Chapter 2
Theresa stumbled back into the office, her brown eyes wide and incredulous as they sought him out. "Luis," she said, juggling both the black cape and the jumbled folder in her arms as she lurched toward her desk, "what did you do to her? What did you say to her to make her cry like that? She was so upset she forgot this again," she said, watching helplessly as the cape slipped from her grasp and fluttered to a heap on the floor.
Luis bent to retrieve the cape, rubbing the velvety texture between his thumb and forefinger before hanging it on the coat hanger in the corner of the room.
Sheridan's light perfume suddenly enveloped his senses again. He felt surrounded by her presence.
The contents of the file tumbled free, scattering all over the surface of Theresa's desk, and she sifted through the papers, drawn by her natural curiosity to the glossy photographs peeking through. "Luis!" Theresa cried. "Look at him. He's so cute. The little girl is pretty too," she said in the interest of keeping things fair. "But.he's a doll."
Luis studied the picture over his sister's shoulder.
It was a casual shot, most likely snapped without the children's knowledge. The little boy looked to be no more than two years of age in his tiny yellow and navy swim trunks, leaning down with his pacifier in one sun- bronzed hand with full pink lips puckered for a kiss. Wet red curls spilled over the palm that propped the little girl's chin up, and her striking dark eyes were alight with happiness as she waited for the kiss from her little prince, her feet in the air behind her, crossed at the ankles.
Theresa handed the picture to him and picked up another one.
Richard Grant. A powerful man in the political circles of Harmony and New England, second only to Alistair Crane himself.
How had it escaped his notice that the woman he still dreamed about years after their last meeting was connected to two of the most power-hungry and hated men in Harmony?
Luis pushed away the thought that she'd blinded him with her beauty and those sad blue eyes and embraced the hole-filled notion that Sheridan had played him for a fool. He'd rather burn with anger than hang his head at his own obtuseness. Looking back, there had been too many coincidences for him not to put together the pieces of the puzzle.
"His eyes are so cold," Theresa whispered, laying the picture down and grabbing the handful of papers Luis recognized as the bare facts of the case. "She wants you to help her get custody of.Paige and Alexander Grant. Luis," Theresa looked up at him with accusing brown eyes. "You didn't tell her no, did you? Luis, you didn't."
Luis balked at the anger dripping from Theresa's normally bubbly voice. "Theresa," he began, his voice rasping in his throat at her irate expression. He dredged up the anger he'd felt less than a half hour ago with the discovery of Sheridan's lies, and his tone was biting as he glared at his little sister. "She's a Crane, Theresa."
Theresa's mouth dropped open in a stunned 'O' for several seconds, but she quickly regained her composure. "That doesn't mean anything. Luis, stop being so judgmental. She seemed perfectly nice. Nothing at all like the Cranes we know. Luis, she wants us to help her get her little girl and little boy back for her. She doesn't sound evil at all to me. How could you not help her?"
Luis flinched inwardly at the disappointment written plainly on Theresa's face, dropping his eyes from her unblinking stare. "Theresa, don't lecture me when you don't know all the facts. Appearances can be deceiving. Sheridan is a Crane. The Cranes have made our family and the people of Harmony miserable for years. They've taken whatever they've wanted without a moment's remorse for stealing away something that wasn't theirs. They've kept the rest of us down while they live the big life up in that mansion on the hill. They're dishonest," he told her, remembering again Sheridan's own dishonesty with him. "They're nothing like Papa or Mama, Theresa. They're just not good people. They ruin everything they touch."
Theresa sighed and shook her head, walking behind her desk and pulling a drawer out. She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and turned to leave the office. When she reached the exit, she leaned heavily against the glass door and her brown eyes looked into his imploringly. "I don't believe you, Luis. I don't believe that Sheridan is like the rest of her family. I believe she is a good person. A person that needs our help. And if you're not going to help her.you're not half the man I thought you were."
"Theresa," Luis said, stepping forward.
Theresa held up a distancing hand and glanced outside at Whitney's compact little car just pulling into the parking lot. "That's Whitney. We should be back from lunch in an hour."
"Take the rest of the day off. Things aren't real busy around here anyway," Luis muttered, unconsciously tapping the crumpled picture in his right hand against his thigh.
