Page 2 of Duncan

It wasn’t as if four years at Stanford had changed Nicole in any significant way. She was still the same scrawny girl with the pointy nose and cleft chin. She had nice skin, although it was so sensitive to light she had to put on sunscreen before she stepped one foot outside during the day. Her only real claim to beauty, her long mane of strawberry-blonde hair, was thick but superfine, and wilted during any attempt at styling. Fashion didn’t interest her; the crystal-encrusted gray gown she was wearing to the banquet tonight was one Maxwell had chosen. Even the blue diamond earrings she wore had belonged to her mother.

Her ambitions proved to be even more painfully ordinary than her looks. She managed her father’s various charity concerns, and collected donations for no-kill animal shelters, domestic crises centers, and homeless organizations. When her trust fund became available, she’d use it to set up her own foundation for education and research funding to make the future better for the planet.

As for her personality, Nicole had always been a quiet homebody. She genuinely had no interest in shopping, pampering herself, or hobnobbing with the daughters of other wealthy men. She liked to read books, garden, and cook whenever she could convince the kitchen staff to let her. Her idea of a perfect day was one she could do whatever she liked while daydreaming. Her father often said she reminded him of an oversize fairy who had gotten lost in the real world.

What he didn’t say was how much she resembled her mother, Sylvie Fairburn, who had disappeared when Nicole was four. Rumors still circulated that she had killed herself or that Maxwell had murdered her, but the police never found a trace. After seven years Maxwell had had her declared dead. Since then Sylvie remained a taboo subject between them, but Nicole often wished she could ask her father more about her.

Don’t bother, her aunt Merry had warned when she’d asked about her parents’ relationship. Maxwell just wanted to own Syl, as if she were an art object.

Tonight as she and Brittany entered the yacht’s huge banquet room, Nicole saw Hudson and her father standing at the far end. Because her brother emulated Maxwell in all things, he looked like her dad, from the short, precise cut of his dark hair to the very conservative manner in which he dressed. From their expressions it looked as if they had been arguing again, something that seemed to be happening a lot lately. Maxwell tended to be demanding no matter what the situation, as he always wanted to make the decisions. Her brother usually catered to him without question, but since last year things between them had been strained.

Hudson caught her eye and shook his head slightly.

That meant for her to stay out of it, so Nicole made a trip around the room to say hello to her relatives and assure the catering and serving staff didn’t need any more supplies or help. The family collectively greeted her with hearty phoniness, some still watching her father and brother as they said hello. Brittany’s mother Sherona gave her a tight smile before she marched her daughter away to scold her for something.

“Mom’s pissed,” a languid voice drawled. “Brittle Brain stole my nicest Gucci purse.”

Nicole glanced at Cameron Alston, Brittany’s older sister, who had dressed in a bright green sequined gown that complimented her emerald jewelry. Plastic surgery and Botox treatments had refined her already pretty face into a motionless mask of perfection. It seemed ironic that she’d chosen that unkind nickname for her sister. Cameron had dyed her drab brown hair a light ash blonde so often it looked as if the strands might shatter if anyone touched them.

“Aren’t you going to defend the greedy little bitch again?” the older girl said, nudging her with an elbow. “After all, she thinks she’syour bestie.”

Accustomed as she was to her snideness and taunting, Nicole intensely disliked Cameron’s constant, malicious torment of Brittany. The younger girl might not be perfect, but unlike her older sister she was a genuinely sweet, caring person.

“Don’t call your sister hurtful names, Cam.” She deliberately checked her flawless manicure as if she were bored. “She wouldn’t take anything of yours. Besides, you probably have a hundred Gucci purses.”

“She stole my favorite one, and Mom has been really tight-fisted lately.” The brunette’s blood-red painted lips snidely framed her blinding white teeth. “Buy me a new one, Cuz? I want the 1947 bamboo-handled crocodile purse.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “That would make an amazing birthday gift, and you’d be bailing out the brat. Again.”

Nicole had no idea what she was talking about—she never carried purses—but she guessed it was probably the most expensive one Gucci had ever made.

“Your birthday was two months ago,” she told her cousin, “and I don’t think you need another overpriced bag.”

“Geez, Louise, you’re just as cheap as your old man.” Cam leaned closer and dropped her voice to a discreet murmur. “I saw Hudson the other day at Tiffany’s, looking at diamond engagement rings. Think he means to propose again? You should tell him that I won’t settle for anything under twenty carats.”

Nicole had noticed her brother doing similar things, like reading bridal magazines, watching a wedding movie, and visiting several other high-end jewelry shops. Yet as far as she knew Hudson had no intention of marrying Cameron, as Maxwell had strongly disapproved of the match, and forced him to put an end to it last year.

“You should ask my brother what he’s planning to do,” Nicole finally said.

“He never talks to me these days. But I know how fast every guy falls in love with you and your trust fund.” The older girl suckled the tip of one finger for a moment. “I guess you know exactly what Huddie wants, too, huh?”

What she was implying nauseated her, but long practice helped her keep her composure. “Excuse me, I need to speak to my father.”

By the time she joined Maxwell Fairburn on the other side of the room a small crowd of his siblings and in-laws surrounded him, and Hudson had vanished. Nicole edged her way through the entourage, smiling at her relatives as they made way for her while barely hiding their annoyance. Her father put his arm around her shoulders, and told everyone to go to their tables as dinner was being served. He then ushered Nicole outside to the long, wide deck.

“You’re late,” Maxwell scolded her after kissing her temple.

“Yes, but that makes me fashionable.” She smiled up at him. “Everything looks great. Hungry?”

“I lost my appetite.” Her father grimaced and pressed his palm to the center of his chest. “Damned heartburn is driving me crazy.”

They stood together at the railing to watch the sunset gild the bluffs and white dunes of the shoreline. This is what he enjoys most, Nicole thought as the sadness that swamped her whenever she looked at the sea returned. There were changes with her father that concerned her, too. Maxwell’s shoulders looked bonier, and the suit he wore appeared looser than the last time he’d worn it. He had blamed indigestion as the reason he had been steadily losing weight, but she doubted that was the real reason.

Maybe that was what he and Hud were arguing about earlier.

“After the reunion I want to sit down with you,” Maxwell said, in the same tone he used for speeches. “Our Aerotech division is going public next month. Engineering and Development landed that new pipeline contract with Canada. I’m particularly concerned with Fairburn Pharmaceuticals and the proposed strategy for producing more vital drugs domestically–”

“You know I’m not involved in any of that, Dad.” She turned toward him. “Shouldn’t you discuss your plans with Hudson?”

His expression darkened. “That boy doesn’t have the same head for business as you do.”