Keeping Secrets Read Online Free Page B

scarcely heard the brief explanation of the vows being given us, busy glancing toward Nathan as often as I dared. His narrow forehead was pale, his face smooth (was he no more than a boy, I wondered?), and later, as he handed over the gold wedding band during the ceremony, I noticed that his small hands, with meticulous nails, were shaking. In fact he fumbled and nearly dropped the ring, bringing a flash of contempt to Emory’s eyes.
    When the service was over, Nathan mopped his brow and drew a long sigh. “It’s stuffy in here. Why don’t we go on outside,” I suggested, and would have further invited Nathan to dine with us.
    Emory cut in, however, and told Nathan, “Get back to the office and make sure that shipment is priced out right. We don’t want any mix-ups now that we have it going again.”
    Nathan looked at me, then at Emory, and said, “Of course.”
    On the way out I told Emory, ‘You could have been less abrupt. I think he wanted to wish us well, or at least introduce himself to me.”
    â€œHe doesn’t have time for that. I’ve got work for him to do.”
    The curt exchange was my first glimpse at the strained relationship between Emory and Nathan, and I was both taken aback and filled with misgivings. I wouldn’t have guessed the two men were at odds with each other before—if so, why would Emory keep Nathan on, and why would he stay?—yet that day they seemed like two animals of different species, mistrusting each other, at the least.…
    Outside in the car, Emory’s mood had switched again with lightning speed. He took my hand, looked across at me, and smiled. “Well, Mrs. Cabot, how about some dinner?”
    â€œOh, I do like the sound of that name … please feel free to call me that any time … and Emory, I’m going to try very hard to make you happy.”
    â€œYou already have,” he said triumphantly, then winked. “By the way, I’m glad you decided to accept the position after all.” Then he reached under the seat and brought out a small box, which held a stunning emerald dinner ring. He watched my awestruck expression, then said, “Look inside.” And there, engraved in fancy scroll, was the date of my arrival in San Antonio.
    Across a candle-lit dinner table, Emory enlightened me on some of his business affairs. The vintage champagne served to the dreamy music of a stringed orchestra enhanced my romantic mood, but not, apparently, Emory’s. Yet I was fast coming to know him as one who accomplished a project, only to vault headlong into another. I didn’t really mind. In fact I loved listening to him speak on subjects that interested him so intensely, his eyes aglow when he mentioned high profits and shrewd deals. Once during a pause I tried to get him on the subject of Nathan.
    He shrugged. “Why should Nathan surprise you? He knows record keeping; he can put up with details that I detest. What makes you think we don’t get along?”
    â€œWell, it’s obvious you’ve won his loyalty, anyhow.”
    â€œLoyalty?” He raised an eyebrow, then laughed shortly. “I never quite thought of it that way. Now I want to tell you something about Mexico—”
    Another question had been nagging at me, so I interrupted, “Emory, did you ever find your mother?”
    He paused and eyed me thoughtfully. “Why did you ask that?”
    â€œI don’t know … something left over from the past, I guess.”
    â€œI found her, all right.”
    I leaned forward, eyes wide. “Where? How is she?”
    â€œDead.”
    â€œOh … that’s too bad … I mean, I guess—”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter now …” he continued more slowly, “seems she made quite a habit of going about the country breaking up families. I discovered four husbands after my own father. Finally she—oh, well, it’s all in the past