
“I’m afraid I have something else going on this evening.” She wasn’t particularly looking forward to Brenda’s cocktail party, but it was a valid excuse.
“Tomorrow night, then,” Ellen said, her tone brisk and decided. “Nick will pick you up at five o’clock. We eat early with a little guy in the house.”
“I don’t...” She wasn’t sure which to tackle first. “There’s no reason for Nick to drive me. Just give me your address and I’ll set the GPS.”
“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. Nick will be delighted, won’t you, Nick?”
The expression on Nick’s face didn’t speak of delight, but his mother didn’t seem to notice. “You’re being bossy, Mom,” he pointed out. “Maybe she’d rather drive herself.”
So she can leave early. The words were unspoken but clear to Allison.
“Don’t be silly. We don’t want her getting lost on those back roads.” She clasped Allison’s hand. “We’re glad you’ve come home to Laurel Ridge at last, Allison.”
Allison wanted to deny that Laurel Ridge was home to her in any sense. But she couldn’t deny the warmth of Ellen Whiting’s welcome.
* * *
TWO SOCIAL INVITATIONS in such a short period of time ought to be gratifying, Allison told herself. Would be, if not for the fact that she wanted to stay detached from the residents of Laurel Ridge, given the decisions she had to make.
She stood in the center hallway of the home her father had grown up in that evening, wondering what she was doing here. Mrs. Anderson hadn’t been able to mask her surprise when Allison mentioned where she was headed, but Allison hadn’t been able to tell whether the surprise was at Allison being asked to the Standish house or at Brenda for hosting a party.
Laurel Ridge seemed to have more than its share of large Victorian homes—relics, so Sarah had told her, of the days when the town was founded and lumber barons grew rich on the virgin timber of the ridges.
The Standish place was more modest than Blackburn House, making her wonder if that was part of the obvious rivalry between the families. But her father’s home had a grace and charm of its own. Pocket doors on either side of the central hallway led on the right to a dining room where an oval cherry table carried an array of finger sandwiches and hors d’oeuvres and on the left to a formal living room. Several well-dressed women were cruising the table, while a few men gathered around a sideboard bearing wine bottles and glasses.
Allison accepted a cup of punch from a white-aproned server and moved toward the living room. She’d greet her hostess, make the rounds and slip away early, before anyone could try to persuade her—
She stopped, staring at the silver-framed photograph that stood on the ornate Victorian mantel. This, then, was her grandmother. Allison moved closer, studying the features of the woman who’d been such a mystery to her.
Evelyn Standish must have been in her seventies when the photograph was taken, but she sat with her shoulders erect and her head held high. The face was austere and fine-boned, but with a hint of softness in the eyes. Or was Allison just hoping she read there some regret? Nonsense. Evelyn Standish had made her choice clear when she’d wiped her granddaughter out of her life. It was too late to go back now.
“Allison. You’re here.” Brenda, turning away from the fireplace, sounded as if she didn’t know quite what to do with Allison now that she’d invited her. “I’m sure there are people who’d be delighted to talk with you.” She looked around as if hoping to spot someone.
A hefty male figure loomed up behind her. “Well, this must be the long-lost granddaughter.” He nudged Brenda as he ran an obviously experienced eye over Allison. “Introduce me.”
“Yes, of course.” Brenda’s relief was visible. “Allison, this is Thomas—”
“Tommy