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I quickly wiped the tears from my face. I couldn’t afford to ruin the extensive makeup job—it took me too long to get it right. Hopefully, I’d get better at it with practice, but in the meantime, it was a follow-the-numbers challenge for someone who had seldom bothered with any makeup at all, much less the complicated high-end ritual Bella favored.
I kicked off my shoes, breathing in a sigh of relief mixed with the tang of the ocean. So I was supposed to sit quietly in my room, waiting to be summoned?
What would Bella do?
I headed for the door.
Chapter Four
The Queen’s Room was at the back end of beyond. Granda’s massive suite had always commanded the top floor, giving him three hundred and sixty degree views of the countryside and his possessions. They may have brought him down to a lower floor in deference to his age and illness, but I doubted it. If Granda couldn’t walk, he’d make someone carry him, imperious as ever.
I took my time as I wandered through the familiar halls, touching a piece of furniture here, pieces of artwork that I remembered from my childhood. There was the huge copper bowl we’d taken and used as a witch’s caldron, the delicate sculpture of the ballet dancer that I now recognized as a real Degas. Everything was the same, even after twelve long years, and it felt unreal.
His door was closed, but I knew he was in there. I could smell the unmistakable odor of medicine and illness even through the door, a hospital-like smell that immediately had my stomach in knots. I had spent too much time in hospitals as my mother had slowly succumbed to cancer, and I could feel the remembered tension running through my body. I tapped on the door lightly, then pushed it open.
At first I thought I’d made a mistake, and the room was deserted. It was dark, the curtains and shutters closed, and the high bed looked empty. And then I saw him lying there.
He was so much smaller than he had been. I remembered Granda as a huge, commanding presence. Tall, overshadowing the adolescents under his wing, he’d been a powerful man with massive shoulders and a leonine head. The man who lay in the bed was only a remnant of that man, a gaunt, still figure barely disturbing the surface of the covers.
The reality of everything hit me then, like a slap in the face. Things were not the same. This was Granda, the man who had meant everything to me, who had turned his back on me, and he was dying. And he still didn’t want me.
“Bella? Is that you?” His voice was no more than a faint croak, so unlike the booming strength I was used to, and I moved closer to the bed, giving him a tremulous smile.
“Hello, Granda.” I didn’t need to affect Bella’s husky drawl—my voice was raw with unshed tears.
He looked me up and down in the dim room. “About time you got here,” he said finally, his voice a little stronger. “What kept you?”
“I came as soon as I could.”
He made a derisive noise, suddenly sounding like Granda again. “I’m sure you had more important things to do than visit your dying grandfather. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re here now, and you’re staying.”
“Granda, I can’t stay,” I said desperately. The charade was already taking its toll, and there was no way in hell I could carry it off for any length of time. “I have things I need to take care of...”
“There’s nothing more important than family,” he said firmly, and the words sent an unconscious stab through my heart. “You’re part of Mariposa, of its past and present and future, and I will have you all here while I decide how I’m going to deal with it.”
“Deal with it? I’m not interested in your money, Granda. I came to see you.” True enough on my part, and true, I hoped, on Bella’s. At least, that was what she’d told me, and I had no choice but to believe her.
He snorted again. “Turn on some lights, will you? I can’t see a damned thing.”
“You want me to open the shutters?”
“Hell, no. Damned sunshine gives me a headache.”
I had passed muster with Ian, who was younger and sharper and more suspicious. I should have no worries about fooling Granda. I moved to the bedside and switched on the lamp. The light bulb was dim, presumably in deference to his sensitive eyes, but I could see him clearly now, as he could see me, and the shock slammed into me, leaving me breathless.
He was old. His waving hair was thin now, white, cut short on his skull. There were liver spots on his cheeks, his eyes were sunken and slightly cloudy, and his body was almost skeletal. I wanted to touch him, to comfort him, to comfort myself, but I stayed where I was. What would Bella do?
“You look the same,” he said in a grumbly voice, and I relaxed slightly at his familiar, irascible tone. “Shorter, though.”
“I’m barefoot. I usually wear heels.” Shit. He was more observant than I’d hoped. Still, with those clouded eyes, the differences between Bella and me were almost negligible.
He nodded, accepting. “You saw your cousin Ian.”
“Not exactly my cousin,” I reminded him. “We have no blood connection.”
“Family is more than blood,” the old man snapped. “When will you realize that?”
“I realize it,” I said quietly. “He wasn’t happy to see me.”
