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Zane nodded.
Griffith’s thick gray brows rose questioningly as he became interested in the Irishman’s case. “Does she know you’re checking up on her?”
Zane was cautious. He had to be with this man. “Tiffany?”
“Right.”
Zane shook his head and scowled into his drink. “No.”
“Humph.” Griffith drew in on the cigar until the tip glowed red. “This other woman—this Rhodes lady, what’s she to you?” he demanded.
“A friend.”
Griffith shook his great head, and his eyes moved from Zane to John. “I thought you said he’d put all his cards on the table.”
“He will.” John glared severely at Zane. “You wanted the man.” He motioned to indicate the investigator. “So help him.”
At that moment, Zane realized he’d run out of options. He hesitated only slightly, and the smile that curved his lips appeared more dangerous than friendly. “All right, counselor, I’ll level with Griffith, if he promises that everything I tell him will be kept in the strictest confidence.”
“Goes without saying,” Griffith grumbled, lowering himself into the chair next to Zane and folding his hands over his round abdomen. “Now, Mr. Sheridan, kindly explain why you’re so interested in these two women, your wife and your . . . ‘friend. ’”
* * *
As she came downstairs the morning after Alexander’s Lady had foaled, Tiffany felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had slept soundly, and only once, at about four, had she woken up. After turning on the monitor in the den and assuring herself that both the mare and the filly were alive and resting as well as could be expected, she trudged back up the stairs and fell into her bed. She had gone to sleep again instantly and had awakened refreshed.
“Good morning,” Tiffany said with a cheery smile as Louise entered the kitchen and placed her purse on the table.
Louise’s eyes sparkled. “It must be, from the looks of you,” she decided. “Don’t tell me—that Sheridan fella is back again.”
“No,” Tiffany quickly replied. She avoided the housekeeper’s stare by pulling a thermos out of the cupboard near the pantry, and managed to hide the disappointment she felt whenever she thought about Zane. “Alexander’s Lady is now the mother of a healthy filly,” Tiffany stated, forcing a smile.
“Thank God!” Louise removed her coat and hung it in the closet. “This calls for a celebration!”
“Champagne brunch maybe?” Tiffany suggested.
Louise thought for a moment and then nodded. “Why not? It’s about time we had some good news around here.” She pulled her favorite apron out of the closet, tied it loosely around her waist and began rummaging through the drawers looking for the utensils she needed. After grabbing a wooden spoon, she tapped it thoughtfully against her chin and said, “I can fix something for when? Say around noon?”
“That would be perfect,” Tiffany agreed. “Vance should be back by then and maybe we can persuade him to stay.”
At that moment the telephone rang, and without thinking Tiffany reached for the receiver and settled it against her ear. “Hello?” she said into the phone, hoping for a fleeting second that the caller would be Zane.
“Tiffany? Hal Reece, here.”
Tiffany’s heart fell to the floor, and her stomach tightened painfully. Obviously his mare had foaled. Her fingers tightened around the receiver. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to report that Mile High delivered.”
Tiffany braced herself for the worst. She was already imagining how she would deal with the press, the lawsuit, the other owners.... “When?”
“Three nights ago.”
“And?” Tiffany’s heart was thudding so loudly she was sure Hal could hear it.
Louise stopped rattling in the cupboards; the serious tone of Tiffany’s voice warned her of impending doom. Usually she wouldn’t eavesdrop, but this time, under the circumstances, the kindly housekeeper couldn’t hide her interest in the strained conversation.
“And, I’m glad to say, we have three-day-old colts—healthy ones,” Hal announced.
“Colts? Plural?”
