The Daughter. BEVERLY BARTON

She did have the same color hair, but there the resemblance ended. Carolyn was thin and petite, classically beautiful and feminine in an old-fashioned, ladylike way.

      Ella sighed as she continued brushing her mother’s hair. When she finished the task – one hundred strokes – she held up the mirror so that Carolyn could inspect herself.

      ‘Lovely, darling. Thank you.’ Carolyn leaned over and kissed Ella’s cheek. ‘You’re such a good daughter. I’m going to miss having you here with me when you and Dan get married.’

      Ella tensed. She’d been dreading this conversation. As a child her parents had chosen her playmates, and as a teenager they had often picked her dates. She was well aware of the fact that Dan Gilmore’s parents were part of the old-money set in Spring Creek – people whose ancestors had been a part of this town since before the War Between the States. Carolyn had telephoned Dan’s mother shortly after Dan’s divorce had become final last year and insisted on getting their children together.

      ‘Mother … I … I don’t think Dan and I will be getting married.’

      ‘Has that young rascal not even hinted about marriage?’

      ‘He’s hinted, but … I don’t love Dan.’

      Carolyn lifted her eyebrows and rounded her mouth as she sighed. ‘I see. And is there someone else?’

      ‘No, there’s no one else.’

      ‘Dan is quite a catch, you know. If you let him get away, some other lucky girl will be wearing his ring by this time next year. His mother has told me that he wants to get married again. His son needs a mother, and a man in his position needs a suitable wife.’

      ‘And I’m suitable?’

      ‘Of course you are.’ Carolyn laughed softly. ‘You have all the right credentials. You’re bright and charming and very successful. And you’re Webb Porter’s daughter – and my only child.’

      Never once had her mother told her that she was pretty. She knew she wasn’t, but didn’t mothers lie to their little girls and tell even the ugliest duckling that she was the fairest of them all? Carolyn had told her she was smart, clever, charming, loyal, devoted and even sweet, but never pretty.

      ‘I don’t want to marry a man just because he finds me suitable.’

      Carolyn took Ella’s hands in hers and rested them in her lap atop the spotless white sheets. ‘People marry for many different reasons. I’m sure Dan loves you. Why wouldn’t he? But Ella, my dear child, you’re already thirty and you’ve never been exactly popular with men. It’s not as if there’s some white knight out there waiting to sweep you off your feet.’

      ‘Daddy swept you off your feet, didn’t he?’

      Carolyn’s smile wavered ever so slightly. ‘Yes, of course he did. But love like Webb’s and mine doesn’t happen for everyone. What we share is very rare. Naturally, I wish you could find someone like your father, but—’

      ‘But girls like me don’t end up with hunks like Daddy, do they?’

      ‘Eleanor Grace Porter! What a thing to say.’ Carolyn couldn’t keep the stern look on her face and soon burst into soft giggles. ‘Webb is a hunk, isn’t he?’

      Ella hugged her mother. ‘Yes, he is.’

      ‘What are my two girls giggling about?’ Webb stood in the doorway, a wide smile on his face.

      ‘Let’s not tell him,’ Carolyn said. ‘The man’s ego is already the size of Texas.’

      ‘Girl talk,’ Ella said. ‘Nothing that concerns you.’

      Ella kissed her mother, retrieved the silver items from atop the coverlet, and placed them on the bedside table. She paused as she approached her father.

      He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her out into the hall. ‘Goodnight, princess.’

      Ella kissed his cheek. ‘Is Aunt Cybil all right?’

      His smile vanished. ‘Cybil is her own worst enemy. She’s miserable and she tries to make everyone around her miserable.’

      ‘I think it would be terribly sad to be married to someone who was in love with someone else.’

      Webb tapped her affectionately on the nose. ‘You’re too smart for your own good, young lady. You always were.’

      ‘Mother wants me to marry Dan.’

      ‘And what do you want?’

      ‘I want the kind of love you and Mother have – real love.’

      ‘If you want real love, then don’t marry Dan Gilmore.’

      ‘Do you mean that, Daddy? Even if—’

      He laid his index finger over her lips. ‘You wait for the real thing. For that can’t-wait-to-see-him, can’t-live-without-him, want-to-be-with-him-forever kind of love.’

      Ella hugged Webb fiercely. ‘I love you, Daddy.’

      ‘And I love you, princess.’

      Reed Conway was back in Spring Creek. Paroled today. The bad boy had returned and was sure to stir up trouble. Big trouble. He was the type who’d be damned and determined to prove his innocence. That couldn’t happen – not now; not ever. There had to be a way to put him back where he belonged – behind bars – before he asked too many questions. Before he dug too deep. If he didn’t live up to the conditions of his parole, if he committed a crime, even some minor infraction of the law, he could be sent back to Donaldson. Think. Think. How can I see to it that Reed makes a fatal mistake? Something serious enough to revoke his parole. He can’t be allowed to stay in Spring Creek long enough to unearth any long-buried secrets.

       3

      She had told him her name was Ivy Sims. She’d been divorced twice and was presently between boyfriends. Her only kid, a fifteen-year-old boy, lived with her first husband in Mobile. She was too friendly, too chatty and very obviously interested in more than sharing a drink at Desperado’s. She’d been skimming her red, claw-like fingernails up and down his arm for the past five minutes, and a couple of times she had none-too-subtly eyed his crotch. He’d had a hard-on since the minute he got a whiff of her cheap perfume – something she’d probably bought at the Dollar Store. If he had his pick of women, Ivy wouldn’t be his number-one choice. She was probably a good ten years older than he was, and every year showed on her darkly tanned face. The deep age lines of a lifetime smoker edged the corners of her mouth and eyes. And, although she had nice, big breasts, she had no hips and a flat ass. But right now, Ivy looked damned good. Like a delicious, greasy hamburger would look to a starving man. She wasn’t prime rib, but horse meat would do if a man was hungry enough. And Reed was hungry. Hell, he was famished.

      ‘Briley Joe told me you just got out of the pen. Is that right, honey?’ Ivy’s full, red lips widened in a sensual smile.

      ‘That’s right. Just got out today.’ Reed lifted his bottle and downed the last drops of his fourth beer.

      ‘You sure do look good for a man who’s been behind bars.’ She wrapped her hand around the hard, bulging biceps of his right arm. ‘You must have spent a lot of time in the prison gym.’

      ‘I take it that you don’t care that I’ve been in Donaldson for the past fifteen years, convicted of murder.’

      ‘Who’d you kill? Or are you one of those guys who was “innocent” and did time for a crime you didn’t commit?’ She chuckled teasingly.

      ‘Yeah, that’s me, all right, an innocent man. They sent me away because a jury said I slit my stepfather’s throat.’

      ‘I had a stepfather,’ she