The Heiress. Cathy Thacker Gillen

There had to be a gas station around here somewhere. Otherwise she’d have to get a tow truck and another ride.

      Jack Granger pulled up behind her. He left his engine and lights on as he stepped out of the car and walked up to her window. He leaned down, like a policeman giving a ticket and rapped on the glass, his jacket off, tie loosened and shirtsleeves rolled up. “Problem?”

      She stared straight ahead. “Nothing I can’t handle. Now go away.”

      “Sorry.” He remained beside her, hands braced on his hips. “I can’t do that.”

      “Suit yourself.” Daisy tried once more to start her car, and then gave up. She took her keys out of the ignition, grabbed her purse, and deciding he could be responsible for getting himself out of her way, bolted out of the car.

      “I’ll give you a ride,” Jack said.

      “No.” Daisy tucked her purse under her arm and started walking in the direction she’d been headed.

      Jack caught her arm and swung her around to face him, his big strong body dwarfing her petite frame. His touch gentling ever so slightly, he regarded her impatiently. “Look, I know you’re a strong, independent woman and all that, but you can’t gallivant around here alone this late at night. It’s not safe.”

      Daisy surveyed the rumpled state of his sandy-blond hair, the evening beard lining his face, and knew he had to feel every bit in need of a long hot shower and a good night’s sleep as she did at that moment. Refusing to let him tell her what to do, or when to do it, she merely drawled, “Is that so.”

      Half his lips curved upward in a coaxing smile. He held his ground just as resolutely, promising kindly, “I’ll take you where you want to go.”

      Daisy sighed. The truth was, she was exhausted from the long flight home, the confrontations with Iris and Tom and the driving around aimlessly. Right now she wanted a safe, quiet place, and a bed to call her own. She didn’t want Jack Granger—or anyone else—knowing where she was, but she supposed at the moment anyway that couldn’t be helped. “Fine,” she said tersely. “Take me to Folly Beach and I’ll direct you from there.”

      “THERE” turned out to be a run-down lodge and a dozen or so private cottages in equally miserable shape. Jack knew Folly Beach had been devastated during a particularly bad hurricane some years back, and for a while few had vacationed there because of the huge amount of devastation, but that was once again changing. Expensive vacation homes were cropping up amidst the various businesses and year-round residences.

      Jack looked at the weathered buildings, with the unkempt grounds and peeling paint. “If it’s a hotel room you’re needing, we can do a lot better than this,” he said, surveying the faded sign that proclaimed it Paradise Resort. “Let me take you to one of the premium resorts or hotels.”

      Predictably, Daisy ignored his attempt to help her. “This’ll do just fine,” she said, her soft lips tightening mutinously as she disregarded his offer and slid out of the car. She slung her purse and camera around her neck, and picked up her red accordion file while Jack reluctantly got her wheeled suitcase out of the rear of his SUV. Taking it from him, she headed for the lodge, leaving Jack no choice but to follow. By the time Jack got inside the lobby, Daisy was already being greeted by a thirtyish woman in cutoffs and a T-shirt. Slender and dark-haired, with lively dark-brown eyes, she had a paint roller in her hand and pale-green paint streaked across one golden-skinned cheek. “Hey, Daisy. I didn’t expect you back so soon!” She paused to rip off a plastic painting glove and extend her hand to Jack. “I’m Kristy Neumeyer—I own this place.”

      “Jack Granger.” Jack took her hand and shook it warmly, his regard for the establishment being renovated becoming abruptly more positive. A little elbow grease and some tender loving care would go a long way to making Paradise Resort a top-notch vacation hideaway.

      Kristy turned back to Daisy, her pretty smile widening even more. “I thought you were staying in Europe indefinitely.” Kristy easily picked up her conversation with Daisy.

      “I’m back.” Daisy said, her weariness abruptly beginning to show. “And I need a place to stay tonight.” Daisy looked at Kristy, as if knowing what a big favor she was asking, under the circumstances. “Can you rent me one of the cottages?”

      Kristy regarded Jack curiously, then turned back to Daisy. “Uh… Listen…I…none of the cottages are ready yet. In fact, they’re all in pretty dismal shape. As you can see, I haven’t even gotten the lobby painted.”

      “But you and your twins are living here,” Daisy protested.

      Kristy held up her hands with a helpless shrug. “Susie and Sally are eight. They just like being close to the beach, and being able to build sand castles and collect seashells every single day.”

      “Where are they now?” Jack asked.

      “Asleep for the night. Which leaves me free to resume my efforts to spruce up this place enough to get it open for business again. Hopefully, by October fifteenth. Meanwhile, I’m closed to guests.”

      “I just need a place to lay my head,” Daisy told Kristy persuasively. “If there’s a pillow and a mattress or even a floor, that’s really all I need.”

      Kristy studied Daisy. Understanding passed between them as Kristy realized how badly Daisy needed refuge. “Well, in that case…” Kristy stepped around the paint pan and roller and slipped behind the desk. She lifted a drop cloth, then came up with a key. “You can take cabin six. It’s at the other end.”

      “Thanks,” Daisy said gratefully.

      “Need help with your luggage?” Kristy asked.

      Daisy shook her head. She turned to Jack and offered him a tight you-can-get-lost-now-that-you’re-no-longer-useful smile. “See you around,” she said, grabbing the handle of her wheeled suitcase once again. And then she was gone.

      “SO DAISY CONFRONTED her biological father tonight, too,” Richard Templeton said shortly after midnight.

      Iris looked at her parents grimly, nodding. Richard and Charlotte had been at a charity function and were still in their evening clothes. As always they made a very striking couple. Both were slim and fit, blessed with elegant, aristocratic looks and an inordinate sense of style, but Iris couldn’t help but note, only her mother looked her age. Mostly because Charlotte refused to take advantage of the latest plastic surgery techniques or dye her chin-length silver hair. Richard, however, had no such compunction. He’d had not one—but two—face-lifts over the years and had been “keeping” his dark-brown hair that hue with regular visits to the salon. All Richard’s efforts to retain his youthful visage had paid off. Although Richard and Charlotte were both sixty-seven, Richard looked a good ten years younger than his wife. Iris knew that bothered her father, but her mother didn’t seem to care.

      Aware they were still waiting for her answer, Iris said, “Tom Deveraux called me half an hour ago and told me about the scene Daisy created at his home this evening.” Briefly, Iris explained about the family party Daisy had disrupted.

      Charlotte Templeton removed her diamond and sapphire necklace and earrings, and put them back in the case. “And you say Grace Deveraux was there, also?”

      “Yes.” Iris watched her father open the safe in the library and put the jewelry case carefully inside, with the others. “Apparently, Grace and the rest of the family were very upset.”

      Charlotte frowned, her resentment of the man who had turned her eldest child’s life upside down, evident. “I imagine they would be.”

      “Are the children going to tell anyone about this?” Richard demanded.

      “Tom made them swear to keep it quiet. Apparently, they all agreed. None of them want to endure the public humiliation of a scandal.”

      “That was decent of Grace,” Charlotte said.

      Because she was among family, Iris made no effort