Theresa closed the distance between them in three bouncy steps, smiling up at him apologetically as she slipped one arm around his waist and reached down to still the distracting movement of his other hand.
Luis buried his nose in her soft dark hair and hugged her close to him, glad to be reprieved in action if not words. He let her remove the picture from his hands, feeling the nagging sensation of guilt return as her fingers smoothed the photo's crumpled edges, and he found himself staring again at the innocent face of a child.
"Look at that adorable face, Luis, and tell me you can really say no," Theresa challenged, a knowing twinkle in her brown eyes as she skillfully manipulated his emotions. "He's depending on you, and he's half-Crane. Kind of shoots your 'ALL CRANES ARE EVIL' theory out of the water, doesn't it? Papa says there's always a diamond in the rough. Sheridan might be that diamond," she said, standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "Just think it over, okay Luis?"
Luis nodded his head quickly, reminding her as she backed out of the door, "Make Whitney drive slow through the really icy spots."
Theresa giggled and rolled her dark eyes at him. "I will. But you have to promise."
"I promise," Luis waved her outside with a smile. "You're late. Now go."
"Bye, Luis."
Luis stood by the tiny window, watching Whitney's car pull out of the lot, Theresa blowing silly kisses at him out the rolled-down window the entire time while Whitney gently admonished her.
The snow drifted from the skies, carpeting the world outside in a white sheen.
Luis's attention gravitated to the picture again, and the sparkling dark eyes gazing up at him. He closed his eyes against the image, but he could still feel those eyes looking up at him almost expectantly, stirring some nameless emotion within his heart that made no sense to him whatsoever.
The scent of Sheridan's perfume lingered in the air, and the hauntingly vulnerable blue eyes from the depths of his memory beseeched him.
The small office filled with his soft groans, and the glass mirrored his conflicted visage back to him, presenting him with a truth that was difficult to face. His half-hearted denials didn't change what he knew inexplicably in his heart.that Theresa was right.
He wasn't even half the man he'd thought himself to be,
Would he let his shallowly buried hard feelings of the past get in the way of doing what was right?
He grabbed her cape off the hook on his way out the door, tucking her file underneath his arm.
Destination still uncertain.
Theresa stumbled back into the office, her brown eyes wide and incredulous as they sought him out. "Luis," she said, juggling both the black cape and the jumbled folder in her arms as she lurched toward her desk, "what did you do to her? What did you say to her to make her cry like that? She was so upset she forgot this again," she said, watching helplessly as the cape slipped from her grasp and fluttered to a heap on the floor.
Luis bent to retrieve the cape, rubbing the velvety texture between his thumb and forefinger before hanging it on the coat hanger in the corner of the room.
Sheridan's light perfume suddenly enveloped his senses again. He felt surrounded by her presence.
The contents of the file tumbled free, scattering all over the surface of Theresa's desk, and she sifted through the papers, drawn by her natural curiosity to the glossy photographs peeking through. "Luis!" Theresa cried. "Look at him. He's so cute. The little girl is pretty too," she said in the interest of keeping things fair. "But.he's a doll."
Luis studied the picture over his sister's shoulder.
It was a casual shot, most likely snapped without the children's knowledge. The little boy looked to be no more than two years of age in his tiny yellow and navy swim trunks, leaning down with his pacifier in one sun- bronzed hand with full pink lips puckered for a kiss. Wet red curls spilled over the palm that propped the little girl's chin up, and her striking dark eyes were alight with happiness as she waited for the kiss from her little prince, her feet in the air behind her, crossed at the ankles.
Theresa handed the picture to him and picked up another one.
Richard Grant. A powerful man in the political circles of Harmony and New England, second only to Alistair Crane himself.
How had it escaped his notice that the woman he still dreamed about years after their last meeting was connected to two of the most power-hungry and hated men in Harmony?
Luis pushed away the thought that she'd blinded him with her beauty and those sad blue eyes and embraced the hole-filled notion that Sheridan had played him for a fool. He'd rather burn with anger than hang his head at his own obtuseness. Looking back, there had been too many coincidences for him not to put together the pieces of the puzzle.
"His eyes are so cold," Theresa whispered, laying the picture down and grabbing the handful of papers Luis recognized as the bare facts of the case. "She wants you to help her get custody of.Paige and Alexander Grant. Luis," Theresa looked up at him with accusing brown eyes. "You didn't tell her no, did you? Luis, you didn't."
Luis balked at the anger dripping from Theresa's normally bubbly voice. "Theresa," he began, his voice rasping in his throat at her irate expression. He dredged up the anger he'd felt less than a half hour ago with the discovery of Sheridan's lies, and his tone was biting as he glared at his little sister. "She's a Crane, Theresa."
Theresa's mouth dropped open in a stunned 'O' for several seconds, but she quickly regained her composure. "That doesn't mean anything. Luis, stop being so judgmental. She seemed perfectly nice. Nothing at all like the Cranes we know. Luis, she wants us to help her get her little girl and little boy back for her. She doesn't sound evil at all to me. How could you not help her?"
Luis flinched inwardly at the disappointment written plainly on Theresa's face, dropping his eyes from her unblinking stare. "Theresa, don't lecture me when you don't know all the facts. Appearances can be deceiving. Sheridan is a Crane. The Cranes have made our family and the people of Harmony miserable for years. They've taken whatever they've wanted without a moment's remorse for stealing away something that wasn't theirs. They've kept the rest of us down while they live the big life up in that mansion on the hill. They're dishonest," he told her, remembering again Sheridan's own dishonesty with him. "They're nothing like Papa or Mama, Theresa. They're just not good people. They ruin everything they touch."
Theresa sighed and shook her head, walking behind her desk and pulling a drawer out. She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and turned to leave the office. When she reached the exit, she leaned heavily against the glass door and her brown eyes looked into his imploringly. "I don't believe you, Luis. I don't believe that Sheridan is like the rest of her family. I believe she is a good person. A person that needs our help. And if you're not going to help her.you're not half the man I thought you were."
"Theresa," Luis said, stepping forward.
Theresa held up a distancing hand and glanced outside at Whitney's compact little car just pulling into the parking lot. "That's Whitney. We should be back from lunch in an hour."
"Take the rest of the day off. Things aren't real busy around here anyway," Luis muttered, unconsciously tapping the crumpled picture in his right hand against his thigh.
Theresa closed the distance between them in three bouncy steps, smiling up at him apologetically as she slipped one arm around his waist and reached down to still the distracting movement of his other hand.
Luis buried his nose in her soft dark hair and hugged her close to him, glad to be reprieved in action if not words. He let her remove the picture from his hands, feeling the nagging sensation of guilt return as her fingers smoothed the photo's crumpled edges, and he found himself staring again at the innocent face of a child.
"Look at that adorable face, Luis, and tell me you can really say no," Theresa challenged, a knowing twinkle in her brown eyes as she skillfully manipulated his emotions. "He's depending on you, and he's half-Crane. Kind of shoots your 'ALL CRANES ARE EVIL' theory out of the water, doesn't it? Papa says there's always a diamond in the rough. Sheridan might be that diamond," she said, standing on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "Just think it over, okay Luis?"
Luis nodded his head quickly, reminding her as she backed out of the door, "Make Whitney drive slow through the really icy spots."
Theresa giggled and rolled her dark eyes at him. "I will. But you have to promise."
"I promise," Luis waved her outside with a smile. "You're late. Now go."
"Bye, Luis."
Luis stood by the tiny window, watching Whitney's car pull out of the lot, Theresa blowing silly kisses at him out the rolled-down window the entire time while Whitney gently admonished her.
The snow drifted from the skies, carpeting the world outside in a white sheen.
Luis's attention gravitated to the picture again, and the sparkling dark eyes gazing up at him. He closed his eyes against the image, but he could still feel those eyes looking up at him almost expectantly, stirring some nameless emotion within his heart that made no sense to him whatsoever.
The scent of Sheridan's perfume lingered in the air, and the hauntingly vulnerable blue eyes from the depths of his memory beseeched him.
The small office filled with his soft groans, and the glass mirrored his conflicted visage back to him, presenting him with a truth that was difficult to face. His half-hearted denials didn't change what he knew inexplicably in his heart.that Theresa was right.
He wasn't even half the man he'd thought himself to be,
Would he let his shallowly buried hard feelings of the past get in the way of doing what was right?
He grabbed her cape off the hook on his way out the door, tucking her file underneath his arm.
Destination still uncertain.